Spectrum of Magic Complete Series - Spell Breaker - Fate Shifter - Cursed Stone - Magic Unborn - Libra

by D. N. Leo

  Riley’s laughter stopped instantly, and the smile vanished from his face.

  “Not good?” she asked.

  “Oh no . . . I mean yes, I’d like the sandwich.” Riley said nothing else. He grabbed Aris, put him on his lap, and stroked his back. But Aris was no longer purring.

  Suddenly the sense of death engulfed her. The room started to spin, and she couldn’t breathe. She could sense death occasionally, but it had never been this strong. The plate she was holding slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor. She stormed out the kitchen door to the back garden.

  The cool air made her feel a bit better, but she was still quite dazed. In a corner of the garden stood a beautiful woman. She looked at Keeva with a smile on her face.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Michelle.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “You do. Not now . . . but in the future, you’ll know me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You are me. Take care of Riley and Noah.” The woman turned around and vanished into thin air. Then the world turned completely black. She couldn’t feel anything except the sensation of floating in the nothingness.

  Chapter 14

  Sounds gradually came back to Keeva, and along with it, the familiar sense of air and life. She opened her eyes and found herself in Riley’s arms. He was carrying her. She shifted in his arms. “Put me down. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You fainted in the kitchen.”

  He was using what people often called his doctor’s tone, and the best way to handle it was to be obedient. Keeva said nothing. Riley lay her down on the sofa and directed, “Stay down.” He stopped her when she tried to sit up. “You cut your hand on the broken plate. I’ll get something to patch it up.” Keeva noted that her left arm was bleeding. As Riley left, he signaled Noah and pointed at her. Noah nodded and came to sit on the coffee table beside Keeva.

  “He always liked that?”

  Noah rolled his eyes and nodded. “My friends at school used to call him Mr. Serious. But he just cares. Too much sometimes.”

  “You let your friends call your dad that?”

  Noah shrugged. “They stopped after a while.”

  Aris approached, hopped on the coffee table, sat next to Noah, and started washing himself. Keeva narrowed her eyes. “I know how kids act. Your friends wouldn’t just stop calling your dad names because you asked them to. What did you do to convince them?”

  “Nothing. Maybe some weird things showed up in their lunchboxes. That happens to naughty boys, you know.”

  Keeva laughed.

  “You saw my mom, didn’t you?” Noah’s tone was exactly the same as when he had told her about his friends’ lunchboxes. The psychic kid must have lived with weird things his whole life. It had become a part of him. Keeva sat up and looked into his eyes. He looked straight back at her, waiting for an answer.

  “How does your father handle your visions?”

  “I’d never told him before. But they started to cause migraines, and it got so severe that Dad thought I had a brain tumor. So I told him about my visions. He believed me. Since then, the migraines have stopped . . . Are tuna and cucumber sandwiches really your favorite?”

  “Yes.”

  Noah nodded. “It’s my mom’s favorite, too. Dad doesn’t like them, but he pretended to in order to please Mom.”

  She smiled. “That’s very sweet. They must have been very happy together.”

  Noah nodded. “Before I was born, they were so happy. Mom told me everything. What they did. Where they went. She said Dad was broken when she left him, and if I’m a good boy, I’ll take care of him.”

  “I’m sure you’re a good boy. See, you stayed here and watched me just like he asked you to. You must miss your mom very much. When did she pass away?” She tucked a strand of curly hair back behind Noah’s ear.

  “When she gave birth to me. That’s what Dad said.”

  “So . . . you talked to her . . . spirit?”

  Noah nodded and a tear rolled down his face. “But she’s stopped seeing me for months. I don’t know why. I must have done something wrong.” More tears rolled down his face.

  “No, no, sweetie. I know she has her reasons.” She reached out, pulled Noah into her lap, and cuddled him while he sobbed. It hadn’t been for just a short period of time that he hadn’t seen his mother, it had been a long while. He had lived with the vision of a dead woman for his entire life. She rocked the boy on her lap, rubbing his back to soothe him and thinking about her own mother.

  Riley came back and stared at the scene before him. When Keeva stopped rubbing, Noah turned around and saw his father. He stood up, wiped his tears. Riley crouched. “What happened, Noah?”

  “Nothing. I’d like to go to bed now.” Noah walked out of the room. Aris trailed right behind him.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Riley said.

  “Don’t need you,” Noah’s voice echoed down from the stairs.

  Riley turned and looked at Keeva. “What did he just say?”

  Keeva said nothing. He’d heard the boy well enough. Riley sat on the sofa and reached out his hand. “Let me see. I’ll patch it up.”

  She snatched the medical kit from his hand. “I can do it myself, thanks. You go after Noah.”

  “No, it was just a tantrum. He’ll get over it. He has to grow up sooner or later.”

  “He misses his mother. He’s lonely. It’s more than a tantrum, Riley.”

  Riley stood up. “You know nothing about us, Keeva.”

  “I know enough to know that you let your son starve emotionally because your heart was broken when your wife died.”

  His eyes darkened, and his face hardened. “I’m doing my best to give him whatever he wants. But I’m not his mother, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Yes, there are things you can do to fix it.”

  Riley gave her a dismissive look and turned on his heel.

  “Hey!” she called out loud enough to stop him in his tracks.

  “What?” he growled back.

  “You might think I know nothing about the pain of losing someone, that Lorcan and I come from privilege and have never had a hard day in our lives.”

  “I love Lorcan like my brother, but which part of what you said isn’t true?” his voice was cold as steel.

  “My mother has been missing for two days. Father went crazy and shot Lorcan. And now he’s gone into town to look for Mother and hasn’t answered my calls for hours. There was a dead body in the kitchen one minute, and then it had disappeared the next. I couldn’t even call the cops because they would think I’m crazy. I can’t look for my mother because I have no idea where to look.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Your pain was so enormous that you saw nothing else. My mother’s been missing for only two days, and it hurts so much. Imagine your son living with that his whole life.”

  “I . . .”

  “No, don’t say anything to me. I’m not in the mood to discuss who can handle more pain.” She stomped out of the room. She didn’t look back, but she knew he stood there for a while, staring after her.

  Chapter 15

  Orla ran as fast as she could in the woods. She remembered the general direction of Lorcan’s house. If her calculations were right, she would be there in no time. The image of the bullet hitting him replayed countless times in her head and burned like fuel that made her run even faster. She knew he had to survive first in order for the wound to heal. When they were on the island and he was shot by arrows, Ciaran had to pull them out so that his wound could start healing. Who would do it for him this time? Removing a bullet wasn’t exactly the kind of skill that just anyone had.

  Suddenly, she smelled smoke. Someone was nearby. She caught a glimpse of a fire and crept among the trees to get closer. She recognized Uncle Daly and Bradan. They appeared to be arguing, but she was too far away to hear anything. Uncle Daly paced back
and forth, arms waving in the air. Bradan appeared to be listening and then responding, but he didn’t seem to agree on whatever it was they were arguing about.

  When Orla was about to move on with her task at hand, she saw a large shadow leap at Uncle Daly from behind. It was too dark for her to tell what it was, but she could tell from the shadow that the animal was enormous. Bradan physically attacked the animal.

  Why didn’t he use his magic? He ought to have some skills!

  Orla darted in their direction with caution. She had nothing on her that resembled a respectable weapon, but she could throw fireballs, which by all means would be more effective than clawing back at the wild animal as Bradan was doing. When she was close enough, she threw her first ball at the backside of the creature.

  It roared and turned, looking at her.

  She could see it now. It was an enormous eagle with reptilian skin. “You’re goddamn ugly!” Orla said and threw another fireball. The creature flapped its wings and lifted itself off the ground. Before it released Daly, its claw ripped his body apart. Bradan screamed in fury and charged at the creature. It swung a wing and threw him into a tree like a rag doll.

  Orla threw more fireballs at it before it flew at Bradan, talons readied. The creature glared at Orla, and in that short moment, she saw a gleam of something familiar in its eyes. Her fire didn’t seem to do much damage to it. She needed a weapon. She conjured a spell in her head, and the tree branches of a nearby tree peeled from the trunk.

  The creature could hear the crack of the trees. It flapped its wings and spat a stream of blue fire toward Orla. Hell! Orla knew she couldn’t get out of this one. She hadn’t thought a ‘bird’ would have the ability to breathe waves of fire. There wasn’t enough time for her to dart for cover. She could feel the heat heading toward her.

  But just then the fire hit an invisible shield in front of her and bounced off, burning the nearby tree. She saw Bradan lower his arm. So that was his talent! He couldn’t attack, but he could use some kind of shield to divert the energy elsewhere. The creature turned so fast that Bradan couldn’t do anything about it. It flew at him and punctured his chest with its claws.

  Bradan fell to the ground, grasping the feet of the creature and pulling it down with him. The tree branch Orla had broken free then became a sharp weapon. She swung her arm, and it stabbed deep into the creature’s back. It uttered a horrific quacking noise, flapped its wings, and flew off into the darkness.

  Bradan lay on the ground, gasping for air while blood gushed from his chest. Orla helped him up into a sitting position, hoping it would lessen his blood loss. “You fool! If you don’t have any skills to protect yourself, why upset that ugly monster? Hang in there. If you die on me, I’ll curse you at your grave and all the way to hell.”

  “I’ll end up in hell, will I?” Bradan joked weakly. His head lolled back onto her shoulder, and his consciousness was ebbing.

  Orla looked around. They were in the middle of the woods, and there was no way she could carry him back to the village on foot.

  The sound of something behind her made her hair stand up.

  “Who is that? Don’t mess around with me, or I’ll burn your ass!” she yelled.

  Maeve rushed over to her. “Orla! Thank god it’s you. It’s so dark, I couldn’t tell. I’ve been following the trail of a dark magic creature all evening and lost their trail . . .”

  Orla made a small fireball and lit up a small tree branch on the ground nearby. The light stopped Maeve. “Bradan! What happened to him?”

  “Got attacked. Possibly by the same creature you’ve been following.”

  “Put him down. Let me see.”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “Can you make more fire?”

  Orla nodded and made the fire larger so Maeve could see. She opened the front of Bradan’s shirt and looked at the wound. “It’s not the blood loss that’s killing him, it’s the poison. That creature—whatever it was—sent poison into his blood.”

  Chapter 16

  Orla could see that the blood streaming from Bradan’s chest had turned black. Maeve took a small bottle of potion she had in her little bag and tipped it into his mouth.

  “Will it cure him?”

  Maeve shook her head. “It helps ease the pain. But no, it won’t save him.”

  “So what will?”

  “There’s a sacred black magic potion in the temple of the clan. That would definitely help, but they won’t give it to anyone. But ask Uncle Daly—he’ll find a way to save his son.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but he’s behind you. He was torn into pieces by that thing.”

  “Oh God . . .”

  “Who made the potion, and what is it?”

  “I think Aunt Anna made it. They’re very secretive about it. It’s for the next leader of the clan.”

  “So if they want me to lead the clan, will I have access to the potion?”

  “Yes, but you have to swear in.”

  Orla narrowed her eyes. No one knew she hadn’t sworn in with the clan. All the girls who had been groomed for the position of leader had sworn in on their first magic lesson. It was a sacred promise between the individuals and their god. But she hadn’t sworn. That was one of the tricks that had kept her alive until now. All of her conflicting emotions and the fact that she would burst into flame because of them would only work on her if she had sworn in.

  “What are you talking about?” Orla asked Maeve.

  “Come on, you’ve never sworn in with your clan. I know that.”

  Orla lowered her voice. “Nobody knows.”

  “You don’t suspect me, do you?”

  “Nobody knows, Maeve. So what’s your plan? What do you want?” Orla backed away.

  Tears gleamed in Maeve’s eyes. “Come on, don’t do this to me, Orla!”

  “I could kill you, Maeve, you know that!”

  Tears rolled down Maeve’s face. “You can do whatever you want to me. Just go get that potion and save Bradan, please!”

  Orla looked into Maeve’s eyes and mumbled, “You love him, don’t you? Does he know that?”

  “He’s running out of time, Orla, please!”

  Orla waved her arms in frustration. “Swearing in . . . that means I have to give up my life—and Lorcan—and stay here forever. How can you be that selfish, Maeve?”

  “You can kill me if you want to. I don’t care. I’ve had enough of this place. If you had sworn in, the black magic at the cemetery could have killed you. I knew back then that you hadn’t done it. I am selfish. If you take the leadership, then Bradan doesn’t have to, and then we will have a chance . . .”

  “You would trade my life just for a chance with him?”

  Maeve shook her head. “You are the rightful leader. You’ll have to take that leadership sooner or later, Orla. I don’t stand a chance with Bradan, even if he doesn’t take the leadership. But I love him. So there, I said it. Do whatever you want.”

  “You fool! You could have told me,” Orla mumbled. “Now you stay here. I’ll go get the potion.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. But you owe me one.”

  Maeve nodded through tears.

  The temple was as mysterious as she remembered it. Orla ducked low behind a stone wall and peeked inside from a distance. She remembered the layout of the temple but still couldn’t made an educated guess about where about the potion might be. Her ex-profession as a thief might come in quite handy. She wanted the potion, but she had no intention of swearing anything to the clan.

  There was no one around.

  Very confident, Orla thought. They thought their magic and spells would protect the temple from thieves, which was probably true. But she was no ordinary thief. She entered the temple. Statues of her gods, ancestral remains, and numerous magical items were placed neatly on the altar. A large picture of a half moon, the symbol of her black magic sorcery clan, was located prominently. They didn’t worship the moon, but
their gods fed from its negative energy. Half-moon symbols were everywhere in the temple. Orla shook her head and chuckled to herself. Her clan was one third religion, one third magic, and one third emotion. While many magical branches relied on the harmony of the universe—the Ying and Yang and the composite of peaceful elements—what had possessed her ancestors to choose one that was destructive and unnatural? Why had they chosen to forbid love?

  She looked around and couldn’t see any potion jar or bottle.

  Magic lock, she speculated. “Want me to swear in, I will,” she said aloud, looking up at her god. She kneeled in front of the altar and stated her oath. It was a life and death statement, a giving-her-soul-to-the-devil kind of swear, and it ought to work, she thought. When Orla opened her eyes and looked up again, a small white bottle of potion was staring down at her from atop the altar.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and grabbed it. She turned, a quirk at a corner of her mouth appearing, but she quickly squelched it before her ancestors or any mind reader could catch it and strode out of the temple.

  She rushed back to the woods. Bradan must have gotten worse as Maeve looked like a mess and was cradling him in her arms. Orla thrust the bottle into Maeve’s hand.

  “Are you sure it will fix him?” she asked.

  Maeve said nothing and flipped the lid open. She nudged his lips open and carefully tipped the contents in. Bradan was white as a sheet. Orla thought he must have died ten times over. But in a short moment, in front of their eyes, he seemed to resume normal breathing.

  Maeve laughed as she teared up. “It worked! Oh my god, it worked.”

  “I can see that, Maeve. Do you want him to know that you begged for his life?”

  “What? No!”

  “So put him down.”

  “Oh. Right.” Maeve lay Bradan down on the grass. He opened his eyes groggily.