by Freya Black
Sloane and Quinn waited for Declan, Kate, and I outside of the wrought iron gates of the Coven House. Declan opened the trunk of his car with a snicker. Packed to the brim with boxes of blankets, pillows, and suitcases bursting with clothes, it looked like we were planning for the apocalypse. The Inner Circle had decided that moving into our Coven House until we could defeat the Hexenjagers was our best chance of survival. I wasn’t so sure, considering my vision the night before.
Quinn hovered over the trunk and laughed. “I see you ladies packed light.”
“Oh, that.” I pointed at the menagerie of junk. “We just grabbed a few necessities.”
Kate and I chuckled and tossed a bag over our shoulders. On our way through the gates, we had to step over the line of black salt that ran along the perimeter to keep its Protection spell intact.
“Man, we’ve got more salt around Arcadia than Home Depot does during a snowstorm,” Declan said, laughing.
“Salt does what you tell it to do,” I said, looking at Kate, with the thought of our many lessons fresh in my mind.
Used for protection, the salt combined with the correct spell could drive away evil and absorb negative energy. With Bastian and his cohorts in hiding, renewing our Protection spell seemed pointless.
We lugged our bags through the cemetery and down the dim hallway. I stopped at the iron railing at the end of the circular hall and peeked over it to get a view of the ground floor below. The domed ceiling above us provided a small amount of light that filtered through stained glass panels. The wrought iron rail wrapped around twelve identical mahogany doors. The thirteenth room was at the top of the staircase across from where I was standing. Since my mother’s death, the bedroom had remained untouched.
Sloane took my bags and walked alongside me around the corridor. I hesitated for a second, dreading what remnant of my mother’s secretive past I would find. When I turned the handle, the door refused to open.
“It’s broken!” I yelled across the hall to Kate.
She shook her head. “It’s not broken. You need to use your powers to open it. Your mother spelled it.”
“Of course she did,” I deadpanned.
With my hand on the doorknob, I channeled my energy. I sensed the warmth of my birthmark. Then, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Dust fell into my eyes as I stepped into the room. It was larger than I had imagined, similar in size to that of a master bedroom suite. At the far wall, next to a four-poster bed and nightstand, was another mahogany door. Purple-and-gold fabric crisscrossed along the canopy top and flowed down the sides onto matching bedding.
I dashed across the room and sat at the bench in front of a dressing table. A mirrored disk contained glass bottles of perfume and body lotion. My last childhood memory before drifting off to sleep was the aroma of green apples. I sprayed my wrist with my mother’s perfume and rubbed it into my neck. Then, I opened the drawer and sifted through cosmetic brushes, a makeup palette, cotton swabs, and various beauty supplies.
Underneath the clutter, I found a purple silk bag. It contained a silver skeleton key with rigid edges, shaped into a crescent moon at the top, same as the one Kate used to open the Catacombs. I shoved the key into my pocket and strolled over to a tall wooden chest topped with picture frames. My mother had a collection of baby pictures I’d never seen before, like one where Declan and I were on a swing set in my backyard.
Next to a photo of me blowing out birthday candles was my favorite picture, the one I kept on my nightstand at home. My father was carrying me on his back, my arms wrapped around his neck. It was the last picture we had taken at Dakota Pointe.
Toward the back, a small silver frame caught my eye. I handed it to Sloane with a smile. We looked the same in the picture as we did in my visions.
Among various family photos was a group shot of the Coven. My mother couldn’t have been much older than me. Grandma was still alive. As I stared at the picture, my stomach churned at the thought of history repeating itself. Of the thirteen people in the picture, only six of them were alive. I had to find a way to defeat the Hexenjagers, or the same fate would belong to my generation.
Walls of bookshelves crammed with hundreds of canvas books contained various titles of interest—History of Arcadia, Potions, Sensory Magic, Natural Magic, Elemental Magic, Malum, Alchemy, and Cleary. My eyes instantly fixated on the book bearing our family name, bound in distressed leather with a gold clasp wrapped around its center.
I removed the book from the shelf and curled up next to Sloane on the bed. The power of my aura warmed my palm. Worn yellowed parchment paper sketched with Celtic symbols flew open. Handwritten in brown ink, the book contained spells to exchange a witch’s power, to speed up and slow down time, among others. At the end of the book, I noticed a page with a key drawn in the center.
I extracted the key from the pouch and held it up to the drawing. It was an exact match. “Help me figure out what this opens,” I said, sliding off the bed.
Sloane was standing next to me before I could sort through the bookshelves. “What is it?”
“In my visions, my mom said that I was the key…but what if she meant an actual key? Look for anything with a lock.”
We tore through books covered in thick layers of dust and wooden boxes with holes too small to fit a key. Searching for anything with a keyhole, I started opening drawers that were stuffed with apothecary jars of dried herbs, black and white salt, pillar candles, and various metal objects. I had to pull out the contents to get a better view. Trying not to focus too long on anything without a lock, I moved around the miscellaneous items, desperate to find something that would fit the key.
I pointed to the mahogany door on the back wall. “Check the door.”
Sloane pushed it open, revealing a toilet, sink, and shower. I felt deflated as I looked through the doorway. It had the only lock large enough to fit the key, and it was a bathroom.
Sloane dropped to the floor and flattened out onto his stomach as he lifted the dust ruffle. He felt under the bed for a few minutes and jumped to his feet. “I’ve got nothing.”
“This thing is useless.” I threw the key onto the gold comforter, and as it left my fingertips, my right palm started to burn. “Ow!”
I tried to shake the pain away, but when I looked down, an electric-green glow outlined my Crescent birthmark. It was the Green Energy associated with Glamour Magic, which shocked me. Only Fey were capable of such enchantments. Of course, the dark Fey used Glamours for other things, like killing people and siphoning powers, but the light Fey, like the Queen, used their magic for good.
Sloane’s mouth opened wide. “Babe, look.” He pointed at the bed. “You did it.”
The emerald-green glow surrounding the key extended from the bed to the center of the wall behind the bookshelves. We pushed the shelves out of the way and stared at each other in awe. A green outline, similar to the pale blue that illuminated the Catacombs, formed the shape of a door along the sandstone wall.
Sloane ran his hand down the wall. “It must be a trap door.”
When I touched the key, its magical energy rushed through me. With the key in one hand and the other pressed against the wall, I could hear and feel the wall shifting as I channeled my energy. Slabs of stone parted to the sides, and a gold door emerged between the severed pieces. Rounded at the top and made of individual solid gold tiles, it was so bright that my eyes burned.
I held my hand to the crescent moon tile in the center of the door, and it moved beneath my fingers. Once it flipped over, I inserted the key and pulled it out in the same fashion as Kate did when she opened the Catacombs.
The door slid into the left side of the wall and disappeared. An emerald glow lit a room about ten feet by ten feet. Crystals, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires sparkled in the mirrored walls. Along the back wall, a wand about three feet long, made of white oak, stole my attention. Intricate markings carved into the wood appeared to be small geomantic symbols.
I pointed
at the wand. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Sloane lifted the object from the shelf, carefully studying it. “No, but it’s pretty cool.”
I took the wand from his hand, its energy and the power of my visions instantly pulling me under.
Standing in the dark forest, my mother held the wand in front of her.
“Via, puella, caput draconis, aquisitio,” she said.
The wand drew four geomantic symbols in the air. She lowered it to her side, watching as the shapes fused together, swirling into a mist of green. When it stopped, a large film shimmered in the moonlight. My mother stepped through it. The mist stirred again and then evaporated as the portal closed behind her.
I stared at Sloane, juggling the white oak in my hand. “So, this is a Scipio wand.”
Sloane nodded his head. “The Council will kill us for possession of a Sacred Token. We need to get rid of this.”
“What the hell was my mom thinking? The Imperium Council had to know this was missing. There are only a few of them in existence.”
My mother’s blatant disrespect for the Council confused me. Each day, my parents’ deaths seemed less like an accident and more like a cover-up.
“The Galdrar is over there.” Sloane pointed to the golden prison the size of a jewelry box that shone brighter than the tiles.
He was right about one thing. The Council would kill us to retrieve the magical items. My mother had signed all of our death warrants by withholding Sacred Tokens from them. I clasped the wand in my hand and prayed that we would make it out of this alive.
Chapter 21
I sensed the energy of the Druden through the Galdrar. Instead of volts of electricity, it was like holding my hand over a flame. No larger than a jewelry box, the gold object engraved with runic sigils contained the souls of supernatural warriors. As I gazed into Sloane’s eyes, the power of my aura washed over me, pulling me into a trance.
A sliver of moonlight peeked through the canopy of the Luna Crescent Cemetery. Rain poured down in buckets. With my father at her side, my mother sloshed through the mud with the Galdrar tucked under her arm. They ran into the Coven House and slammed my mother’s bedroom door shut. She extracted the key from the purple pouch and closed her eyes. Green Energy illuminated a pathway from the key to the wall of the secret room.
Once inside, my mother set the Scipio wand and Galdrar on a shelf at the back wall.
“No one can know about this,” my mother said. “You have to understand, this is the only way to protect Fiona.”
My father stared down at the magical objects and sighed. Sandy-blond hair stuck to his forehead as he looked at her. “I know. I just don’t—”
She pushed her hand out. “Preston! Please don’t do this. I don’t like it either, but this is for our daughter. They left us with no choice.”
He pulled my mother into his arms and whispered into her ear, “It must be done.”
For a few minutes, I found it difficult to speak. The mystery surrounding my parents’ deaths, the stolen objects, and a magical room were too much for me to bear.
Sloane stroked his fingers down my back. “There has to be a reason for what they did. We’ll figure it out.”
I could see the doubt in his eyes. “Yeah, but now, we have Sacred Tokens that could get everyone killed. I can’t let them die for this. Enough people have lost their lives already.”
“The magic of this room…it’s a Glamour.” Sloane scanned the room, moving objects out of the way to inspect the glass. “I’ve seen them in the castle at Krona. Maybe it means something.”
I led Sloane out of the room and placed the wand on the bed. “I need to figure out how to use this thing. Maybe if we can get to Krona, we can solve this mystery.”
“You can’t do this.” Sloane cupped my face in his hands.
A mixture of anger and worry shook through me.
“I have to.” My eyes burned from the tears I desperately tried to suppress. “I don’t expect you to understand. But my family’s curse is something I have to face alone. I can’t let the Council hurt the people I love because of something my parents did.”
Sloane pressed his lips to my forehead and sighed. “I just got you back. I can’t lose you again.”
At that moment, when I looked into his steel-blue eyes that held more pain than a hundred lifetimes, I knew I was in love with him and not just because I remembered our past. I was cursed, and he knew it, but he wouldn’t give up. He didn’t need to speak the words for me to know the feelings were mutual. I felt it in his aura.
“I have to do this—not just for my parents, but also for our Coven…and this town.”
A crooked smile stretched across Sloane’s lips. “I’m in.”
There was no point in debating with him. He’d made up his mind, and convincing him otherwise would only lead to more wasted time.
We flipped through the pages of my mother’s latest grimoire. The scent of mildew and years of dust branded my nostrils as I turned the tattered parchment paper. Midway through, we found several dog-eared pages. They bore the same geomantic symbols my mother had drawn in my vision when I touched the Scipio wand.
A picture of the wand, used to open freestanding portals, was at the top of the first page. Beneath the realms of Krona, Tartara, and Castra were the words porta and exitus. Written in perfect cursive, belonging to someone other than my mother, were the names of cities with gateway portals in the human realm—Arcadia, Dublin, Tokyo, Sydney, Koblenz, New Orleans, Naples, Cairo, and Buenos Aires.
I was surprised to see how few remained. “I thought the portals in Dublin had been destroyed.”
Sloane nodded. “They were. So were all of the Rhineland portals in Koblenz, Germany. Hexenjagers took them over years ago. One time, Queen Moira showed us a map of the human realm. There were close to fifty cities around the world with gateway portals.”
I frowned at the page. “So, that’s why there are seven magistrates for the human realm—one for each of the remaining cities.”
Sloane ran his fingers over the faded brown ink. “In Latin, porta means gateway, and exitus is, well, you know, exit. I think porta is the way into each realm, and exitus is the way out. What do you think?”
I lifted the book, carefully studying the page. “Or porta could mean opening the portal, and exitus is the way of closing it.”
“True, but if that’s the case, then how do you get back?”
I slid the book between us and pointed to the Krona symbols with my index finger. “Say you wanted to go to Krona, you would need to use the porta incantation to open the portal and exitus to close it from inside of Krona. To tether back, you would use the incantations for Arcadia.”
Sloane wrapped his arms around my stomach, and I fell backward into his chest. He leaned against the headboard, cradling my head. “I think it’s time to take a break.”
My mind slowly drifted into a dream state when a sudden burst of energy awoke me. Sleep was impossible. The visions, nightmares, and the intensity of my powers made sure of that.
I rolled onto my side and opened the grimoire. We sifted through the pages, commenting on different spells.
What is the point of hidden rooms and spell books if there’s no purpose?
I remembered the desperation in my mother’s voice when she’d told my father they had no choice. And I needed to believe that was the truth.
“Wait!” Sloane grabbed ahold of my wrist. “I think I’ve found something.” He pointed to an upside-down pentagram drawn inside of a circle—the mark of a Hexenjager.
On the next page, scribbled in my mother’s handwriting, were what appeared to be journal entries, the first one written eight months before her death.
September 10, 2006
Today was my first lesson with Erilaz, Rune Master of Krona. I learned to decipher the runic alphabet used by the Fey. If my visions are correct, Hexenjagers will arrive on Samhain.
September 25, 2006
My second les
son with Erilaz was a success. In addition to the runic alphabet, I learned Old Norse, the native language spoken by the dark Fey. The words are harder to pronounce than Latin, but a few more sessions, and I should know enough to use the Talisman of Grimnir.
October 7, 2006
Today, I learned the incantation that will trap the Druden inside the Galdrar. The Veneficum spell is too powerful to use alone and will require help from the Coven. If we’re lucky enough to survive the dark magic, we can defeat the dark Fey.
“Is that it?” I thumbed through the pages. “That was the last entry.” I showed Sloane the empty parchment paper and threw the book on the bed in disgust.
Sloane shook his head. “I wonder if she ever learned how to use the Talisman.”
“I guess we’ll never find out.” I was so irritated that I wanted to punch the wall. Like all of my mother’s clues, it’d left me with more questions than answers.
“We could ask Erilaz,” Sloane suggested.
I sensed a bit of trepidation in his voice.
“I know him. We could use the Scipio wand to go to Krona. The incantations are right here in your grimoire.”
He was serious, which surprised me.
I bit the corner of my lip and stared at the secret room, waiting for a sign to jump out and hit me in the face. I wished it would because unauthorized tethering had serious consequences.
“You can’t risk your life for me. I’m cursed. It’s not worth it. You should run while you still can.” It pained me to say it aloud, but it was true.
“The Council doesn’t know we have a Scipio wand. We can go back to where I came through the portal. No one will see us out there.”
“It’s too risky. I can’t let you do this.” I tried to hide the panic in my voice but failed. I was so transparent that Sloane saw right through me.
He clutched my hand, a determined look in his eyes. “You don’t understand.” With his finger, he lifted the gold necklace around my neck. The copper ring braided into Celtic knots dangled in front of me. “I made a promise a long time ago that we would we be together forever. I already broke it once when we left during the Glamour War, and I don’t plan on breaking it again. I would do anything to protect you even if it’s from yourself. And you need me…the prophecy says so.”