by T. M. Cromer
The brothers shared another speaking glance, and Keaton was left to wonder what the hell had gone on in this damned family. Right now, he didn’t care as long as they put aside their differences long enough to save the woman he loved.
“What about Nash?” Preston referred to Alastair’s estranged son.
“It’s a possibility. I know he has the book smarts. But I don’t know if he’s practiced physically healing anyone.” Alastair pulled his smartphone from his coat pocket and made the call.
A young man, nearly the spitting image of Alastair, arrived within minutes. Three massive ancient tomes were cradled in his arms. “Table,” he commanded.
Preston was quick to fulfill the request. As Nash spread the books out on the flat surface, he discussed various poisons and how they affected the nervous system of a witch. “The key would be to isolate the toxin used.”
“GiGi indicated it might be a mixture of Wolfsbane and Witchbane laced with arsenic,” Preston volunteered.
Keaton’s eyes widened. Even he knew Wolfsbane and arsenic were poisonous. He wondered at the Witchbane. As a newbie to the world of magic, he had no clue what that particular herb could do.
“Thank you for coming, son,” Alastair said to Nash.
“I didn’t do it for you,” Nash said coldly. “I’m doing it for Autumn. Though why I would help a woman who punched me in the face is beyond me.”
A burst of inappropriate laughter escaped Keaton. All eyes turned to him, and he shrugged. “Sorry. It sounds like something she’d do.” To Nash, he said, “If it makes you feel any better, she nailed me in the gut a few weeks back. She has a wicked right.”
Nash’s lips twitched, and his eyes drifted to the woman on the bed. “It’s appropriate that she’s a fire element.” He turned serious once again. “Let’s get to work.”
“What’s first?” Keaton wanted to know.
Nash held out his empty hand. A moment later, a needle and four tubes appeared. “We draw her blood and test it.”
When Nash moved to insert the tip into Autumn’s vein, Alastair stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Gloves. Whatever this poison is, it’s extremely toxic. You prick her and then accidentally prick yourself, we’ll have two of you in stasis.”
Nash gave a short nod and conjured a pair of gloves for his hands. “Better?”
Alastair backed away to give Nash the space he needed to work. “GiGi used to have an antidote.”
“She used the last of it on Chloe yesterday,” Preston volunteered from where he rested his back against the wall. “She couldn’t make more because the herb used to counteract the poison is now extinct.”
Fear crawled about in Keaton’s chest and restricted his ability to breathe. If they didn’t have what they needed, what were Autumn’s chances of survival?
Even as he thought it, he noticed a small potted plant appear on the table that hadn’t been there moments before. “Uh, guys.” When the Thorne men shot him curious stares, he pointed. “Is that the herb?”
“How the hell did you conjure that?” Alastair demanded.
“I didn’t. It appeared.”
“A gift from the Goddess,” Derek explained.
Keaton approached the teen. “Do you have a direct connect to her right now? How do you know that?”
“I’ve been receiving messages from her since I woke up,” the boy explained.
Hope bloomed, and Keaton grinned. “She wants us to save Autumn.”
Derek nodded and offered a tentative smile.
“Where does the balance come in? You mentioned that earlier.”
“It’s a cosmic balance,” Nash inserted into the conversation. “I’ve read about it. If Isis is offering to save Autumn, she wants something in return.”
“Something or someone?” Keaton demanded. “Autumn wouldn’t want anyone to take her place.”
“The text wasn’t exactly clear on the scroll I acquired.” Nash gave a very Autumn-like shrug. “But it indicated an exchange was needed.”
Keaton returned his attention to Derek. “Does she say which?”
The boy shook his head.
“Let’s not look beyond the gift Isis is trying to provide,” Alastair advised. “We don’t have time to examine her motives if we want to save Autumn before dawn.”
As Alastair placed the necklace around Autumn’s neck, Keaton couldn’t help but think her color shifted to a slightly lesser shade of gray.
Preston said as much.
“It’s the stone,” Alastair informed them. “It has a life-restoring force.”
“But how? It alters the moods of those around it,” Keaton protested.
Alastair’s gaze sharpened on him. “You continued to wear it after we returned?”
“For about a week.”
“Foolish boy. You didn’t know the power you possessed. One wrong slip of the tongue…” Alastair’s anger was a sight to behold. The rage simmered below the surface, and his eyes blackened to coal. Terrifying to the extreme.
“I didn’t know,” Keaton said lamely.
“Damned novice,” Alastair muttered.
“Cut him a break. Not everyone is as all-knowing as you,” Nash said.
“I called you, didn’t I?” Alastair snapped. “Obviously, I believe you are the most knowledgeable person to consult.”
Preston pushed off the wall. “Let’s shelve the animosity and help my daughter, please.”
“What needs to be done with the plant?” Keaton ventured. “I can get started on that.”
“Actually, you can wake Winnie and see what she has in her workshop to extract what is needed from the plant,” Alastair suggested. He faced his brother. “Try to get GiGi here. She’s the most skilled healer of us all.” To Derek, he said, “Wake my niece Spring. With her skills, she might be able to graph a section and grow more plants. I don’t want to destroy the last plant in existence.”
“And Summer?” Preston asked.
“I don’t think there is much she can do right now other than lend support. Let her sleep.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. “I need to bounce back to my home for magical supplies. Nash, can you create a list?”
“I’ll go with you. There may be useful items I can’t think of off the top of my head.”
“Shouldn’t someone stay with her?” Keaton was loath to leave her alone.
“I’ll stay until you return, son. Hurry and wake Winnie.”
Alastair’s small kindness threw him. The man was hard as steel, and yet, on occasion, he actually seemed compassionate and downright human. The turnabout kept Keaton rattled. Most likely, that’s what Alastair intended.
When Keaton returned to Autumn’s room with Winnie, Alastair nodded and teleported with Nash. It gave Keaton time to wrap his mind around the consequences should their last-ditch effort to revive Autumn fail.
“I love you,” he said huskily as he stared down into her beautiful, still face. “You fight from your side to return, and we’ll fight like hell from this side to bring you back, okay?” He traced the outline of her features. “Tell Isis, I want you back, and if I can’t have you here with me, I want to go with you into the afterlife.”
The air shimmered in response to his words. An image of the glen flashed before it was gone again.
His gaze shot to a startled Winnie. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“I could swear it was the clearing between our houses.”
Her face lit with hope. “Of course! We have to get her to the clearing!”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will when you see it.”
Winnie’s sense of excitement was contagious.
“Okay, how do we transport her. Do we wait for the others to return?”
“Yes. Let me run to the attic and get what I need.” She tossed him a set of gardening shears. “Clip off a piece of that plant. Not from the top. A leaf with a partial stem should
do it.” She paused on her way out the door. “Better multiply that by three just in case.”
When she was gone, he approached the herb which resembled a basil plant. How could something as small as this provide what they needed it to?
The others returned, and within minutes, they’d moved their entire healing operation to the clearing. They formed a circle of the people present. Derek, who was still weak from his ordeal, watched from outside the circle. Each person took up a position about ten yards from where Autumn lay on the grass.
Keaton still didn’t understand what all this was about, but he dutifully swallowed part of the leaf Winnie presented to him.
“It’s to prevent the poison from attaching to us through the magic like it did Autumn and Chloe. An inoculation, if you will,” Alastair explained. “We might still feel a bit sick afterward, but nothing life threatening.”
“Hold your hands palm out on either side of your body,” Spring instructed. “We are going to be a conduit for the magic.”
Keaton did as he was told, facing his left palm toward Alastair’s outstretched hand and his right palm toward Spring.
From across the distance, Preston nodded his approval.
“Are you really going to start this party without me?” a female voice questioned from behind Keaton.
He whipped his head around to see GiGi striding toward the group. Relief flooded through him. He’d seen her heal others twice before, and his confidence in her was strong. “Thank you, GiGi,” he said feelingly.
“Of course, dear boy. She’s my niece. Now, move over and make room.”
She positioned herself between him and Alastair without sparing a glance for her brother. Apparently, she had no intention of acknowledging his existence.
“You need some of the plant, sister,” Alastair stated with a nod in Winnie’s direction. “We won’t start until you can protect yourself.”
Keaton observed her expression soften marginally.
Perhaps something good would come of this tragedy if saving Autumn was impossible. As soon as he thought it, he rejected the idea of her not returning to him. Isis was on their side.
Preston started to chant, calling on the Goddess and on his element. Bright-white light poured from his palms in an outward direction. Winnie and Nash joined in and channeled the light. Next were Alastair and Spring.
Keaton paid close attention to the language and the words. Soon enough it was time for him and GiGi to repeat the phrase and complete the circle.
When the ground rumbled beneath his feet, Keaton’s nerves got the better of him. One-by-one, moss-covered ancient stones rose from their nesting place below the earth to encircle the group. Each stone stood roughly three to four feet in diameter and easily ten feet or more in height. If someone told him this was possible without him witnessing the process in action, he’d have called them a damned liar.
Although his voice trembled from his frayed nerves, he repeated the phrase as did the others until all the stones had settled in place.
“Take a few steps forward and join hands,” GiGi instructed.
As one, the group shifted.
From his vantage point, Keaton could see the wide-eyed wonder on Derek’s young face. He felt a kinship with the kid. The whole ceremony was awe inspiring.
“Alastair, what’s next?” Preston asked.
Alastair nodded toward Autumn. “It’s time for the Chintamani Stone to work its magic. Nash?”
“Everyone, call on your element. Use it to encapsulate the poison as it leaves her body. It’s important you encase the mist completely to prevent it from reentering the host.”
“This is like a movie where we have to get rid of the parasitic alien,” Keaton muttered.
“You aren’t wrong,” Alastair laughed. “Put on your proverbial spacesuit, son, and get to work.”
“What do we do with the poison once we remove it?” Keaton wanted to know.
“Direct it to the stone urn by her head. Preston, GiGi, and I will do the rest,” Alastair instructed. “On the count of three. One… two… three.”
Pulling from Autumn’s past instruction, Keaton worked the magic in his cells, careful to push and not pulse the power. He lifted the water from the bowl by Autumn’s left hip and held it steady until the black smoke-like substance emanated from her mouth and nose. All the elements attacked the mist at once, ripping it apart, wrapping around a section, and shoving it toward the urn opening.
Sweat beaded Keaton’s brow and ran down the side of his temple. He struggled furiously to hold the poison. It fought like it had a life of its own. Just when he believed he had it contained, the damned thing would writhe and twist free.
“Control your power, boy!” Preston boomed.
The command added the extra edge Keaton needed—pure unadulterated fear of Autumn’s father. Keaton had no intention of facing that man should he fail.
His was the last piece to go into the urn before the lid snapped into place. A golden rift opened in the center of the field. The air shimmered as it had in Autumn’s bedroom. Except in place of the image stood his beloved’s spirit. The ghost of her former self.
Beside her stood the most beautiful woman Keaton had ever laid eyes on.
Isis.
She had shimmering black hair piled high on her head, classical features—delicate, yet strong, and light amber eyes that glowed bright in the dark night. Her body was encased in a white off-the-shoulder dress belted by a gold rope chain. Her wide smile encompassed them all.
“Well done, my children. Very well done.”
Isis focused her penetrating gaze on Keaton, and for a moment, he was lost but for the light shining from her entire being. Again, she smiled. “Take care of this gift I give you, my dear,” she told him.
“I will,” he promised.
With a regal nod, she snapped her fingers and called the urn to her. Then she retreated back into the opening. The sides of the rift sealed shut with a blinding gold light.
When he could peel open his eyelids, he noticed Autumn’s spirit was gone.
Heart hammering, he broke the hold with Spring and Gigi to rush forward. He crashed to his knees at Autumn’s side. “Babe?”
While her color was restored to normal, she didn’t awaken.
“What’s wrong? Why isn’t she waking up?” he cried frantically.
GiGi laid a hand on his shoulder. “Patience, dear boy. She has to get used to the physical body again.” Her words offered hope and calmed him.
“Maybe you should kiss Snow White,” Nash said with a lopsided grin.
“Snow White?” Keaton asked in confusion.
“Snow White was poisoned by the wicked stepmother, had seven dwarfs, was laid out in a clearing… Not dissimilar to Autumn. Except she was poisoned by Lin, and we aren’t dwarfs. The only thing she needs is the Prince to kiss her awake.” Nash laughed and gave him a slight shove. “That’s you in case you’re too dense to understand.”
Keaton wasn’t fool enough to believe his kiss could wake her. But he leaned over and pressed his lips to Autumn’s all the same. Into the soft kiss, he poured all the love in his heart. All the yearning from his soul. He hadn’t realized he was crying until he pulled back and a single tear fell onto her pale cheek.
When her eyelashes fluttered and her breathing deepened, Keaton buried his face against her throat. “I love you, Autumn.”
A cool hand cupped the nape of his neck, and the fingers stroked the hair there. In that second, he knew she’d returned to him.
“Our work here is done,” Alastair quipped with a clap of his hands. “Who’s in charge of hiding the clearing stones?”
Chapter 23
Autumn found her physical body much heavier since her stay in the Otherworld. While there, she only had to think about a destination to get from place to place, not unlike the magical teleporting, but it required no effort at all.
Two days had passed since Autumn woke in the glen, and there was a piece of her that missed th
e afterlife. Missed the beauty and thrill of her place beside Isis. Missed her mother with whom she’d gotten to reconnect and spend time. Missed just sitting beside a glorious lake and debating the meaning of life with those who’d left it far behind.
While she’d been unconscious mere days here, she thrived for weeks on end there. Heartaches and hurts had quickly dissolved into nothingness—as if they had never existed. The only thing remembered or felt had been love.
Over the last few days, Keaton had split his time between her and Chloe. And while Autumn tried to indicate he should take care of his daughter, he insisted he could do both. Today was one such day.
A light knock sounded on her bedroom door before it inched open. Keaton carried a tray into the room.
“Good morning, babe.”
She stared at him dispassionately.
His smile dimmed.
“Still not speaking?”
She shrugged. It wasn’t as if she’d lost her ability to talk. Or at least she didn’t believe so. No, it was her will to talk that had taken a hike. Autumn had nothing to say that required vocalizing. Whatever she needed could be obtained with a simple jotted note if she was inclined.
Keaton set the tray across her lap. On it, he’d arranged a daisy in a vase and a giant cinnamon roll, dripping with icing.
“I thought maybe we could share.”
Again, she shrugged, inched the tray toward him, then turned her face to the window.
“Are you mad at me? Is that why you are treating me this way?” he asked softly. “Because I was an ass to you the day Chloe fell ill?”
She faced him and sighed before she shook her head.
“Then why?”
His tortured gaze left her cold. No compassion, no desire to ease his plight, no feeling whatsoever warmed her. With a grimace, she shook her head. There was no way to explain.
“Do you want me to leave?” he finally choked out.
If she said yes, she suspected she would damage their relationship for good. But she also didn’t want him around. Not yet. Not until she came back to herself—if she ever did.
In place of answering, she ripped off a small chunk of the roll and popped it in her mouth. She attempted a smile, but the food tasted like sawdust in her mouth. Without bothering to be ladylike, she spit the food into a napkin and frowned.