by J. S. Malcom
“I still don’t understand,” Autumn says. “Master what?”
I brace myself, hoping I misunderstood. Isabel’s next words tell me that I understood perfectly.
“It’s a form of speculomancy,” she says. “The darkest form, I suspect.”
I look at Autumn and speak softly. “It’s veil witch magic.”
Autumn’s eyes grow wide at the implications. She brings her gaze back to Isabel’s. “You can’t think one of us did this.”
Isabel shakes her head, as if to dispel the thoughts she just had. “You’re right,” she says. “I don’t. Which can only mean one thing.”
So many times I’ve held back from admitting my actions. Mostly, to protect my sister, but partly because I know how it will make me look. Foolish, impetuous and overconfident of my powers. This time, I can’t hold back. “I saw someone the other night when I was coming home. I mean, I saw something. Magic. I saw the flash of someone using it in a park. I got off the bus to find out what was going on.”
Everyone stares at me for a long silent moment.
“Let me get this straight,” Autumn says. “You were riding the bus home at night. You saw someone using magic. And you went into a park alone to find out who it was.”
I don’t flinch, even though I’m sure we’ll be revisiting the topic later. “I had to see who it was.”
“Why?”
I hesitate, and then say, “Because of the type of magic involved. It wasn’t just magical flares. I saw orbs. The kind used by veil witches.”
Autumn continues to stare at me. “That isn’t possible.”
I clench my jaw and point at the mirror. “Apparently, it is possible. What we need to know is who it was and why the hell she did this.”
Autumn shoots me her big sister glare once more before turning back to Isabel. “What is speculomancy, exactly? And why is it thought to be veil witch magic?”
Isabel drops herself onto the sofa. She sighs, keeping her hand on the mirror. “Please, sit.”
She looks tired, I realize. Very tired, her face strained with a worry that was plaguing her before we arrived. Now, things have gotten worse. Much worse. I sit on the love seat and Autumn takes the spot next to me. Phoenix takes one of the chairs.
Isabel looks back and forth between us. “Speculomancy, as the word implies, is magic performed using reflective objects such as glass or mirrors. In its simplest form, it’s a way of looking into different realms. Most commonly, the future or the distant past. We don’t often think of it that way, but time itself is another dimension.”
I think of that conversation I had with Maggie at Grimoire. The timing of what’s happening is just so strange, and it can’t be just a coincidence. It’s almost like someone heard us and now they’re playing a game at our expense. Is that possible?
Autumn perches forward. “What else can it be used for?”
“Creating passageways,” Isabel says. “Both within this realm, or between this realm and others.”
“Opening portals,” I say.
Isabel nods. “Yes, opening portals. And the Aucepis Monitum is used for taking someone through one of those portals. It’s something only a veil witch would be able to do.”
“And that image of Bethany,” I say. “What does it mean?”
“That part is like a calling card,” Isabel says. “A type of threat specific to this particular spell.” She pulls back the blanket covering her daughter’s tortured image. “I can’t say where my daughter is, but I can say this—for now, she’s alive. But when that image fades, she won’t be anymore.”
CHAPTER 16
I manage to sleep for a few hours before my eyes open to the moonlit bedroom. It’s the same room I’ve slept in many times at the Aimes’s farm, while down the hall Autumn sleeps in the room that has come to be hers. They’re so much like family to us, these people—Isabel, Bethany and, yes, Phoenix. To wake up in this bed again, under this roof, feels in many ways like I’ve found my way back home.
By the time we finished talking, it had grown late. We tried to leave again, but Isabel wouldn’t have it. “I’m worried enough about Bethany,” she said. “I don’t need to be worried about you two driving back this late at night.”
What could we do but stay?
Maybe it’s the full moon, or just all the thoughts swirling through my head, but I doubt I’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. I reach for my phone on the bedside table, out of habit as much as anything, but it’s not there. I must have left it in my jacket downstairs. Sure, there are books in the room, so I guess I could occupy my mind that way. But like everyone else I’m an addict now. Without my phone, I feel incomplete. Besides, if I’m going to be up for a while, I might as well get something to drink.
I get out of bed and creep past closed doors on my way down to the kitchen. I’m halfway through the living room when I realize I’m not alone. I stop walking and look to where Phoenix sits on the sofa, his golden hair catching glints of moonlight. His eyes are closed but he’s not sleeping, I can tell. He breathes deeply and evenly. My magic tingles as I feel the magic coming off of him.
I’m about to continue padding toward the kitchen when Phoenix opens his eyes. His gaze meets mine. Only then do I remember that I’m wearing just my t-shirt and panties. He’s seen me this way many times before, but I still pull at the hem of my shirt.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I was just—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Is everything okay?”
“Just couldn’t sleep.”
He reaches for a quilt and holds it out to me. “Here, you look chilly.”
Damn, he noticed. Thanks, moonlight. I step toward him, take the quilt, and wrap it around my shoulders. “So, what are you doing out here in the dark? Just being creepy?”
Phoenix smiles. I’ve tried to forget how much I’ve missed that smile. “Pretty much, yeah,” he says. “I was visiting my guides.”
By which he means practicing necromancy, crossing over to where he can speak with the dead. Not those that remain clinging to this realm, as I do, but those who’ve moved on. The key difference between a necromancer and a veil witch.
“Yep, that’s creepy.”
“Says the woman who regularly dukes it out with ghosts,” Phoenix says. “Autumn told us you took on some poltergeists recently. Kids, she said. You showed them the way home.”
“I didn’t know she told you.”
Phoenix shrugs. “She’s proud of you.”
It’s such a nice thing to say, and to know. So often, I’m not sure how Autumn feels about me. I can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. It’s not like I don’t know it, but it doesn’t seem to stop me.
“Want to sit for a minute?”
Suddenly, I do. I want to sit beside him. I wrap the blanket a little tighter and take the offered seat, being careful that our hips aren’t touching.
“Should I ask?” Honestly, I’m a little afraid to, although Phoenix doesn’t seem upset in any way.
“I know what my mother said about that spell,” Phoenix says, “but I wanted to be sure. Apparently, she’s right, thank God. My guides confirmed that Bethany hasn’t passed to their side. They said that, at least for now, she remains in the physical plane.”
“For now,” the words just come out before I can stop them. Images of that place I saw in my dream flash through my mind. A hellish realm glowing fiery red. People trapped in anguish. Vampires gathering to feed. Why those images come to me, I’m not sure, but I tell myself it’s just my imagination getting the better of me.
Without thinking, I reach for Phoenix’s hand. He wraps his around mine, warm and strong. Then I realize what I’m doing. Just as quickly, I withdraw my hand again. I tell myself to toughen up, even as I realize that might be my deepest flaw. Remaining guarded. Never fully opening up. Telling myself not to feel anything.
I speak softly, but firmly. “We’ll get her back.”
Phoenix nods. “You mean you’ll get her back.”
/> He says it kindly, without resentment or implication, but I realize he’s right. It truly is what I meant. Which shines a light on another one of my possible defects, that I need to learn how to trust others. Accept that sometimes I might need help.
Still, I don’t deny how I meant it. “I’ll try everything I possibly can.”
“I know you will,” Phoenix says. “It’s just how you are.” A few moments pass before he adds, “You went somewhere, didn’t you? I mean, someplace you haven’t gone before.”
Autumn didn’t tell him about Faerie. I feel sure about that. I don't have to tell him either. Still, I say, “Yes.”
“I thought so. You seem different somehow.”
Again, he’s right. I really have changed in the time that has passed. It feels like I’ve lived three lifetimes since we last saw each other. “I’ve just… I’ve been through a few things.”
I can imagine telling him sometime. How much, I’m not entirely sure. I guess it just depends on the circumstances. But right now, I want it to feel like it did before. Just him and me together, comforted by each other’s presence. I’m not sure if we can ever have that again, but I still want it.
Phoenix doesn’t pry for more. Instead, he lets a few moments pass as we sit beside each other in silence. Then he says, “When I was a kid, people weren’t ready to accept that I was a necromancer. Witches are open-minded, of course, but necromancy has always been right on the line. Too many dark witches have been necromancers for there not to be negative connotations. I mean, I get that. But I didn’t then. I was twelve, pushing toward thirteen, and you know how that goes.”
“Not really,” I say, nudging him in the ribs. And there I was giving Autumn a hard time earlier for doing the same thing.
Phoenix chuckles, that soft laugh reminding me how well he knows me. “Sorry, I guess you don’t.”
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. From what I hear, those seem like great years not to have a body.”
Phoenix laughs again. “Yeah, those might be worth skipping. It’s just a time when you already feel confused and alone. I mean, I know that’s natural, but at the time that still doesn’t make any difference.”
“So, people weren’t that psyched for you to be a necromancer,” I say. “Do you mean your family?”
“I know that must seem weird, but, yeah,” Phoenix says. “My mother is a strong and experienced witch, but it just isn’t one of those things you want for your kid.”
“I can see that,” I say. “All that talking to the dead, and all.”
“Not to mention the million possible magical pitfalls that line the path to trying. It’s a place where you have to tread carefully. Anyway, it wasn’t like I could deny what I was. So, for a while, I acted like it might have been a passing phase. I stopped talking about it. But I still went places that opened only to me, and had experiences that changed who I was. I didn’t want my mother to worry, so I didn’t say anything. But what happened, as a result, was that certain walls went up. Maybe they had to be there for me to be what I am, but they never came down again. Not completely. I guess what I’m saying is that some things have to remain ours, and ours alone. That’s just how it works.”
I sigh and settle into the sofa as I relax a little more. And, yes, find myself feeling comforted. Because I understand what Phoenix is saying—that I can tell him what I want to, when the time seems right. In the meantime, it’s okay to be just as we are right now.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about that blonde chick. I can’t help it, I still do. But this definitely doesn’t feel like the time to go there.
“What do you think it means? That spell. Your mother said it’s like some sort of calling card. Why would someone do something like that?”
Phoenix glances over at me, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ve been thinking about that, and I came up with two reasons. The first involves the nature of speculomancy itself. The thing is, it’s arcane magic. According to our history, it’s barely needed by those who can actually use it. Sure, it’s a way of travelling between realms, but that’s what you guys can do naturally.”
“So, what do you think?”
Phoenix shakes his head. “Not sure. But maybe this witch is just learning the ropes. Maybe she’s young, or just sort of stumbled onto what she can do. Provided it’s a woman, by the way. We don’t know that.”
He’s right, of course. I’ve been assuming that if another veil witch exists out there, she’s female. I suppose that’s because Autumn and I are the only veil witches around these days. But would I assume the same of a necromancer? Obviously not, so I’ll have to work on assuming less. In general, that’s the safer bet anyway.
“What’s the other reason?”
“To taunt,” Phoenix says. “To demonstrate power in an obvious way, one that won’t fail to be noticed. And to leave a message.”
Our eyes meet again. “Like some sort of publicity stunt?”
“A sick one, but I actually think it might be. Like someone is playing a game. Trying to get your attention.”
Which brings me back to what I was wondering about before, except for one thing. “But whoever it is targeted your family.”
“I know,” Phoenix says. “That occurred to me too. But we’re not veil witches. We can’t travel between realms.”
A chill ripples through me and I draw the blanket tighter. “Meaning you can’t take the bait.”
“Right. If it’s a lure, we can’t bite. This game feels designed for veil witches.”
“Who the hell would do something like that?”
Neither of us know, of course, but I’m just trying to think. And the weird thing is, the only answer I can come up with is Vintain. Who else would be sick enough to hold that kind of grudge? But that answer makes no sense. Vintain has been stripped of power. He’s been imprisoned in Faerie. So, it has to be the other veil witch.
“But why Bethany?” I say. “I mean, she’s someone both Autumn and I care about. But that alone can’t be it.”
“I agree,” Phoenix says. “But she’s also a witch. That has to factor in somehow. From there, we just don’t know.”
Phoenix is right. We just don’t know. And I’m not sure how much it really matters right now.
“How do we help her?” I say.
Phoenix sighs. “I’m not sure. This is dark magic. Not the kind we’re used to dealing with. I suspect we’re going to need help.”
“From who?”
Phoenix shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I guess from someone used to dealing with magical crimes. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? This feels like the first stage of an attack. Which can only mean one thing. There’s definitely more to come.”
~~~
The next morning, I call a number I never imagined using. When Beatrice gave it to me that day at Grimoire, I wasn’t sure what to think. Or how to feel. For weeks, I’d imagined her as someone who didn’t actually exist. That she’d been part of some magical hallucination Grayson had cooked up to suck me in. After all, in many ways Grayson himself was a magical hallucination—a changeling puppet with strings being pulled from another realm.
I’m about to cancel the call when Beatrice answers. “Hello?”
Right, she gave me her number. I didn’t give her mine. I can still hang up and she’ll never know it was me.
I pause another moment, and then say, “Beatrice, it’s Cassie.”
“Cassie, how are you?” As always, her tone is warm and friendly. Even when she came to see me at Grimoire, she seemed casual, strangely unconcerned with how we came to know each other. Then again, she said that when the time came I could call and she’d explain everything. I just didn’t imagine the time coming.
“I’m fine,” I say, still not sure where to start.
“I’m glad to hear it. Although, I wondered if I might hear from you.”
I hesitate, but of course I have to know. “Why?”
“There’s been rather a lot going on lately,�
� Beatrice says. “I couldn’t help but wonder if some of it might find its way to you.”
I have no idea how to take that. Should I be suspicious? Probably. Still, I ask, “What made you think that?”
“Our reports tell us that someone has been opening gaps between this realm and another. And that certain types of entities have been coming through. As a veil witch, I doubted it would escape your attention.”
I don’t mention that it appears to have been deliberately brought to my attention. “Yes, I’ve noticed,” I say. “You said before to call you if I ever wanted to talk.”
“Of course,” Beatrice says. “Do you still have the talisman I gave you?”
By which she means the stone she pressed into my hand when we met at Grimoire. Like the magical keys Grayson used when we were teleporting, this was another smooth, polished stone, although this time black with a silvery streak running through its center. She gave it to me at the end of our meeting, just as she was getting ready to leave. I never did find out what it was for. In fact, I almost threw it out, but decided against depositing a magical object into my trash.
“I still have it,” I say. Where the hell did I put that thing?
“Good,” Beatrice says. “How does one o’clock tomorrow sound? Just go to where we first met and call me again when you arrive.”
CHAPTER 17
Rain drizzles down my windshield as I pull into the deserted lot I’ve now visited several times before. The first two times, the Shadow Order headquarters appeared when Grayson supposedly lowered the wards obscuring it from view. The third time, I foolishly decided to investigate the abandoned warehouse facing me now. That little adventure resulted in me running for my life and escaping through a second floor window. I’m still not sure who was chasing me, although I’ve since assumed it was Aaron, the now dead half-blood fae who tried to murder me.
I kill the engine and mutter, “Seriously? Couldn’t we just meet at Starbucks or something?”
All the same, I pull out my phone and dial.
“I’m in the lot,” I tell Beatrice.