by Gina Shafer
It feels right, giving them a Sicarri death. We’ve always burned the bodies of any Sicarri who died, ensuring that their bodies could never be stolen by a demon. We watch as the flames just crest the surface of the holes, and we stand there until the flames die out like the children whose bodies they just engulfed. And, then we cover the remains, placing the most beautiful rocks we can find at the head of their graves.
“What now?” Soren asks, letting me take the lead on this one. The truth is, I have no idea what our next step is. I don’t know where we go from here. I sigh, looking up to the sky. It’s getting dark now, and the sky is turning that beautiful shade between blue and purple. The only thing I can think is that the sky wouldn’t be this beautiful if it knew the ugliness that went on just below it.
I open my mouth to speak, and something changes. I feel a shift inside me, almost like I don’t fit inside myself anymore. A tightness. When I bend my fingers, they’re stiff. I try to move my neck, but I only feel pain.
Suddenly I’m surrounded by blackness. Pure, without a speck of light in any direction. It would almost be peaceful, if not for the aches in my body. I’m on my knees, my arms chained on either side. Only my hands are not my hands.
But I know them.
They’re Elijah’s hands.
Suddenly, I realize what’s happening. I’m having a vision, and this is the first time that I’m completely aware of it as it’s happening. This is my chance. I sweep my head from left to right, looking for clues.
All I see are bars and chains. There’s a small cot in the corner of the room with a mattress thinner than a piece of cardboard. It’s dark, so I have to squint to make out any details, and that’s when I feel it. There is something clutched in my hands—Elijah’s hands. He twists it so the sharp end is toward him and holds it deftly in his palm and so discreetly, if I was an outsider looking in, I’d completely miss this little detail.
I’m jolted back, nearly thrown into my body, standing next to Soren with only the whisper of my name in Elijah’s voice, sounding through my head.
“Karina? Do you hear me?” Soren asks, bracing his hands on my shoulders and giving me a shake.
“I-I saw him,” I whisper, my eyes rising to meet his.
“You—”
“I saw him. Elijah. Just now. I was there, where he is. And I think… I think he’s planning to escape,” I tell him, words rushing so fast out of my mouth, I have to stop and take a breath. “He had a nail clutched tight in his fist. I felt hope, Soren, and I know it was coming from him.”
“Holy shit,” Soren says, letting me go and running his fingers through his hair. Willow comes up from behind me, sniffing where we laid Mya and James and whimpering. “Did you see anything else, anything to do with his location?”
“No,” I answer. “I couldn’t see much of anything, it was so dark. There were bars and chains holding him down in the center of the room. I got the feeling he’s not always hooked up to them though. There was a cot in the corner,” I explain.
“Do you think you can handle speaking to McCade right now?” Soren asks me.
I frown, not understanding why he’d want to go back in there after what I just told him.
“I want to see if we can get him to mention anything about a dungeon or underground cave,” Soren explains. “But it has to be nonchalant. He can’t know we’ve seen Elijah, or he’ll expect we’re close to finding him. We have to pretend to be as clueless as we were five minutes ago,” he says, and I nod.
“But Soren, we’re still clueless,” I whisper as we walk back to the house.
“Hopefully not for much longer.”
Our footsteps are light as we walk. Even Willow walks with a gentleness I haven’t seen from her. We’re ready, we’re going to nail him this time… no pun intended.
Part of me knows I’m riding a high after having my first vision without completely freaking out. I wonder what Lincoln would say.
Downstairs, Soren’s hand lifts in front of me, stopping me from twisting the doorknob. He brings a finger to his lips, telling me to shush. He then points to his ear, and that’s when I realize.
McCade’s voice is a low murmur on the other side of the door. He’s talking to someone, and the only person that comes to mind is Vara. Shit. Is he connected to Vara the way I’m connected to Elijah?
Shit.
Is he connected to Vara the way I’m connected to Elijah?
Panicked, my eyes fly to Soren’s once more. He nods, telling me his thoughts are on track with mine.
This isn’t good. In fact, this is about as bad as it gets. I have no idea if this kind if magic is blocked by Lincoln’s spell. Hell, I have no idea what this type of magic even is, and that thought scares me more than anything.
I grab the doorknob and twist it, entering the room and interrupting McCade, giving him a look that tells him I know exactly what he’s been doing. As much as I hate to admit it, we’re going to need Lincoln for this one.
“I called Lincoln,” Soren whispers
My shoulders sag. “And?” It’s been quiet since we interrupted McCade connecting with Vara in the basement.
I gaze at the fresh graves beyond the back window. A bird hops happily over them, snatching up the worms that rose to the surface when we disturbed the soil. This little bird has no idea of the horrors that are buried below its little feet.
For a moment I’m jealous, because if that bird saw it, saw the horror, would it even care? I don’t want to care anymore. And yet, I care more than ever. I hope.
I want Elijah.
“He’s on his way, though I’m not sure I should be here when he comes.”
“No, Soren. You have to be here. We need you.” His head hangs heavy, and his elbows rest on his knees. He’s sitting in the same spot I was not long ago, in that little rusted chair. Willow’s head rests on his boot as her tail flops, shoeing away a fly. “Really, you know we need to stick together now more than ever. We have to trust each other,” I say, softer this time.
Soren laughs without humor. “We don’t even know who he is really, and we’ve put all of our trust into him because he’s given us information when we needed it most. What the hell else is he hiding from us? He’s a demon. A fucking demon. And he’s the brother of the demon we have captured. We shouldn’t have called him for help,” Soren says angrily.
“Soren, you of all people should know that just because someone is family doesn’t mean that they’re exactly family.
Movement in the corner of my eye draws me up short. Beckett steps inside the back door, flanked by Lincoln, who stares at Soren.
It doesn’t take a genius to recognize the hurt in his eyes, and I’m embarrassed he heard what we said.
Soren holds his gaze, unblinking, unfailing, until finally their gaze is broken when a scream wails from the basement. We all flinch, even Beckett, whose eyes are more glazed over than ever.
“We have to hurry,” Lincoln tells me.
I guess I’ll be the one he deals with now. Lincoln lightly shoves Beckett out of the way so he can enter the kitchen fully. “I know a spell, but it has to be done before nightfall. It harnesses the power of the sun to sever the connection between two souls. I haven’t done it in an extremely long time, so I’m going to need some time.”
“Tell me why the fuck we should trust you? You’re his brother.” Soren’s shoulders bow, rage clear in his bulging veins. “You. Lied.”
Lincoln starts to speak, but he’s cut off by more screams from McCade.
“So help me, Lincoln, if you’re not with us, if you’re lying, I will kill you, do you understand?” I tell him, my voice dripping with sincerity.
“I understand.” He nods, gravely.
“Then let’s get started.”
Soren shoves himself away from the table and it screeches along the floor a couple inches as he stomps from the room.
“What do you need?” I ask Lincoln.
“Blood,” he says, and my brows rise. “Not much.”
He looks at me questioningly, and if I’m not mistaken, almost sheepishly. My blood?
I fish a dagger from my back pocket and look up at him expectantly. Willow, who surprisingly didn’t follow Soren outside, whines next to me.
“This is where I’m out, baby girl. I ain’t ever liked the sight of blood,” Beckett announces. He salutes and excuses himself from the room, tipsy and wobbly. I turn my head to watch as he plops himself down onto the cushions of the couch. Within seconds, snores come from the living room.
I roll my eyes and turn back to Lincoln. “Where to?”
“Follow me,” he says, and we go down to the basement.
Just before we enter, Lincoln stops us. “Willow, you need to go find Soren.” She lifts her tail defiantly and then runs back up the stairs.
“This isn’t going to be easy, Karina, and I’m sorry for that. But I know you want to find Elijah, and I know that this will bring you one step closer.” He looks into my eyes, his own flicking back and forth between my irises. Once he feels like I understand, he nods and then all hell breaks loose.
McCade growls, his muscles straining against the ropes.
It’s almost shocking, since he’s been so calm since we brought him here; I’ve never seen emotion like this from him. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t startle me. I regard him with wide eyes, and Lincoln notices.
“He knows what we’re about to do, Karina, and he would do anything to keep us from severing his connection to Vara.”
“Brother! Brother! How can you do this? You knew me once, and you know me now. Do not let these unburnt come between us,” he begs, though I see that Lincoln’s face shows no emotion, no war inside himself.
“I can find June for you. I know where she is. Don’t do this, and I’ll take you to her,” McCade says, desperate.
I notice a tiny flinch, a twitch in Lincoln’s brow. I know more than anything that he wants to find his daughter. I would feel the same way.
“We don’t need your help,” I growl at McCade. “We’re going to find her, just like we’re going to find Elijah, and when we do, your bones will still be rotting in the ground.”
McCade laughs at this, which only increases my anger.
“Don’t give into him, Karina,” Lincoln whispers, his hand closing on my fingers, which are still clenched around the dagger.
“I’m going to have to lift the ward from this room,” Lincoln tells me.
“But that means—”
“Stay with me, Karina. Do you understand?”
I nod, tightening my grip on the blade.
Lincoln closes his eyes, and in the next instant I feel a change in the room, almost like a current has been forced through the walls. Magic flows through me, and all around me.
McCade smiles, but before he can utter a word, Soren busts through the door with Willow at his side. He must feel the energy in the room, because he slows, and I notice goose bumps rise on his upper arms.
“Now,” Lincoln tells me, eyeing the blade in my hand.
I drag the dagger across my forearm, breaking the skin. Blood slowly wells from the cut. Lincoln covers the wound with his palm, collecting it. Then he walks over to McCade and smashes the hand over his face, leaving a red handprint across his skin.
Suddenly McCade’s ropes and chains clatter to the floor, and he stands. Soren charges him, and Willow comes to stand in front of me, her teeth bared and her tail straight out.
Lincoln starts to mutters words I’ve never heard, in a language I don’t recognize.
“No!” McCade shouts.
Soren lands a punch to his gut, and McCade bends over in pain. Then McCade lunges at Lincoln, a murderous glare on his face, and something overtakes me. An energy I’ve never felt before hits me in the stomach and rises all the way to the roots of my hair.
“Stop,” I say, and McCade does. He pauses—no, he freezes in mid action, only his eyes, full of panic, moving around the room.
Soren regards me with shock. Lincoln stops for a fraction of a second and then continues his spell.
I grip the energy that surrounds me and hold it tight, imagining myself wringing it around my knuckles like wet fabric. It’s almost tangible, that’s how powerful it is.
“Karina, be careful,” Soren whispers. Willow whines somewhere close. It’s only then do I look down and realize that my skin has taken on a glow, almost like I’m lit from within.
And before I’m ready, Lincoln finishes his spell. The room is quiet.
Silence.
And then I feel the magic disappear, almost as if a string were cut above me, and the fabric falls away, stripping me of the magic that was blanketing my skin. McCade falls in a heap to the floor.
“What—” I start.
“It’s done,” Lincoln says, and it’s the first time that I’ve seen a hint of emotion on his face. His brows are almost knotted above his eyes, and his lips are turned down as he stares down at his brother. He walks from the room, and I watch with wide eyes as Willow follows closely on his heels.
When the door shuts quietly behind them, Soren lifts McCade’s heavy body off the floor and sets him back into the chair, tying his ropes and relocking the chains, testing their strength until he’s happy with them. A high-pitched ringing brings him out of his crouch.
It takes me a moment to realize it’s the upstairs phone, connected to the wall. A phone that hasn’t rung since we’ve been here. A phone that should in no way be ringing right now. But, for some reason…it is. All I can think of is Elijah and I run upstairs. The ringing stops as I round the corner of the top of the stairs and skid to a stop in the kitchen.
Beckett has answered, and he’s holding the receiver out to me with a terrified look in his eyes. I grab it from him, careful to avoid our fingers touching, then lift the phone to my ear. Before I can speak, another voice rings through my head. One I’ve heard before. A voice I’ve come to hate.
“You haven’t killed him, have you?” is the first thing Vara asks. “You better not have killed him.”
“His connection to you has been severed,” I tell her, resting a hip against the kitchen cabinets. The move is much too casual for this conversation, but I’m hoping by placing my body in the right position, it will help calm me.
“Shit.” She swears.
I’m surprised to hear how rattled she is by this. Just as I’ve always known McCade to stay calm, Vara has been the same.
“How did a girl like you figure out how to do that?” she asks.
I realize McCade never told her about Lincoln. Did he tell her about Soren? “Lincoln helped us.” I reveal this little bit, hoping it will help me gain insight into what McCade has shared with her. What the hell do you know, Vara?
“You’re still working with Lincoln?” she asks, ice in her voice.
And there it is. McCade didn’t tell her, which only makes me more anxious to find out why. “He’s proven himself helpful.” I move the phone from one ear to the other. Soren lingers outside of the kitchen, and Beckett sits at the table, his eyes damn near burning a hole into the wood floors.
“Ha!” she exclaims. “Even if you ever did get Elijah back, he’ll never be the same.” She laughs, but that’s not what draws me up short. It’s the mention of Elijah’s name on her tongue.
“Tell me where he is, and I’ll give you McCade,” I plead.
“It’s funny you should mention that,” she says. “I was beginning to grow tired of this game anyway. I’m willing to make a trade—Elijah for McCade.”
“Where?” I ask, breathless at the thought of seeing Elijah again.
“The lake where Elijah grew up. Seven o’clock tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding it since you two are so in love. I’m sure he’s told you everything about the place. Even the little part about marrying me as the sun set over the water.” The line goes dead. Not even a dial tone. Silence surrounds me, traveling through the old wood in the house like rot.
Finally, I hang the phone back up and I look t
o Soren. “Do you know where your parents got married?” My face feels too hot, my eyes too wide. The rescue relies heavily on this information.
“Why? What’s going on? Was that—” He can’t get himself to say Vara. I see the war in is mouth against her name.
“She wants to make a trade. McCade for Elijah. We have to meet her. She said something about a lake. I’m not sure, but we have to find it, we have to be there.” I rattle off my thoughts like I have no control over them.
“Wait a minute, did you say lake? Like the one Grandpa had?” Soren says, almost to himself, deep in thought.
“Yes!” I almost scream, pacing the room. “She said the one where Elijah grew up. Where they got married. I’m assuming Elijah’s dad used to live there.”
“I know where it is,” he says, though not a trace of the excitement I feel is reflected in Soren.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“That place… we haven’t been back there in ages, and I’m fairly certain it’s not safe. Crawling with demons.” In true Sicarri fashion, he pulls himself together and begins to pack the few things we’ve taken with us from place to place. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow,” I murmur, remembering Vara’s voice and the way she delivered the time and location. “Tomorrow,” I say a little louder. “Seven o’clock.”
He answers with a nod of his head, and moments after, our lives become a blur.
Somewhere between it all, Soren informs me that we have to drive all night, but he thinks we can make it in time. We’ve already discussed, in depth, our plan for McCade. Lincoln has every faith that I’ll be able to harness the energy I tapped into the night that I knocked everyone out before we got to this cabin.
I, however, am not so sure. In fact, I’m worried.
But now that the time has come, we’re ready to go, and everyone is waiting on me. I guess it’s now or never. The six of us, including Willow, are in the basement, all eyes on me as I attempt a go at my very first intentional spell.