by Bonnie Lamer
There’s no point in denying that he’s right, so I don’t. “I need a favor,” I tell him.
Urim inclines his head. “Are you about to ask me to change someone’s fate?” he asks, the suspicion growing in his voice.
I consider his question carefully. Will what I’m going to ask him to do change our fate, or keep it on its destined path? I’m not sure. “Maybe,” I reply honestly with a shrug.
Eyes narrowing to slits, Urim asks, “Is the definitive answer to that question on those papers you are clutching so tightly that they are about to disintegrate?”
Glancing down at the papers I hurriedly grabbed from the counter before coming here, I realize he’s right. I unclench my hands and try to straighten the papers out again. I’m relieved to find the writing on them still legible. I hold them out to Urim. “I need you to read them and tell me what you think. But first, I need to tell you what’s going on.”
Taking the papers, Urim warns, “It is unlikely you will convince me to alter anyone’s fate, Xandra.”
“I know,” I admit. “Right now, all I’m asking is that you listen.”
He nods. “Fair enough. Tell me what has filled your heart with fear.”
Taking a deep breath, I begin my tale. I fill Urim in on the arrival of my children, the Council, and what happened to Raziel and Adriel. He listens without interruption.
When I’m finally done, the Angel shakes his head in wonder. “I was warned this day would come, but I did not want to believe it would.”
It seems Rashnu isn’t the only one Raziel talked to. How did that Archangel manage to keep so many secrets, yet not keep them at the same time? I don’t envy Raziel his omnipotence, nor the decisions he’s had to make over the years about when to share his knowledge and with whom.
“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with a Cowan work called Paradise Lost, but someone took notes from the text and left them for us. You’re mentioned in them.” I hold the papers out to Urim. I don’t bother to tell him that I believe Raziel left the clues because I can’t be certain that no one else is listening. I don’t see anyone else around, but Angels are sneaky.
Urim takes the papers from me and reads through them. It doesn’t take long. When he’s done, he looks up. His eyes are burning with so much rage, I’m tempted to take a few steps backward. Until I remember how close I am to the cliff and wisely decide to stay put.
“Where did you get this? How do you know these things to be true?” he demands to know.
Still conscious of being overheard, I choose my words carefully. “Someone we both know and trust led me to that information. I believe in my heart that it’s true.” After a beat, I add softly, “You do, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so angry right now.”
Urim’s chiseled chest moves up and down as he takes deep, calming breaths. “You are correct,” he acknowledges with a nod. “But tell me, whose fate do you believe needs changing?”
“It’s not really about fate,” I hedge, trying to come up with the right way to explain it. “It’s more complicated.”
Urim quirks a brow. “More complicated than fate? I do not believe such a thing exists,” he says with a smirk.
I hold up a hand, warding off any offense he may have taken at my words. “I’m not saying fate isn’t complicated. I have no idea how you weave everything together like you do. But this is different.” I move closer and very quietly explain my idea to him and what, exactly, I need from him. Anyone trying to listen would need to be right on top of us to hear my words.
When I’m finished, Urim shakes his head, and I can’t quite read his expression. “I should learn not to underestimate you,” he says. I don’t think he means that as a compliment.
“Can it be done?” I ask hopefully.
Urim takes so long to consider his response that I feel the need to poke him with a stick just to make sure he’s still conscious. Finally, he says, “Maybe.” He hands the papers back to me.
Maybe. At least he didn’t say no. “How can we turn that maybe into a yes?” I ask.
The Angel begins to pace. “I will need Tabbris’ help, of course.” And her permission, I assume. “Voloel is a given, and Lailah will side with us.” Urim stops pacing and his eyes lock with mine. “Why did you come to me first? Why did you not start with Lailah?”
I know my Grandmother will side with us. That’s a given. But I did have a reason for making Urim my first stop. Two of them, actually. I offer up the first one. “I was told not to go looking for allies,” I tell him.
“Yet, here you are,” Urim says with a twinkle in his eye. He knows that’s not the main reason I came to him first.
I nod. “Here I am. Since you were in those papers, I assumed it was a safe bet that you’d be on our side.” With a sigh, I acknowledge the second reason aloud. “I also came to you first because if you can’t do what I’m asking, it wouldn’t do me any good to talk to anyone else here.”
Urim gives me a wry smile. “Good point.” Suddenly, he stiffens, and his face becomes serious. He gives me a pointed look. “I believe it is time for you to return to the mortal realm.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. Obviously, someone is coming. “Thank you,” I mouth as I let my wings pull me back to the Fae realm and my family, secure in the knowledge that Urim will do everything he can to help us.
Chapter 32
“Go where?” Dagda demands to know when I return to the kitchen. It takes me a minute to realize he’s responding to what I said right before I left to see Urim. Obviously, no time has passed here.
“She has already gone and returned,” Kallen informs him wryly. As he speaks, his disapproving eyes stay on me. I can’t blame him. I would be upset if he left without explaining himself at a time like this.
“Sorry,” I mouth to my husband. He acknowledges this with a nod, but he’s far from pacified.
Nonplussed, Dagda says, “What?” Then realization hits. He figures out that I must have gone to Angel time. Rolling with it, he asks, “What did you learn?”
“I didn’t learn anything new, but that wasn’t why I left. I went to ask for help,” I explain.
Isla is immediately concerned. “Rashnu told you not to seek assistance. You may have put yourself in even more danger if you approached the wrong Angels,” she chastises.
Placing the papers I retrieved from Urim back on the table, I point to them and then my head. “I was following the instructions that Raziel left,” I explain.
“Instructions? What instructions? I don’t think you were reading the same thing the rest of us were,” Kegan says. Alita gives her husband a disapproving look for interrupting and gestures for me to continue.
“I was reading the same thing,” I assure Kegan. Turning to Isla, I say, “I know what Rashnu said, but there was one particular Angel I had to speak with. We need him to make something for us.”
“Make what?” Kallen asks.
“A miracle?” Garren suggests, only half joking. Isla gives him a sour look, which he ignores.
He’s not that far off. “Sort of,” I say with a shrug. This gets everyone’s attention and several around the counter sit up a little straighter, suddenly hopeful. Laying the papers out, I begin to explain the message I believe Raziel was leaving us. When I’m finished, I glance around the room at the stunned faces. When they finally start to speak, the reactions are exactly what I expected them to be.
Shaking her head, Mom says, “Xandra, that’s crazy.”
“I agree,” Dagda seconds.
“Seriously, you believe Raziel messed with your brain and left you messages?” Kegan asks doubtfully.
Not everyone is a disbeliever, though. “It could work,” Isla says with a truckload of hesitation in her voice.
I smile at her attempt at support. To everyone, I say, “I believe enough for all of us that it will work.” I do feel the need to add, “Providing Urim can make what we need and get the other Angels on board without getting caught.” Not to mention the allies
Rashnu is out rounding up.
Isla nods. “It does hinge on that critical piece.”
“Do you really think we can do all that?” Zyla asks. For the first time, I realize that even though they came from the future with the purpose of getting us to help save them, they were far from confident that it would happen.
I reach my hand out to my wide-eyed daughter and then my other out to my son. My children place their hands in mine, and I give them a squeeze. “I know we can do this together.” There is enough confidence in my words to plaster over the cracks in their confidence. Kallen reaches out and places his hands over ours in a show of support. Both of our children smile and nod as they do their best to feel my and Kallen’s confidence.
“Now that we have that settled, what should we do while we are waiting for Urim?” Kallen asks. I don’t know if he’s really as confident as I am, but if not, he’s keeping that to himself. No signs of dissent show on his face in front of the kids.
I don’t have a good answer to his question. Shrugging, I say, “I don’t think there is anything for us to do.”
The hope and confidence my earlier words started to build in the eyes around me begins to fade. Sitting around doing nothing seems like the wrong thing to do when the Council is coming for us. But I honestly don’t know what to suggest.
Mom slaps her hand on the table. “Not true,” she says with a forced grin as she rises from the table. “I still have some traps to set. We don’t want to be surprised by any more random attacks while we’re waiting for the big guns to come for us. So, I’m going to do what I can to show unwanted company why they shouldn’t mess with us. Any volunteers to help me?”
“We can help with those, Grandma,” Xavion says with an eager grin. He jumps off his stool to join her.
I cover a laugh with a cough. The look on Mom’s face when she’s called Grandma for the first time is hysterical. She’s torn between horror at the realization she’s old enough to be a grandmother and pride. Fortunately, pride wins out, and she gives her grandson a hug.
“Grandma?” a stunned young voice says from the kitchen doorway.
I turn to find my broth Zac standing there. I can’t help but marvel at how much he’s grown since we moved to the Fae realm. He’s almost taller than me now.
“Uncle Zac!” Xavion says with a wide grin, rushing to greet him with a pat to the back. “It’s good to see you.”
Interesting. The shock on Zac’s face isn’t nearly as dramatic as I thought it would be. Despite his stunned expression when he heard Mom being referred to as Grandma. I direct my gaze past him to Tana, who walked in behind my brother. She must have gathered him from the Palace on her way back here. I give her a questioning look over my brother’s head. She knows that I usually prefer to have Zac safely ensconced at the Palace when bad things are going down.
“I thought he would like to meet his niece and nephew,” Tana says without apology.
“These are really your kids?” Zac asks me, staring at first Xavion and then Zyla in wonder. His eyes find Keelan and they grow even wider. “You’re really baby Keelan?”
“Yes, they are,” I assure him. “Zac, meet your niece and nephew, Zyla and Xavion. And yes, that really is baby Keelan.” The pride in my voice is evident as I introduce my brother to my children. Placing a hand on my stomach, I add, “The twins be here as babies in about seven months or so.” I debate asking the kids what their actual birthday is, but decide I’d rather be surprised.
“We were just going to help Grandma set some magic traps around the house. Want to help?” Xavion asks Zac.
“Yeah!” Zac replies.
Excitement replaces my brother’s wonder at having his niece and nephew here from the future. Both for having kids here close to his age, and because he gets to do something with his magic besides study and a few experimental spells during his lessons. There are usually strict rules regarding what he can and cannot do around the house. Witch magic can be unpredictable in the young. Though, we may need to reconsider those rules. I doubt my brother could do anything as serious as almost destroying the entire house like my children did earlier.
“Great,” Xavion says with a wide grin. Then he whispers conspiratorially, “I once used one of Grandma’s Fairy Trap spells on Keelan. He was stuck in it for an hour before Grandma found out and made me set him free.”
“Then our Dad grounded him for a month from using any magic at all,” Zyla tells Zac. Pointing her finger at first her brother and then her cousin, she says, “I would avoid doing anything either of these two suggest.”
I shake my head and ask Kallen quietly, “What is it with male cousins and playing tricks on each other?”
“I believe it is something in our DNA,” Kallen says in my ear. He’s only half teasing. Loud enough for the kids to hear, he says, “Mind what your grandmother says, and do not teach your uncle anything that will get him in trouble.” He gives a disappointed Xavion a stern ‘dad’ look.
Our son nods reluctantly. “Fine,” Xavion grumbles under his breath while his sister smirks.
“Alright, come on,” Mom says with an encouraging smile. “We have a lot of work to do.” She stops and looks at Keelan who hasn’t risen from his stool. It’s obvious he’s not certain if he’s invited. “What are you waiting for? You’re coming too,” Mom informs him. Keelan jumps off his stool and gladly follows Mom and the other kids out of the kitchen.
When they are gone, Tana turns to me. “I did not want Zac to miss this opportunity,” she says in her defense. She doesn’t add, ‘Just in case this is his only chance to meet his niece and nephew.’ The statement is spoken with her eyes, though.
I wave off her concern. “It’s okay. I was actually going to get him myself. We have a plan now, and he’s a part of it.” Plus, I’m glad he gets the chance to hang out with the kids doing something fun before that.
“Before we get into all that again,” Dagda interrupts, “what did you learn from the Sasquatch?”
Tana sighs. “Not much. They are basically just thugs for hire. Mercenaries. They received an anonymous message about a job, and they jumped at the opportunity to try to take down a high-ranking Fairy. Instructions and half the payment were left for them outside their house. The payment was large enough that they did not care about discovering the source. They simply followed the instructions and made their way here. They were a little surprised to discover this was where the famous Witch Fairy lived, but they did not believe the tales told to them by their peers. Feeling overly confident in their abilities, they attacked without doing any reconnaissance. They now regret that decision.”
I smile proudly up at my husband. “And to think, the ‘famous Witch Fairy’ wasn’t even home when they arrived.”
Kallen wraps an arm around my shoulder and smirks. “The Fae did fight a battle or two before this Witch Fairy being came along,” he teases.
I quirk a brow and snark, “Really? I thought you saved all the battles for me considering how many I’ve fought since arriving here.”
He shakes his head in mock disapproval. “Do not blame the Fae because trouble follows you like a trail of ducklings following their mother.”
Laughing, I admit, “It really does.”
Isla clears her throat and gives us a pointed look. “Perhaps we can get on with the discussion.”
“Sorry,” I mumble sheepishly. I’m glad the kids left the room. Their parents scolded in front of them for being inattentive to matters at hand would lessen our credibility as the scolders.
Speaking of the kids, I glance toward the door and ask, “Do you think making the traps is really necessary? It doesn’t seem likely that more mercenaries will show up.” Not many beings are as brazen as the Sasquatch. Not to mention, most smart mercenaries would insist on more time to do a job.
“I suspect your mother is simply trying to keep them busy,” Dad says with a knowing smile. “Distracting them to keep them from worrying about the coming battle.”
I nod in
understanding. “Good idea.” Having a group of restless and nervous kids who happen to have a lot of magic at their disposal sitting around doing nothing does seem like a recipe for disaster. I appreciate Mom realizing that and taking it upon herself to do something about it. I just hope she can handle them.
I’m not the only one thinking along those lines. “Hopefully, the house will survive this method of distraction,” Tabitha grouses. But I notice she’s staring fondly toward the door the children departed from. She’ll forgive them any trouble they may cause.
“Looking forward to having more kids in the house?” I ask with a wink.
Schooling her face, Tabitha goes back to whatever she was doing near the fridge. “Children with manners, anyway.” She’s not fooling anyone, and she knows it.