Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  Chloe tried to ignore the building tension in the air and, instead, focused on the magic she felt. In one shop, a woman was rolling out dough in front of a large picture window. She stopped and stared as Chloe and Bram passed her window. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafted towards Chloe from the woman’s open doorway before it slammed shut without any assistance. In another shop, a man was cutting tiny purple flowers from a raised bed while a cat laced itself in and out of his legs.

  “Why aren’t there Sprees everywhere?” Chloe asked. “Bram, they could save hundreds, thousands of people.”

  Bram stopped outside a dark wooden door. The shop had a massive canopy of herbs drying upside down above their heads and smelled of lavender and sage. “It’s not that simple.” Bram took a deep breath, and the birds stopped chirping as he reached for the handle. All the bustling sounds had stopped, and the narrow cobblestone street was empty. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  “No. It’s not,” a voice answered back as they entered the shop. “But, then again, nothing’s ever that simple. Is it?”

  Bram didn’t answer the woman’s voice. His body was blocking most of Chloe’s view of the shop. But she could tell the voice had come from behind the long glass display counter that spanned the entire length of the room. Bram seemed to be instinctively shielding Chloe as if protecting her from the witch.

  “The Spree spell takes thirteen witches thirteen years to cast. And it’s not like we knew what the damned fae had planned,” the voice behind the counter snapped. “So, it’s Bram now; is it? And who do we have here?”

  A huge raven perched next to the counter gave a deep raspy call as if it were demanding Chloe to reveal herself. The bird was massive with a wingspan that had to be at least twenty feet long. Bram gave the majestic creature a respectful nod, and the raven unexpectedly reciprocated before looking at its mistress. Chloe peeked around Bram, and a young, bright-red-haired woman’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

  “By the Goddess! You’ve got some nerve; haven’t you?” The witch’s long red hair floated around her as she started pulling things from her counter and putting them away. “Shop’s closing ladies and gents. Lilith, come back in about an hour, love. The herbs you need for your neighbor’s wards will be in bloom by then.”

  “Thank you, Mary,” Lilith said. She left the shop along with the rest of Mary’s customers and gave Bram a suspicious look as she closed the door behind her. The light around the edges of the old weathered door glowed blue before the door disappeared and seamlessly became part of the dingy plaster wall.

  The shop was quaint and efficiently organized. Books and glass bottles of every shape and size lined the shelves behind the counter. Some of the bottles housed vibrantly-colored liquids while others looked like something left over from science experiments. Powders, dried herbs, and precious stones were displayed in bulk inside massive glass jars on tables all around the shop. Tiny silver scoops floated in the air, suspended above each of the jars. Light was shining through the store window where plants and flowers basked in the sun’s glow. Chloe envied the Spree and all it had to offer.

  “Mary…” Bram started but was cut off.

  “Not talking to you. Your girl asked a question,” Mary scolded. She walked towards Chloe and turned her hand over, creating a small transparent sphere out of thin air in front of them. It hovered just above Mary’s palm, refracting the sun’s light in a rainbow of colors just like the bubbles Chloe had played with as a child.

  “A Spree is like this bubble. Manipulate it too much, like, say, trying to force too many things in that don’t belong,” Mary said, looking at Bram. She touched the bubble with the tip of her finger. “And it pops.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a square piece of silver cloth. “I take care of me and mine. That even includes some humans from time to time. But the rest in your world are a selfish horde, a mob that would just as soon take what’s mine and see my kind hang for what we can do.” Mary held the cloth between Chloe and herself as though it were a mirror.

  Chloe looked through the fabric. Mary’s image looked back. But it wasn’t a youthful image staring back at Chloe. Mary’s bright-red flowing hair was gone, replaced by sparse white puff. Liver spots peppered her creped skin. She’d grown old and wrinkled, hunched, and frail.

  “The Fae aren’t the only ones with glamours.”

  “So I see,” Chloe chided back.

  “Tsk, tsk, just a fragile little thing, aren’t you?” Mary mocked, looking Chloe up and down from her black-and-blue forehead to her torn hands. “Your kind is damaged so easily. It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.” She turned her all-seeing cloth briefly towards Bram and rolled her eyes at whatever image looked back at her.

  “I can hold my own,” Chloe stated. She didn’t like the way Mary spoke to her as if she were a naive insignificant child.

  Mary laughed, ignoring Chloe, and spoke directly to Bram. “You took a risk coming here. Any one of us could have cast you into the nine levels of Hell. Not even you are above our powers here. Or our wrath.”

  “Do you have it?” Bram gave her an annoyed sigh.

  “We still might,” Mary threatened. “Whatever you have planned, with her looking like the vile serpent, Famke, herself, we want no part of it.”

  Bram stared her down, unfazed by her threats.

  “Of course I have it,” Mary spat. “You’ve made it impossible to be rid of it, or you, for the past three-hundred years. Or have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  Mary gave him a harrumph, but nodded in agreement. She put a hand to her ear and swirled her fingers. Tiny wisps of green luminous smoke appeared and Mary sent them out of her shop window and down the cobblestone street with another swirl of her wrist. The birds outside Mary’s shop started chirping again and the sounds of conversations and people bustling resumed. Chloe wondered if the magical smoke could be Mary’s way of communicating with her coven maybe even letting the rest of the witches know Bram’s true intentions behind his presence in their Spree.

  Mary walked into another room, and the giant black raven gave a threatening caw, as if telling Chloe and Bram not to try anything stupid in Mary’s absence. She came back with a rectangular leather case and placed it on the counter. As she opened the case, the raven unfurled its massive wings and flew up into the rafters above, all without disturbing a single item in the shop.

  Inside was what looked like the pommel, grip, and guard of a sword with no blade. The hilt was made of either ivory or bone, Chloe couldn’t be sure, and it was carved into the pattern of scales colored a deep-red hue. The color was familiar, almost a perfect match to the pendant Chloe wore, but before Bram had turned the gemstone black. Chloe imagined the beautifully-carved scales mimicked the texture of a dragon’s leathery skin.

  “With its return…” Mary looked down at the object and then back at Bram. “…my debt is paid, yes,” she stated more than asked.

  “Yes,” Bram said.

  “Swear it,” she demanded.

  “I swear it. Your debt is paid,” Bram agreed.

  Mary lifted it out of the case by the grip and offered it to Bram. The light in the room seemed to darken for a moment.

  “You know I can’t,” Bram said in a defeated tone Chloe hadn’t expected.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she taunted and turned to look at Chloe. “Here, love.” Mary tossed the handle at Chloe like it was merely a set of keys.

  Chloe reached up and caught the grip, and as soon as the guard touched her hand, a sharp metallic sound rang out, like a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Chloe sucked in her breath in surprise as a sharp blade appeared. The weapon was deadly-sharp, long, and slightly curved. When Chloe turned it in her hand, she could see dark red symbols carved deep into the metal.

  “Oh, he likes her,” Mary teased.

  The statement infuriated Chloe. Besides being treated like a feeble human, she also had to listen to the old hag make phallic references. The
n, as if a match had been lit and placed against a gas line in a fireplace, the sound of a roaring fire filled her ears. Chloe noticed the glow that filled the room before she looked down at the sword. It was on fire. From the guard all the way down to the point, the flames licked the edge of the blade as if it were ready for war. The deep-red symbols glowed in an undulating motion.

  “Oh, he definitely likes her,” Mary said in awe.

  “That’s just great! But maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me what the hell I’m supposed to do with it now?” Chloe asked, a mix of astonishment mingling with her anger as she watched the flames dance along the blade. Wait. Did she say he? Chloe wondered to herself.

  “Tell me, love; when you touched the sword, were you irritated? Maybe thinking of me and my disdain for humans?”

  “Yes,” Chloe admitted, looking to Bram for reassurance. She could feel a surge of power resonating from the sword. It felt like it wanted to be unleashed on the world and bathe in the blood of a glorious battle. The power was intoxicating.

  “Chloe, you need to calm down. The Spree is neutral ground. If it feels threatened this place will defend itself,” Bram pleaded. He looked worried. But when his eyes fell on the flaming sword, there was a longing in them, a yearning to touch the power Chloe was getting a taste of.

  “Think of him.” Mary nodded towards Bram.

  “What?” Chloe questioned.

  “I wager you’ll garner the opposite effect than I’ve had on the girl.” Mary said.

  Bram shot Chloe a worried glance. His confidence in her seemed to have faltered, which only fueled her rage. So, instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sword, controlling it, soothing it, all while calming her own anger. When she opened her eyes, the flames were gone. She focused even harder, and the blade retracted with a metallic shink.

  Chloe whipped her head in Mary’s direction. “Don’t say it,” she threatened.

  “Oh, I like her.” Mary beamed, and that time, she looked at Chloe when she said it. “Get this poor girl something to eat, for the love of the Goddess; would you?” she instructed Bram without looking at him. “Then, you can be on your way, hmm?” Mary tossed a leather sheath to Chloe before she turned to the shelves behind her in search of something.

  The sheath was just the right size for the carved bladeless handle. Chloe strapped it to her upper thigh and made sure it remained hidden under her trench coat. She wondered what would have happened if Bram had taken the sword instead of refusing. How much power would he have wielded?

  “Ah,” Mary said, grabbing a tiny glass vial from the shelf above her. “For your wounds.” She walked over to Chloe.

  “What is it?” Chloe asked, looking at the almost-empty vial. Particles of what appeared to be white glitter and dust clung to the walls of the tiny vial.

  “Crushed bloodstone, three shavings from a unicorn’s horn…” Mary stopped abruptly. Chloe was giving her a horrified look. “I asked his permission first, of course. I’m not a monster.”

  She shoved the small vial into Chloe’s hand. “Put this in your soup down at Hilgrid’s, every speck of it. She’ll be expecting you.” Mary swirled her hand around the air near her ear, and green wisps of smoke ventured out of the shop and down the cobblestone road.

  “I also need ingredients for several wards. All laced with silver filings.”

  “Of course you do. Then, you’ll be on your way.” Mary turned to Bram. “Whether the storm has passed or not, yes,” Chloe noted that, again, it was more of a demand than a question.

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “But,” Chloe objected, “how will we…?”

  Mary harrumphed. “Fine. You may use the Spree Mirror to portal, but just this once.” The witch thought of something and walked behind her counter again.

  “We can portal? Anywhere?” Chloe gasped.

  Mary harrumphed. “This isn’t Diagon Alley and the name’s not Harry; it’s Mary.” She chuckled. “No, mortals can’t portal just anywhere like witches. You’d be turned to mush without the proper preparations. But you can use the Spree Mirror.” Chloe was giving her another horrified look mixed with confusion, so Mary explained. “Think of it like your Seattle’s rail system. There are fixed destinations you can use the Mirror to get to. Countless covens and a few centuries later and there you have it –the Mirror, our very own established transportation system interwoven throughout realms. Step into the Spree’s Mirror, and you’re portaled to the closest hub we have to where you want to be. We keep the Mirror on a tight schedule, so don’t be late. The last one’s in an hour. It’s a new moon tonight, so you don’t want to be out when the real darkness comes.” Mary walked back to Chloe and handed her another small vial. She turned to Bram. “This and all the rest are going on your tab.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Bram said, distracted by something he was holding in his hand. “Add this to the tab as well.” He held up a small gold coin before quickly putting it in his pocket.

  Mary grunted.

  “What’s this black goo for?” Chloe asked, twisting the vial Mary had just placed in her hand.

  “Motion sickness. Travelling through a Spree Mirror can be quite disorienting. At least to humans, or so they say.”

  “What’s in it?” Chloe asked. The surface of the thick black liquid inside the vial bubbled up like primordial soup.

  Mary scrunched up her nose. “Best to just drink it quick, love.”

  “Holy shit! She’s that Mary Bradbury? From the Salem Witch Trials?” Chloe asked as she emptied the contents of the healing potion Mary had given her into her soup.

  “One in the same,” Bram said, eating a spoonful of his own soup.

  Hilgrid had placed Chloe’s bowl on the table with a warm smile. But when she turned to Bram, she had proceeded to splash half of his soup out onto the table and floor. He thanked her sincerely anyway. Chloe was saddened by the wastefulness, especially with the food shortage she knew to be imminent outside the Spree. Hilgrid had walked off in a disapproving huff and left Chloe and Bram in her now-empty shop.

  Chloe spotted a few specks of unicorn horn shavings left in the vile clinging to the glass. She filled her spoon with some broth, carefully poured it into the tiny vial, and swirled it around before upending the vial and drinking it. She was relieved that unicorn horn shavings didn’t have a taste.

  Bram chuckled.

  “What? She said every speck.” Chloe laughed back.

  “No, I know. That was just…cute.” Bram smiled.

  “Cute?” She laughed again. “Cute in the apocalypse. Yay me.” Chloe blushed. She had to admit it, though. It was nice having a semi-normal meal and some conversation. Albeit in a Witch’s Spree hidden to human sight, eating with a fae, and about to portal through a magical mirror. Chloe wondered if they’d be transported somewhere close to Coleman Dock or to Bremerton itself. Bram hadn’t offered the location of their desired destination, and Mary hadn’t asked.

  Hilgrid came back out with two sweet-smelling cups of coffee and placed one in front of Chloe. “You look like a coffee girl such as myself,” the witch said kindly. She turned to Bram, and her warm smile turned to a sneer. “A sweet farewell gesture courtesy of Mary reminding you to best be on your way, beast.” Hilgrid slammed Bram’s coffee on the table.

  Beast? Chloe thought to herself. Just what is Bram’s history with this coven of witches anyway? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, and Bram wasn’t sharing. Hilgrid looked like she was ready to murder Bram where he sat. “Thank you for everything, Hilgrid,” Chloe said, trying to ease the tension. She took sip of coffee in the awkward silence, and it was pure heaven. “Oh my god, I can’t thank you enough for this!” Chloe blurted out. She buried her nose in her cup, inhaled deeply, took a long sip and sighed.

  Hilgrid laughed. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

  Chloe’s bladder reminded her she hadn’t peed in quite a while. “Please, tell me the Spree comes fully furnished with bathrooms?”

  “Either
side, where you first came through the Spree. You’re welcome to use any you like, but mind the Ogre’s restroom. It tends to be a bit ripe this time of day.” Hilgrid laughed again and started walking back to her kitchen. “Bast, it’s suppertime, little one. Come on, girl.”

  Chloe felt something very small brush affectionately against her leg, right before glowing green eyes peered up at her from underneath their table. A tiny kitten with silver-and-black Bengal striping came out of from its hiding place, licking its whiskers. The kitten looked between Chloe and Bram and almost seemed to sneer at the male fae before sauntering towards the kitchen.

  “Bast?” Bram queried.

  The kitten stopped and turned to look at Bram. Her green eyes glowed even brighter, almost in acknowledgement.

  “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I just thought you’d be...bigger,” Bram said.

  Bast exhaled an audible huff and scampered into the kitchen before Hilgrid closed the door.

  “Wow, even cute little kittens don’t like you,” Chloe teased.

  “That cute little kitten is over three-hundred years old.” Bram gave a quiet chuckle. “Still, I’ve given most the familiars and witches here plenty of reasons to dislike me; I’m afraid,” he said in a more solemn tone.

  “They really don’t like you –like you. I mean; it’s like they’re begging you to try something stupid so they can banish you to Hell or something,” she added.

  “Or, something.” Bram evaded. He reached across the table and placed his hands, palms up, in front of Chloe. “May I?” He gestured to her hands.