Blood Prophecy: Kallen's Tale

by Bonnie Lamer

  I cannot help a chuckle. The Witch, on the other hand, is not as amused. “Of all the impertinence! Do you know who you’re talking to, young man?” I laugh harder. He is so full of himself. It will be entertaining to watch him fall.

  “Sveargith, I believe you’ve lost all hope of having anyone here garner any respect for you,” the Angel tells him.

  The other end of the line is quiet for a moment. Finally, his now desperate sounding voice can be heard again. “Athear, please, you have to understand. You know why this has to be done.”

  Apparently, she has no idea. She says to the voice activated phone, “Hang up.” The Wicked Witch is gone. Okay, I read that line as I was flipping through books in the classroom.

  Chapter 10

  The next hour is uneventful. Breakfast is eaten. A much better breakfast than frozen discs, I might add. Then, her mother and grandmother do their best to get Xandra interested in the magical paraphernalia they worked on all night. It is not working.

  “Xandra, what on earth is wrong with you? You aren’t listening to a thing we’re saying.” Not surprising. I was bored an hour ago.

  Xandra goes on the defensive. “I am too. You just said that’s a Witch’s ladder like the bracelet you gave me before. If you untie the knots, you let loose the magic.”

  “That was five amulets ago,” her mother says. “This one prevents love spells.”

  Distaste rushes onto Xandra’s face. “Love spells? Why would we need that?”

  The Angel answers. “Because Maeva is not above using something so underhanded. Not to mention Midar.”

  Distaste has turned to disgust. “One of them might try to make me fall in love with them? I think I can fight that off without an amulet.”

  That is my cue to join the conversation. I wink at her and say, “Just think about me if you get hit with one of those. No one else will seem attractive to you.” I love the blush that follows the smile on her face. For a minute, our eyes lock and everything else falls away. I believe we would both be difficult to be controlled with a love spell.

  Finally, she says, “What if I’m not the target of the love spell, you are?”

  That is easy. “Can’t happen. A Witch can’t make a Fairy fall in love with her with magic.”

  Doubt clouds her eyes. She turns to her grandmother, “Is that true?”

  “In a way. You need to have some aspect of the person who is the target of the spell. A piece of hair, something. Since none of these Witches has ever met Kallen, they wouldn’t have anything to draw on. And it is very difficult to work a love spell on a Fairy.” I give Xandra a simpering grin and she sticks her tongue out at me, making me laugh.

  Turning her attention back to her grandmother, she says, “But I’ve never met them, either. How could they do a spell on me?”

  She sighs. “Because your grandfather may have retrieved something while he was here. It only takes one hair to work a love spell, not to mention many other spells. He could have taken some from a hairbrush, or even gotten some on his clothes while he was in the house with you.”

  Poor Xandra. She is constantly being amazed at her family’s repugnant behavior. “He’s that sneaky? I thought he originally came here to help?”

  Her mother is embarrassed as the truth sinks into her brain. She knows her father stole some sort of personal effect. Still, she says, “I’m not sure. My father is a much different man than I remember. He may have had ulterior motives.” Or, he is a horrible Witch who does not deserve to walk this realm freely.

  Xandra shakes her head. “And they’re worried about me? They’re the ones who are scary.” I believe she is about to say something else, when she goes completely still. Not again. I glare at the Angel who will not meet my eyes.

  At least this time, we are all reasonably sure that she is going to snap out of it. It does take a few extra minutes, though. And each of those minutes I spend plotting the demise of everyone responsible. I have never been homicidal before. I could not even fathom the emotion. Now, I am pretty comfortable with the idea. Throw in some torture and it will be a party.

  A doll has suddenly appeared in Xandra’s hands. An ugly little wax figure that is supposed to be a crude representation of her, I assume. I hate cowardly Witches.

  “Where on earth did you get that?” her mother asks.

  “From Grandpa. It’s a little present from Annika. I don’t think it looks anything like me.”

  Now, that is just begging to be teased. “It is much prettier than you are,” I say and she throws the doll at me. Laughing, I catch it. It truly is an ugly little thing.

  Turning back to her mother, Xandra says, “He stole a picture of me while he was here. Grandma was right; he is a sneaky old man.” And, according to her, he is right outside.

  I am pretty sure her father has a leg up on me as far as homicidal thoughts. “He’s here? Now?”

  Xandra nods. “Yup, he’s down the road a little bit. I’m thinking he can sense the protection spell. He’s probably trying to figure out how to get around it.”

  I look up from the doll. “You talked to him?” I am back in the homicidal race again.

  “Yeah. He tried to bend my will to him using that thing.”

  King of the Witches resorting to cowardly magic. What a fine leader he must be. Still, Xandra deserves credit for dealing with him at all. “Obviously, with no success.”

  She grins. “Do I get a gold star?”

  Oh, I would like to do more than give her a gold star. “Perhaps,” I say as vivid images flash in my mind. My thoughts must show on my face, because Xandra is blushing furiously.

  The next few minutes are spent trying to convince her father that he cannot confront the Witch, regardless of how badly he wants to. Magical or not, if he was corporeal, I believe he would find a way to hurt his ill-fated father-in-law. I admire that.

  The ringing of the phone interrupts the argument between Xandra’s parents. Her father answers. “What do you want, Sveargith?”

  A collective sigh sounds around the room when a confused female voice comes over the line. It is Xandra’s aunt checking in. I do not pay much attention to the conversation until I hear her aunt say, “Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice! How did things go with that awful young man?”

  Me? Awful? Nah, she cannot be speaking of me. Though, the snickers coming from Xandra’s parents as they look between us have me concerned. I raise my brows in Xandra’s direction. I am curious how she is going to respond.

  “Um, turns out he wasn’t so bad,” she says. I did not know my brows could go this high. Belatedly, she adds, “Actually, I kind of like him.” It would be more believable if she was not stuttering.

  “You do? Well, I guess that’s not too surprising. He was a handsome young man.” I find myself smiling once again.

  “Uh, Aunt Barb, he’s right here.”

  “Oh, Xandra! Why didn’t you tell me that?” I chuckle at her embarrassment.

  “Sorry, Aunt Barb. Things are a little crazy around here with Grandpa wanting to kill me and all.” That comment leads into Xandra and her parents explaining the situation to her. It is decided that she is to stay put down the mountain with Xandra’s little brother. After ringing off, the feel of the room is much more somber.

  Xandra is the first to break the uncomfortable silence. “Grandma, is it the spell or me that’s making it so their magic doesn’t work on me?”

  I snort. Like she knows. She does pretend to ponder the question for a moment, though. “Honestly, I don’t know. I would suspect that the protection spell is doing most of that, but you are a powerful being. You may have some natural defenses against their magic.”

  The phone rings again. Reluctantly, her father answers. We all know who it must be this time. “Athear, are you there?”

  The Angel just glares at the phone, so Xandra responds. “She’s here but she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “I demand she come to phone so I can be sure you haven’t harmed her.”
What a crazy old guy. What does he think he is going to be able to do all by himself?

  Xandra’s father agrees. “You aren’t in a position to demand anything.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sveargith, I’m right here,” the Angel huffs.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Better than I’ve been in eighteen years.” Okay, that earns her a little chuckle.

  And then the theater performance is laid on even thicker. “I’ve tried everything in my power to make you happy these last years, even when I finally admitted staying out of your life was really what you wanted. But I still care about you and I’m worried for your safety.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of company to keep you from worrying too much about caring for me.” Awkward. I suddenly want to be anywhere but here listening to this.

  “I have been faithful to you for forty years.”

  Okay, I have heard enough to churn my stomach. “Perhaps this is a conversation best had in private.”

  The Angel turns beet red. “He’s right. This is not the time or place for this conversation. We’ve had it a thousand times already. Unless you are willing to come to a peaceful understanding, there is nothing left to say.”

  “Please remember, Athear. You forced my hand.” The Witch utters a curse and then hangs up.

  “Um, what do you think he meant by that?” Xandra asks. I would like to know the same thing.

  The Angel shakes her head wearily. “I don’t know. Your grandfather is a skilled Witch; it would be difficult to guess what he will try.”

  “Is he skilled enough to get through the protection circles?”

  Suddenly, Xandra is ripped from her chair and hurled backwards. I have never moved so quickly in my life as I jump down from the counter and try to keep her from smashing into the wall. But, I am too late. She hits the wall with a sickening smack. I drop to my knees next to her just as blood bubbles over her bottom lip. Her eyes are glazed over and she is going into shock.

  “Xandra, what happened?” She is coughing up more blood and she is trying to double over, holding her stomach tightly.

  “I don’t know,” she gasps and the sight of even more blood spilling from her mouth hits my heart like an ice cold dagger. She is dying. She is dying and I do not even know what is killing her. Her skin is so pale, she now resembles her parents. Her beautiful green eyes, her Fairy eyes, have lost their luster, as her life runs out before me.

  The Angel is on her knees next to me now. She has the same clay that Xandra used to mark trees earlier. She draws some out and rubs it on Xandra’s forehead. “Xandra,” she says, and the panic in her voice mirrors mine. “You have to repeat after me – ‘I am your chalice, you are my shield, Divine power only you wield, please take from me the pain I feel, with Divine mercy my fate you seal.’”

  The prayer of the Angels. Spoken through the blood and the tears, Xandra forces each painful word out, each bringing with it more blood. Until the very last. That brings with it a scream so deafening and a light so blinding, the Angel and I must cover our ears and close our eyes.

  When I sense the light is gone, I open my eyes to find Xandra sitting still against the wall. For a moment, I do not know if she is dead or alive, until a small smile touches her lips. I want to grab her in my arms and hold her tight, but I have no idea if she is still in pain. Instead, I turn on the Angel. “What just happened to her? What have you done?”

  The Angel is green. And frightened. I do not know how much of that fear is from what happened to Xandra and how much is from the knowledge that I am seconds away from causing her great physical harm.

  She stammers as she says, “I have never seen a bond like this before. She is physically connected to the protection circle.”

  “What does that mean?” I growl.

  Xandra’s mother yanks my attention away from the Angel. “I think it means she was just hit by a car.”

  Xandra’s father is as confused as I am. “Julienne, what are you talking about?”

  “My father drove his car into the protection circle. If Xandra is physically attached to the spell, then it’s as if she was hit by his car.” I have no words to respond to that. I have seen evil in my life, evil I thought was unthinkable even in the lowest life forms, but this is beyond any of that.

  The Angel gasps. “No,” she whispers in denial. “He wouldn’t.”

  Xandra’s father has words. Loud, angry words that are directed at the Angel. “Was that your plan, Athear? Connect my daughter to this spell so your husband could kill her easier?”

  She shakes her head, still in shock. Well, she had better get over that shock pretty damn quickly. “I swear to you, this is a mistake. I didn’t know that she’d become so ensconced in the spell. This is unprecedented.”

  “How do we fix this?” I snarl and I did not realize my hand had followed my words and was about to throttle her until Xandra pulls it back.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  Xandra’s father dives in front of her and she has to lean back to prevent his cold essence from permeating her skin. “You’re a liar! Fix this, or so help me, I will spend the rest of my time on this plane making your life as miserable as you’re making my daughter’s.”

  Xandra stirs and pushes herself upwards, sliding her back against the cracked wall. “Dad, I think she’s telling the truth.” I grab her elbow to keep her from falling over. She may have recovered from her injuries, but she is still weak.

  “Xandra, she had to have known,” I start to say, incredulous that she is defending the one who almost got her killed.

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “How do you know that?” her father demands.

  She shrugs slightly. “I just know, Dad. She’s telling the truth.”

  For the second time in five minutes, I am speechless. Something else I can count on my fingers how many times this has happened to me. And each one has been in Xandra’s presence.

  Ignoring her father and me, she turns to her grandmother. “Grandpa must know that I’m connected to the spell. How would he have figured that out? Have you told him about this magic?”

  “No. I’ve never said a word to him.” That I believe. It is forbidden for Fallen Angels to willingly speak of their heritage and of Angel magic. Xandra was an exception because of her Angel blood.

  Under her breath, Xandra mumbles, “It’s the light rope.”

  My brows scrunch up in confusion. “Light rope? What do you mean?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. I would be annoyed, but I still have not gotten past the almost dying thing, so she can do pretty much whatever she wants to at the moment. “Remember when I got pulled to the airport – I said there was a rope of light coming from my belly button. It was there when I met up with Grandpa, too. He must have figured it out.”

  Her father again supplies words for me. “Son of a…”

  “Jim,” his wife admonishes. Is this really the time to be concerned about words?

  He clears his throat and tries again. “So, the bastard knows he can hurt Xandra physically. How do we stop him from doing that?”

  The Witch has a psychotic gleam in her eye that I can appreciate. She probably got that from her father, but I am okay with that since she is using it appropriately. “Mother and I will take care of it. Kallen, why don’t you help Xandra to her room? She’s been through a lot this morning, and she could probably use a little rest. I’m going to go introduce my father to some of the security precautions I’ve spread around the house and mountain over the years.” If I did not hate him so much, I might actually feel sorry for the man. Instead, I am sorry I am going to miss the show. But, there is no way I am going to leave Xandra’s side for any reason at the moment. Not even for revenge. I guess love truly is a powerful thing. Before coming here, there is not a chance in hell I would have missed the fight.

  “Your mother is right, you should lie down,” her father says. “I’m going to go with your mother.”

  “That may not be wise,�
�� I warn.

  “Probably not, but I’m not going to let Julienne face that man alone.”

  Love does make us do stupid things. “Neither would I.”

  Xandra stands up straighter, trying to look refreshed. “Shouldn’t I go out there as well?”

  Over my dead body. “No, until we figure out how to separate you physically from the spell, we need to keep you better protected.” I certainly did not increase her love for me with that statement. I know she is angry and frustrated, but I am going to make sure she is safe.

  With a sour look, she says, “Fine, I’ll be in the bathroom brushing my teeth.” Understandable. The taste of blood is never pleasant. I offer my hand when she pushes away from the wall, but she shakes her head and walks around me.

  Okay, I guess she is not in the mood for being coddled. I get that. But I am determined that she know I am behaving like this out of love, not some weird chauvinistic thing where I think she is too weak to fight. When she closes the bathroom door behind her, I first check on her mother and grandmother, who seem to be holding their own, and then I go into her room to wait for her.

  As soon as I hear the bathroom door open, I rise from the bed. When she enters the room, I gently grasp her shoulders and back her up against the wall, my forehead on hers. “Do not ever scare me like that again.” My voice is rich with emotion.

  She smiles and puts a hand on my cheek. “I’ll do my best.”

  I whisper, “I love you,” as I capture her lips with mine in a kiss that says more than any words ever will. I kiss her until I have taken her breath away, then I let our lips part. My forehead against hers again, I say, “I have never said that to anyone before, you know.”

  Her smile widens. “I love you, too. And I’ve never said that to anyone before, either.”

  She said the words. She loves me, too. In a vain attempt to conceal just how happy that makes me, I stand up straight and chuckle. With my hands on her cheeks, I stroke her silky smooth skin with my thumbs. “In all fairness, you have been caged in this lonely house in the mountains. You have not had much opportunity to spend time in the company of males your own age. Perhaps I should not feel as special as that statement would imply.”