Dawn and Devilry

by S. Usher Evans

  "I am too."

  "Come to bed?"

  "I don't think that's possible," I said, gesturing to Nicole who was lying on my arm.

  "I think…" She sighed. "Gavon, I think you have to make a choice now. It's either your family or New Salem. You can't have both."

  "I know, Mora… I know."

  "And I…Gavon, I don't want to have to say this but…" She sniffed and a tear fell down her face. "Gav, if they make me choose, I'm gonna choose our girls. I don't want to make that choice. Please don't make me make that choice."

  "Do you really think if Irene kicks me out, she won't also kick our girls out?" I said, trying to keep my voice low. "She's had it in for them."

  "Fix it, Gavon," Mora said, standing up. "Please, I'm begging you. This has gone on long enough."

  Domdafosie and Void Lily.

  I wore a hole in my basement floor thinking and re-thinking and searching through every piece of material I'd found on the tear. I was spinning my wheels, but with the clan meeting in the next three weeks, and my new daughter coming in the next two months, the pressure was on. I wrote letters to every magical I knew, went to London to beg Sahil to ask his contacts if they knew anything. I even spent days searching through Alexandra's library, just looking for a mention of the ingredients.

  Finally, like an angel descending from heaven, on a September afternoon, my savior arrived.

  "Gavon?"

  "Sahil!" I blinked, jumping to my feet as the man in question walked downstairs. I was fairly sure I was hallucinating. "This is a surprise. What are you doing on this side of the Atlantic?"

  "Couldn't wait to share what I'd found with you," he said. "Adorable family, by the way."

  "Thank you," I said. "What did you find?"

  "I was in contact with Josefa Vargas, from Seville. She'd mentioned you'd come by to see her, looking for a few potions ingredients. So I set to my various tomes, looking for it."

  I held my breath. "And?"

  "It's an obscure reference," Sahil said, handing me an old journal, not unlike the one I'd been staring a hole into. "But I was able to find another journal mentioning it from a man named Frederico Fages, from Clan Vargas. I put in a call to Josefa, and she sent me a box of his old affects. It took me a few weeks, but I was able to find a hand-written note." He procured another, thicker book and opened it to a page.

  Void Lily — Cypripedium reginae is known as the Lady's Slipper, the Queen's Lady's-slipper, and other names, is a rare orchid native to North America. The plant is rare, and neither magical nor nonmagical have been able to successfully grow it from seed.

  However, it's prevalent in the bogs of Prince Edward Island and other northern climbs, if one searches long enough.

  "This is brilliant," I said, unable to bring myself to smile fully. "One down, one to go."

  "Ah, well, that's not the best news," Sahil said as the book disappeared and another appeared in its place. "Josefa and I were talking about the potion, and she mentioned that I might look into ingredients that increase potency. After all, it was a fairly complex potion already, but nothing in it was particularly powerful. So I spent a few days searching through my library, and I found this."

  D. Cinnabari, sometimes known as Domdafosie, is a tree resin used since ancient times as a cure-all, dye, and varnish for musical instruments. It's used in potion-making to increase the potency of magic within the cauldron, and also as a cure for skin conditions.

  "Sahil, I could kiss you. And Josefa," I said, grinning ear-to-ear. "Seriously, if I wasn't married—"

  "I'm just glad I could be of assistance," he said. "I have to say, it's one of the more complex research projects. Hunting and cross-referencing and—"

  "And please, tell me all about it over a large cup of tea, and soon," I said, grasping him by the shoulders. "But for now, I have a potion to brew."

  The Domdafosie was the easiest to summon, as it was used fairly prevalently, albeit under its pseudonym. But the Void Lily was a bit harder to find, and I spent several hours scouring bogs and marches in the northern climes of North America until I found one.

  With those two ingredients in hand, I assembled the rest of my ingredients, which were much easier to find. I laid them out on the basement floor, checking and double-checking my amounts to make sure I had enough.

  I made no mention of this breakthrough to Mora or the girls, and I kept the basement locked. I wasn't quite sure what this concoction would bring forth, and I didn't want the littles in the house when I did. This potion could be the answer I was looking for, or it could be a deadly concoction that destroyed the house. Or it could be absolutely nothing at all, and I'd wasted eight months on yet another dead end.

  Finally, on a stormy night in September, I'd finished what I'd started out to do. I had gathered all the ingredients to remake Johanna's potion.

  And there I sat for several hours, staring at the plants and minerals and my cauldron, not making a move. Perhaps Mora was right. I'd been putting off this effort as long as possible. Perhaps in my gut, I knew this was the solution I'd been searching for, and it would require me to make decisions I didn't want to make.

  "It's either your family or New Salem."

  I rose from my seat and summoned a small table to rest the cauldron on. I followed the directions with the utmost care, pausing between each step to make sure the colors were changing as they'd been written. As the mixture frothed and bubbled, the hairs on my arm began to stand up. I was truly making something potent—and dangerous. Energy crackled in the room, filling my lungs with an ionic-smelling fume, and I glanced at the ceiling, wondering if I should tell Mora and the girls to leave. I risked an even bigger catastrophe if I moved it—magically or otherwise.

  Finally, I was at the end of the potion, with the final two ingredients—the very special, very strange pieces that Sahil had helped me find. Hands shaking, I said a prayer that my new friend had been as careful as I'd hoped.

  I placed the Domdafosie and waited for the potion to shimmer orange.

  "Daddy?"

  "Nicole, get out of here," I barked. "It's too dangerous."

  "Baby? What are you doing down here? It stinks."

  "Mora, take the girls and go visit Nina," I said, watching the color of the potion. It had shifted from a dark green to a reddish color, but was that orange? Was it ready?

  "Gavon, what the hell are you doing down here? Are you…" She took a step back, pressing her hand to her stomach. "Are you brewing the potion?"

  "Y…no," I said, not sure why I was lying to her. "No, this is something else. Another potion I'm trying. It's a long shot, but…"

  "Oh." The disappointment was clear in her voice. "It creeps me out. How can a potion creep me out?"

  "Because it's…well, it is," I said, hoping she'd take the hint and leave.

  "Do potions always feel this way?" Mora said with a little shiver. "It's like it's alive."

  All the more reason it was dangerous. "Sometimes they do. This is old, deep magic powerful enough to sustain life after the magical who created it was gone. You can only do that in a potion. I'm almost finished, and I'm a little worried it's volatile."

  "So you want us to get out of here?"

  "Just in case," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. "I don't know what this will do."

  "All right. Girls, let's go get some pizza while Daddy…does whatever he's doing."

  I waited for the door to close above, and a few extra minutes for good measure. And it was a good thing, too, for the potion had turned the color of a satsuma. I held the last ingredient in my hands, shaking with nerves—hoping it would work and that it wouldn't.

  With my girls in my mind, I dropped it in and waited.

  The potion steamed, growing white hot and releasing a flash of bright, white light. Then, as if someone had opened a hole in the cauldron, the mixture spun and circled, though it didn't drain out the bottom. And there it sat, swirling in an unending vortex, changing from orange to black to white to green
to blue. And finally, it ended on a pleasant silver color, stabilizing and settling in the cauldron.

  I exhaled a breath. This was it—the potion that had created New Salem. The genesis for everything I'd ever known up until I'd made the tear. And it could be the answer I'd been searching for.

  Carefully, I ladled a bit into a vial, the liquid cool to the touch. The rest of the cauldron, I safely hid in another magical pocket, far away from my house and my girls. And the vial…well, I sent that to a pocket, too. Using it was inevitable, but I wasn't ready to face reality.

  Not just yet.

  Thirty-Three

  I told Mora that the potion I'd brewed had been a failure, but I was close to finding the final two ingredients for Johanna's potion. I just hoped Sahil and Josefa didn't spill the beans. Irene wouldn't have the opportunity to banish me from the clan for three more weeks. And Ashley had been pleased the last time we'd spoken. So I had some breathing room. Besides that, if push came to shove, I would use the potion and that would be that.

  It was time to return to New Salem for another Council meeting (although Mora was told it was another potion fact-finding mission). Alexandra would probably deliver a lecture about the importance of being on time to Council meetings. Today, I arrived a few hours early, just so Alexandra would be able to berate me privately before the rest of the council got a shot.

  I walked into her house, finding her magical signature in her library, as usual. Patting the vial of potion in my pocket, which I'd brought with me just in case, I strode through the house with all the confidence I didn't feel.

  "Well, good to know you aren't dead," Alexandra said, lifting her gaze from the book she was reading. "I had half a mind to search the house for your rotting corpse."

  "I'll consider it a sign of affection that you haven't yet," I said, taking a seat. "Obviously, you weren't that worried."

  "You missed two meetings. That is unacceptable, even for a Councilman."

  "Understandable," I said, feeling the vial shift in my pocket as I adjusted my legs. "And I apologize."

  "I look forward to the masterful lie you'll tell."

  I raised my brows. "I'm sorry?"

  "You wear your emotions on your face," she said, returning to the book. "I know when you lie. It's not your best feature."

  "I do apologize for my inadequacy."

  "I suppose you've heard the news then. Come to argue?"

  I tried to school my features, but since she was reading me like a book anyway, I let them go. "What are you talking about?"

  "Since you neglected to come to our last Council meeting, I made the decision about the boy, James. I've decided you will train him."

  Not wholly unexpected, but also not going to happen. "I can't."

  "Tell me, son, why are you so averse to becoming a master?" Alexandra said, leaning her chin on her joined hands. "And please spare me your usual excuses. I would prefer the truth for once."

  I'd spoken precious little truth these past few weeks. And yet, I did want to tell her the whole truth. About Mora, my girls. The potion sitting in my pocket. How I'd been able to bring fresh food into the village, staving off magical rot and other illnesses. I wanted to tell her that another Warrior was coming, even if that child would never adhere to our customs and traditions.

  "Please don't make me compel you to speak the truth," she said quietly. "I have yet to use that power on any in this village, and I don't want you to be the first."

  "Then…will you promise that what I tell you won't leave this room?"

  She sat back, crossing her hands over the desk. "Is it so dangerous that the Council can't know?"

  "Yes," I said. "Do I have your word?"

  "I'm not promising you anything," she said, sitting back. "But I will do my best to adhere to your wishes."

  "If you ever felt any motherly affection toward me, you will honor my wishes and keep this between us."

  "It is my motherly affection that has prevented me from using a compulsion spell. But it's currently running thin, so I suggest you speak the truth now."

  I exhaled, gathering my thoughts. "I cannot take the boy because…I already have a child. Or I will, very soon."

  "Are you telling me you've succeeded in fathering a child? Finally?" The look on her face was nothing affectionate.

  "Mother—"

  "And, pray tell, is it a Healer? Or," she chuckled, "are you cursed with a brood of bastard Potion-makers? Are you here to beg me to allow them to live?"

  The corner of my mouth twitched, and I forced myself not to look enraged.

  "Even if this child turns out to be a Warrior, which is not guaranteed, you won't be able to raise it," she said. "The child would go to Cyrus—"

  "The child is a Warrior," I said, keeping my tone even.

  Alexandra's indifferent mask finally slipped away. "Are you certain?"

  I nodded.

  "This is… Gavon, this is wonderful!" she said, standing. "You've saved our Guild! Two Warriors! It is a blessing."

  "There's…more," I said. "She won't be inducted into the Guild. She belongs to a Clan. Clan Carrigan."

  For the first time in my life, Alexandra looked shocked—truly shocked. "I don't… I don't understand what you're saying."

  So I told her everything—except, of course, about my two other children. I told her about the tear, and how I met Mora and we'd fallen in love and gotten married. I told her about exploring the world, about Clan Carrigan, and everything therein. I told her about the Danvers Accord and specialties. I spoke until my voice was scratching in my throat, and I had no more I wanted to tell.

  "All this time," she began slowly, "you've been living in the new world? That's where you've been disappearing to? And where you've been getting all this fresh food?" I nodded. "Why haven't you told me before?"

  I scrambled for an excuse that wasn't the truth. "I've been researching. Learning what I can. The world is very different than ours. The nonmagicals have become quite adept in their…weaponry." Yes, better to make her think the world was dangerous. "They have bombs—nonmagical attack spells—that can obliterate entire cities in a single blast. I thought it best to be cautious."

  She stroked her chin as if she didn't believe me. "And you're telling me this now so I won't give you another child to raise?"

  I nodded. "My daughter will be here soon, so I won't be able to take care of the boy. Give him to Cyrus or take him yourself."

  "Gavon, that's not how it works," Alexandra said. "Your child will go to Cyrus."

  "My child will stay in my world, with her mother and me. By virtue of her birth, she's bound to Clan Carrigan, and therefore must adhere to their rules." I swallowed, ready to level the final blow. "And I must also inform you that I'm working to close the tear I made."

  I didn't think it was possible for her to look surprised again, but she managed it. "So you'll go off into this new world and leave your people behind?"

  "No. That isn't my preference, but…it's also not my choice." I considered my words, wondering how much to share. "Clan Carrigan wishes to close the tear with all of us still inside. If my mother-in-law had her way, I would be included in that number. But there are others who might be willing to allow us our freedom, if we were to agree to some parameters."

  "Whatever assurances they need, I will give," Alexandra said with a wave of her hand. "Whatever agreements they will ask of us, I, and the clan, will gladly approve. My first priority is and always will be the health and wellbeing of the clan."

  "Even…if it means giving up our specialties?" I said slowly. "The Danvers Accord, it was made to prevent magicals like us—Warriors. But there are no more Charmers, no more Enchanters. No more Healers and Potion-makers. Just…a very basic kind of magic."

  "Then how are you having a child with Warrior magic?"

  "Because while my wife is bound by the accord, I am not. And that, is…well, a loophole, I guess. And one they'd like to close."

  "By updating this accord with signatures fr
om the New Salem Warrior's Guild."

  "Yes. I don't know how that would work, if it would be my future children or if we'd be under the spell immediately. I also…well, I don't have the original signatories. It will take me months—perhaps years to find them all. Even longer to convince them that updating the agreement is a good idea."

  "Perhaps a signed letter from the Guildmaster might convince them otherwise." She procured a quill, ink, and paper and wrote hastily, signing with a flourish.

  I, Alexandra McKinnon, do hereby agree to sign the Danvers Accord in its entirety on behalf of the New Salem Warrior's Guild.

  "Will that be enough?" she asked.

  I took the letter from her and tucked it into my front coat pocket. "I will bring it to them."

  She smiled, and some of the lines on her face disappeared. "What does the sun feel like?"

  If only I could tell her about the blistering sunburns, the taste of a cool ice cream cone on a hot day. The smell of salt water and the laughter of little girls playing on the beach.

  "I look forward to showing it all to you very soon."

  My mother's letter and the vial of potion sat heavily in my pocket as I walked up to Ashley's house. All I wanted was a vote of confidence—the ability to move forward with updating the Danvers Accord to include the inhabitants of New Salem. Alexandra's signature on this letter was as binding as any—as long as she was Guildmaster, the guild would do as she said.

  "Gavon, come in, come in," Ashley said, waving me weakly into his office. "I apologize for not getting up, but the old body doesn't move as well as it used to."

  I smiled, but the reminder of Ashley's age didn't sit well in my stomach. Did I have years to update the Danvers Accord? Or would Clan Carrigan's change of leadership veto it immediately?

  "Tell me, how are those girls?"

  "They're wonderful," I said. "Our new little girl should be here in a couple of weeks. We're very excited."