Prophecy of Three: Book One of The Starseed Trilogy

by Ashley McLeo

  “I have something I think will work,” she said confidently.

  “Good. Make sure you really feel the words. I’ve got to get some food in me before the blood circle, helps ground me after traveling. I’ll meet you by the lake,” Aoife said, heading toward the cabin.

  “Do you think she’s alright?” Lily said watching her aunt’s unnaturally slow gait.

  “I’ve read traveling takes a lot out of you, but Aoife wouldn’t have gone farther than she could handle—not knowing what we’re about to attempt,” Sara said.

  They took the scenic route to the lakeside, bumbling around the orchard and through the field, each lost in their own thoughts. It seemed their delay tactic had worked. A smaller crowd than anticipated was gathered at the lakeside. They stood in a tight circle, huddled together for warmth and, Lily was sure, gossip. Brigit, Mary, Gwenn, and Fiona were standing off to the side in their own small group.

  “Are you joining us, Fiona?” Lily asked, rubbing her hands together.

  Fiona shook her head. “Tonight it’s you three, your ma, and aunties, all women of the same line. The closer the bonds, the better.”

  Brigit nodded. “We considered it. Blood is blood after all, but Aoife pointed out that Fiona may well set the elements off balance. We’re already a bit risky with you, myself, and Gwenn in the circle. Too many earth witches and no one with a strong proclivity for air.”

  “Fiona’s trying her best to keep out of the gossip,” Mary added, jerking her head toward the group of onlookers. “They’ve been placing bets all night on how it’s going to turn out.”

  “Aye, I’m one of the few that bet on you girls, so make sure it happens. I don’t have a hundred euro to spare at the mo’,” Fiona said.

  “And if you did you’d pay me back that fifty you owe me, right?” Gwenn asked, eyebrows raised.

  Fiona was spared the pressure of a response when Aoife appeared at her back, a healthy glow returned to her freckle-strewn face.

  “Are we ready then? Let’s get into our positions.”

  A hush fell over the night as the other witches and wizards watched them make their way to the lake’s edge.

  “Evelyn, stand right here. Make sure you face the water. We want you to draw as much power as you can from your strongest element,” Brigit instructed. She guided Lily into position nearest the forest and Sara on the other side of Evelyn, closest to where a bonfire still raged. Brigit and her sisters took up positions at the four cardinal points, sealing the circle.

  Lily looked up at the stars and shivered. The moon, reborn from a new cycle that very night, shone as a thin crescent in the dark sky. She cast her light down to all below and, it seemed, upon their circle in particular.

  “Right, then. We’re ready,” Brigit said, raising a hand in the air. Whispers fell as the night began to vibrate with anticipation. She nodded to Evelyn.

  Lily’s nerves were soothed by the sight of Evelyn. Tall and regal in the center of the circle, Evelyn’s blonde hair beautified everyone around her as it reflected the moon’s light on their faces. A siren, a woman able to command the attention and respect of kings, popes, and soldiers with steel and surety. For the first time, Lily was grateful it was Evelyn and not her drawing the crowd’s attention.

  “We’ve come here, brothers and sisters of the craft, stewards of ancient power, to seek the knowledge of one long passed,” Evelyn said, opening the circle with the ceremonial words Brigit taught her.

  Evelyn raised her arms and a puff of wind skipped over the glassy lake, carving small waves on its surface as it trickled their way.

  This is why she wanted to practice with air, Lily thought, impressed by Evelyn’s foresight. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves engulfed them as a second gust of wind rushed from the woods. Heat tickled Lily’s skin as smoke from the bonfire flew forth to mingle with its sisters. The airstreams converged to form a small wind tunnel above Evelyn, tossing her hair skyward and amplifying her words.

  * * *

  “We seek more than kindness,

  We need more than love,

  We long for your answers,

  The wisdom of above,

  Come dine with your blood,

  This dark Samhain night,

  Pass through the veil,

  Share with us your light.”

  * * *

  Evelyn flung her arms above her head. The tunnel of wind followed, growing smaller and smaller until it blended into the dark clouds above.

  The hairs on the back of Lily’s neck stood at attention as she searched for a sign, a ghost to materialize out of thin air. But there was nothing. She frowned, the witch’s blood rampaging through her veins was insisting that something should be happening. Whispers and one soft chuckle came from the onlookers. Lily’s face burned. Why hadn’t it worked? Hearing Evelyn’s words, feeling the change in the air—the night felt ripe, ready to be taken by magic, exactly as Lily imagined calling a ghost across the veil would feel. The thought landed that whatever feeling of frustration she was experiencing, Evelyn would be feeling it a hundred times over. I should be comforting her, Lily thought pulling her eyes from the ground. What the hell?

  Evelyn caught Lily’s eye and smiled knowingly before bringing her hands up to cup her red lips. “Resipisico,” Evelyn breathed. The word traveled from the center of the circle like a whisper on the wind.

  A tornado, larger and more ferocious than its predecessor, slammed down from the sky cutting them off from all onlookers.

  Lily jumped as a large rock hurled past, missing her arm by inches.

  “Cast a shield!” Brigit instructed, her voice cracking as the tornado tightened around them.

  “Arma,” Lily yelled above the howling wind.

  Evelyn reached out to grasp her hand and Lily took it instinctively. A jolt of power surged through her before evaporating. She’s draining me, Lily realized, and suddenly Brigit grasped Lily’s other hand. A jolt of power ran through Lily and she became an energy conductor, taking and passing magic through her body. She squeezed Evelyn’s hand tighter to donate all the power she could. The sound of the wind grew distant as finally all seven shields knitted together to form a dome high above them. The moment the shield was whole Evelyn raised her face to the sky and began to chant once more, her words lilting and swaying in the wind’s echo.

  * * *

  “I call on water,

  Giver of life,

  Restore a soul departed,

  To Earth this Samhain night,

  I offer her tribute,

  Confidence and trust,

  Drink the blood of her blood,

  Shed on Earth this night.”

  * * *

  Lily let out a sigh of exhaustion as her hand dropped to her side and Evelyn made for her waistband. Silver glinted in the moonlight and Lily winced as Evelyn ran a dagger across her palm. A thin scarlet line beaded up from the soft flesh there and Evelyn held her hand aloft, squeezing it open and shut.

  “Resipisico,” Brigit whispered, dropping Lily’s other hand and holding her palms to the sky as Evelyn’s dark red blood fell to the earth.

  The motion and word was echoed by Aoife, Mary, Gwenn, Sara and, finally, Lily. The moment the enchantment was sealed a faint fog began gathering, swirling, gaining density and shape above Evelyn’s small pool of blood.

  From the fog an opaque, grayish head materialized, followed by a torso, arms, and legs. Lily blinked. An old woman was there, not quite flesh and blood, but very much resembling the living, sitting cross-legged in the grass in front of Evelyn. She unfurled herself with the speed and grace of a much younger body as she stood to face her caller.

  “Happy Samhain, daughter. You called?” the woman asked. She was dressed in a long linen dress and a cap that resembled a bandana. The tattered dress fell loose off her skeletal frame. Her hair, the crowning glory of her otherwise haggard appearance, hung down to her buttocks in thick braids.

  “Thank you for coming, grandmother. Would you like
to stay for dinner?” Evelyn said, a wide smile on her bowed face.

  “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten,” the ghost said, gesturing down to the ground where Evelyn’s blood stained the dirt. “Your tribute paid the way for old Florence Newton to spend another night on earth. I was skeptical about crossing the veil, but I must say it’s wonderful to be back in my motherland! And on Samhain no less! I could not have asked for a better resurrection. Now do you have something particular to ask? Or shall I tell you a bit of what I see?”

  Perhaps it was the unexpected chattiness of their ghost ancestor. Or perhaps she hadn’t realized there would be a choice, but Evelyn appeared at a loss. She rolled her lip between her teeth and her uninjured hand clasped the other as she considered the ghost’s question.

  “Grandmother. Please. Tell us what you see,” a voice muddled beyond recognition said.

  Florence turned and her face broke into a smile. “Brigit! I’ve spoken to your mother recently. You must know she’s proud of you, we all are. You’ve done right by these girls, putting their safety before your need for love.”

  A tear ran down Brigit’s face as she stared, transfixed, at the opaque figure by her daughter. “Thank you grandmother . . . Florence.”

  Florence nodded approvingly at the show of tears before turning back to Evelyn. “So is that your answer then, too? You’d like to know what I see?”

  Evelyn nodded, and the ghost beamed.

  “You would not believe how many mortals ask ghosts the stupidest questions. But then, the women in my family line always were known for their exceptional cunning. Take me, for example! No one else in my day ever considered stealing a few scraps of paper and vanishing on the day of their trial! That’s how I ended up in this part of the country, of course. I did miss the sea so far inland. But alas, Youghal could never again be home for me, not with that lot of witch hunts across the channel.” She paused, taking in their shocked faces. “Right, then, enough about me. Let’s see, you want to know what I know.”

  No one spoke as Florence ruminated. Lily thought she could hear the dim chatter of onlookers outside the shield and risked a glance. No one appeared the slightest bit shocked that a new, diaphanous family member was floating in the middle of their circle. Can the others see Florence? she wondered.

  A cold breeze tickled her nose and Lily’s gaze shifted to find Florence hovering before her. She shuddered as the ghost’s eyes, which were a shade darker than her gray skin, raked over her. Am I supposed to say something? Lily’s skin tightened and she found herself extending every blink in hopes that Florence would be gone when she opened her eyes once more. When she thought she could take no more, the ghost moved on to Sara without a word spoken between them. The experience Florence bestowed varied depending on the person in two respects: time and response. Evelyn spent mere seconds with the ghost, while Aoife was the object of Florence’s attention for upwards of ten minutes. The responses never failed to reveal the subject's discomfort with Florence’s gaze, whether it be the compulsive twitch of Aoife’s hand or Gwenn’s spontaneous humming.

  Finally, Florence returned to the center of the circle, her face set in grim lines.

  “I’ve gathered that you are a group who could use much advice. As I’m brought here to divulge one, and only one, bit of information, I have chosen to share the most urgent matter.”

  A stiff breeze whipped across Lily’s cheeks, and Florence was before her once again.

  “Your family does not know it yet, but one of their members is in danger. Only you can save her life. Her captors shall call tonight.”

  Lily’s legs swayed. She felt her shield falter and Sara’s extend to meet its cracking edges. “Who’s in danger? Who will call?” she squeaked.

  But it was too late. Florence, sensing the weakened shield, and her way back home, floated up past the confines of the charm and disappeared into the darkness.

  The long grass whipped Lily’s legs as she sprinted toward Fern Cottage. Her muscles burned, pushed to the point of what she recognized from years of cross-country races would likely end in collapse.

  It didn’t matter.

  Florence’s final words played in her head, matching the rhythm of her feet as they struck the earth.

  “Her captors shall call tonight.”

  Without breaking stride, Lily burst through the cottage door. She began a frantic search for the phone, an old cordless that Brigit left laying wherever her conversations happened to end. Pillows flew and cabinets banged open as she ransacked the house.

  “Lily! Hold on!” Sara exclaimed, as she ran through the door bent over and clutching her sides.

  Lily spared no more than a glance Sara’s way before resuming her search.

  “Someone is going to call! I have to find the damn phone!”

  “Stop running about like a crazy person,” Evelyn commanded, pushing inside past Sara and grabbing Lily by the wrist to pull her to the kitchen. “Look, someone’s already called.” She pointed to an ancient answering machine, its light blinking a neon green number two. “Sit down, I’ll do it,” Evelyn said, maneuvering Lily into a chair before punching the button.

  Lily’s heart flew into her throat, as a familiar voice filled the room.

  “Lil, it’s Rena. You’re probably out celebrating with your family. I wanted you to know I got a strange message tonight.” Rena’s voice was flat, yet Lily thought she could detect a string of worry woven through the words.

  “Nothing’s happened, but I want you to be careful. It was from a man . . . I think. The creepy fuck used one of those computer things so I can’t be sure. He didn’t make much sense, but he mentioned you and a book and that you are supposed to meet him? Be careful, honey. I’d feel much better if you stayed in the cottage. The man didn’t sound sane. Call me when you get this.”

  The line clicked off, and Lily exhaled halfway. A creepy call was unnerving but not life threatening.

  “Play the next one.”

  Lily’s head shot up to find Brigit standing right behind her while Aoife and Mary guarded the door.

  Evelyn pushed the button.

  Static played, giving Lily a glimmer of hope that it was a wrong number before an exaggerated twangy Southern accent slid from the device.

  “Howdy, witches. I’d hoped to catch you in person but seein’ as it’s Samhain, I shoulda known better. A new member of your little coven is missin’ something reeeeaaaal dear to them. Bring us Seraphina’s book, and my brother and I may find it in our hearts to let her live. I’m sure you’ll figure out where to find us. Be seein’ y’all soon.” The line died and Lily shot out of her chair to replay the message.

  Brigit blocked her mid-lunge, lips pulled back in a straight, thin line. “Lily, call Rena, tell her to check on everyone in the commune, specifically anyone from the South.”

  Lily stared at Brigit. “Why the South?”

  “Because,” Aoife broke in, her eyes blazing like fire, “I’d bet my right hand that was Empusa, and she sure as hell isn’t from the South.”

  Lily’s mind raced. Empusa? Wasn’t she the vampire Mary said had eaten her way through ancient Greece with her brother? What was his name? They were still alive?!

  “How do you know?”

  “Witches have a long history with Empusa. We find it best to know as much about her as possible. I met her once when I was young. My sisters did, too, and each meeting was a very unwelcome surprise. Empusa and her twin, Amon, make a point of meeting members of the strongest witching families. They have spies who tell them who to investigate. I’ll never forget the day I met Empusa. I had taken a trip to London and she cornered me on the street in broad daylight. It was terrifying. I asked about her afterward and discovered she and her brother Amon have been hunting a relic said to belong to witches for centuries. Rumor has it, in the past they even killed for it. We may have just discovered what that relic is,” Brigit said, her mouth thinner than Lily had ever seen it. “Call Rena.”

  Rena answered on the fi
rst ring. “Lil! Are you alright? I’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Lily said. “How’s everyone there? We did a circle and—something happened. It scared me.” Lily explained Florence’s visit and the strange voicemail, hoping to hear her mother’s reassurance that everyone was home, practicing yoga, making soap, and baking. Instead she heard the vibration of air.

  “Mom? Are you still there? What’s going on?”

  “This caller, Empusa you said her name was? She mimicked a Southern accent?”

  Lily nodded, forgetting they were on the phone, before catching herself. “Yea.”

  “Lil . . . Em left for Portland two days ago.”

  “What do you mean she left?” She heard words, high pitched and trembling. Is that my voice?

  “The women’s retreat, Lil. She’s speaking tomorrow,” Rena spoke as if to a child. “Could I speak with Brigit, please?”

  Lily passed the phone and collapsed into a chair that had materialized behind her. Em practically never left the commune, and only once a year did she travel more than half an hour away. How could they know that this weekend, out of all the weekends, she’d be gone?

  “Ask if they’ve called Em,” Lily commanded, a flutter of panic rising in her throat.

  Brigit nodded but remained silent, listening to Rena. Seconds later, she placed the phone back in its cradle, not having uttered a single word.

  “What happened? Did they get ahold of her? Where is she?” Lily’s heart beat faster than ever as visions of Emily, bound and gagged in the back of a creepy white van, flooded her mind.

  “According to Rena they’ve called to check on her a few times but no one’s heard back. Annika confirmed she hasn’t shown up to any retreat events so far. It’s unusual for Emily to be out of contact?” Brigit asked, looking as if she already knew the answer.