by P. C. Cast
Amazed, I watched several of the Raven Mockers turn their heads, as if they were unable to face my grandma. In others the red glow began to die in their eyes, and I recognized sorrow and confusion in their human depths.
“Be silent, Ani Yunwiya!” Kalona’s voice boomed around us.
I knew Grandma recognized the ancient name of the Cherokee people. Slowly, she turned her attention to the winged being. “I see you, Old One. Will you never learn? Must women, once again, come together to defeat you?”
“Not this time, Ghigua. You will not find me so easy to trap this time.”
“Perhaps this time we will simply wait for you to trap yourself. We are a very patient people, and you did it before,” Grandma said.
“But this A-ya is different,” Kalona said. “Her soul calls to me from her dreams. It won’t be long before her waking body calls me, too, and then I shall possess her.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Thinking you can possess me, like I’m a piece of property, is your first mistake. My soul is drawn to you,” I finally admitted aloud, and found a surprising strength in my honesty. “But like you said, I’m a different A-ya. I have free will, and my will is not to give myself to the darkness. So, here’s the deal: Leave now. Take Neferet and the Raven Mockers and go someplace far away where you can live in peace and not hurt anyone else.”
“Or?” he asked, looking amused.
“Or I will, as my human consort put it, kick your butt out of here,” I said firmly.
His look of amusement widened into a charming smile. “A-ya, I do not believe I will leave this place. I find I like Tulsa very much.”
“Remember that you brought this on yourself,” I said. Then I spoke to the women surrounding me. “The poem says: Joined not to conquer, instead to overcome. I’m Night. I’ve led you to Sister Mary Angela—she’s Spirit.” I held out my left hand and Sister Mary Angela grasped it firmly. “Stevie Rae, you’re Blood. Aphrodite, you’re Humanity.”
Stevie Rae walked over to Sister Mary Angela, and took the nun’s other hand, and then she looked at Aphrodite, who nodded and grasped her offered hand.
“What are they doing?” Neferet’s voice came from closer than she was before. I looked up to see that she was moving quickly toward us.
“A-ya! What foolishness is this?” Kalona didn’t sound amused anymore, and he, too, was approaching our circle.
“And Earth completes.” I held my hand out to Grandma.
“Do not let the Ghigua join them!” Kalona cried.
“Stark! Kill her,” Neferet commanded.
“Not A-ya!” Kalona shouted. “Kill the old Ghigua.”
I held my breath and met Stark’s eyes as Neferet said, “Kill Zoey. No mistakes this time. Aim for her heart!” As she spoke, darkness slithered from the shadows around her. Stretching over to Stark, I watched them wrap around his ankles and begin to move up his body. I saw clearly the struggle that was going on within Stark. Neferet’s dark power could still affect him. My stomach clenched. Was his Warrior’s Oath to me enough to break that hold? I wanted to trust him. I’d decided to trust him. Had that been a stupid mistake?
“No!” Kalona roared. “Do not kill her!”
“I will not share you!” Neferet cried. Her hair was whipping around her, and she seemed to grow bigger as I watched. I had been right to believe she was no longer what she once had been, not in body and not in soul. She whirled from Kalona to Stark. “By the power with which I awakened you, I command you hit the mark. Shoot Zoey through her heart!”
I was staring at Stark, trying to will him to choose good—to keep choosing good and to turn from Neferet’s cloying darkness, so I saw the exact moment he understood his way out. As if he and I were back in the little room off the field house again, I heard myself saying to him, You have my heart…And his response: Then both of us better stay safe. A heart’s a hard thing to live without…
“That’s what my aim won’t miss.” Stark spoke across the icy distance to me as if he and I were alone. “The part of my lady’s heart I hold as my own.” The shadows that had gripped his body were instantly washed from him as he made his decision.
And with a rush of panic I understood what he was going to do.
Aiming straight at me, he drew the bow and shot.
As he let loose the arrow, I cried, “Air, fire, water, earth, spirit! Hear me! Do not let that arrow touch him!” I flung my power out toward Stark, channeling all five of the elements. The arrow did a weird shimmer, and suddenly it was not heading in my direction, but speeding back toward Stark’s heart. It was mere inches from his chest when the elements blasted it, disintegrating it with such force that Stark was thrown back and lay crumpled, but not skewered, on the ground.
“You bitch whelp!” Neferet shrieked. “You’re not going to win this!”
Ignoring her, I held my hand out to Grandma. “And Earth completes,” I repeated.
She took my hand in hers and, joined together, we faced the onrush of Kalona and Neferet.
“Do not curse them.” Sister Mary Angela’s voice was so serene it seemed otherworldly. “He is all too familiar with darkness and anger and curses.”
“A blessing,” Stevie Rae said.
“Yeah, people who are filled with hate don’t know how to handle love,” Aphrodite said, meeting my eyes briefly and smiling.
“Bless him, Grandma. We’ll join you,” I said.
Then my grandma’s strong voice rang out, amplified with the power of spirit and blood, night and earth, all joined through the humanity of love.
“Kalona, my u-do,” she used the Cherokee word for “brother.” “This is my blessing to you.” Grandma began to recite an ancient Cherokee blessing so familiar to me its words were like coming home. “May the warm winds of Heaven blow softly on your home…”
The five of us repeated, “May the warm winds of Heaven blow softly on your home…”
Grandma continued. “And the Great Spirit bless all who enter there…”
This time, as we repeated the blessing, Damien and the Twins recited it with us.
Grandma’s voice stayed strong and steady. “May your moccasins make happy tracks in many snows…”
When our voices rose to repeat Grandma’s words, everyone within the circle had joined us. The blessing even echoed from behind us, and I knew the Benedictine nuns had left their sanctuary to add their prayer to ours.
As Grandma spoke the last line of the poem, her voice was filled with such love and warmth and complete joy, it brought tears to my eyes. “And may the rainbow always touch your shoulder…”
Then over the sound of our voices joined in blessing, I heard Kalona’s agonized cry. He had staggered to a halt only feet away from me. Neferet was at his side, her beautiful face twisted in hatred. He reached one hand out to me.
“Why, A-ya?” he said.
I gazed into his incredible amber eyes and banished him with the truth. “Because I choose love.”
A blinding light, made of the glowing silver thread that bound our circle, whipped from me and wrapped around Kalona and Neferet. I watched as the noose it made began to tighten. I knew the silver thread was not just made of the elements, but was also strengthened by Night and Spirit, Blood and Humanity, and grounded in Earth.
With a terrible cry, Kalona staggered back. Neferet clung to him. The darkness that pulsed from her twitched and writhed as she shrieked in agony. Though he never took his gaze from mine, he wrapped his arms around Neferet, unfurled his mighty, night-colored wings, and leaped into the sky. He hovered there for an instant, as his wings beat against gravity, and then the silver thread reared back, gaining momentum, before it snapped, whiplike, at them, lifting the winged man and the fallen High Priestess up and up until they disappeared into the clouds with the Raven Mockers screaming and following behind.
The instant he disappeared from view, I felt a familiar burning spread across my chest, and I knew next time I looked at myself in the mirror, I would see another Mark of
my Goddess’s favor, though this one would be mixed with scars and deep, heartbreaking pain.
AFTERWARD
None of us said anything for what seemed like a long time. Then, moving automatically, I thanked the elements, closing our circle. Numbly, I helped Grandma back to her wheelchair. Sister Mary Angela began mothering everyone, clucking about how wet and cold and tired we all must be, and herding everyone toward the abbey, where she promised hot chocolate and dry clothes awaited us.
“The horses,” I said.
“Already cared for.” Sister Mary Angela nodded toward two nuns I recognized from my volunteer work at Street Cats as Sister Bianca and Sister Fatima, who were leading the three horses to a little side building that was now a green house but had a heavy stone foundation that made it look like it could once have been a stable.
I nodded, feeling utterly exhausted, and called to Darius. Then, followed closely by him, Erik, and Heath, I walked out to Stark’s still body.
He had crumpled to the ground beside the Hummer and was clearly illuminated by the big vehicle’s lights. The shirt had been burned away from his chest, and there was the bloody brand of a broken arrow over his heart. The wound looked terrible. Not only was it raw and bleeding, it was also bruised, like a hot iron had been punched into him. I steeled myself. I’d seen him die once, I could bear witness to his second death. Drawing a deep breath, I knelt beside him and took his hand. I’d been right. He wasn’t breathing. But as soon as I touched him, he drew a deep breath, coughed, and opened his eyes as he grimaced with pain.
“Hey,” I said softly, smiling through my tears and silently thanking Nyx for this miracle. “Are you really okay?”
He looked down at his chest. “Weird burn, but besides feeling like I’ve been run over by five elements, I think I’m fine.”
“You scared me,” I said.
“I scared myself,” he said.
“Warrior, when you pledge yourself to the service of a High Priestess, the goal is not to frighten her to death but to protect your lady from death,” Darius said as he offered Stark his hand.
Stark took it, and stood, slowly and painfully. “Well,” he said with that cocky smile I loved so much, “serving this lady might be cause for a whole new book of rules to be written.”
“You’re telling us?” Erik said.
“Yeah, not something we don’t already know,” Heath said.
“Well, hell,” I said, shaking my head at all of my boys.
“Zoeybird! Look up!” my grandma called to me. I glanced up and drew a deep, wondering breath.
The clouds had completely dissipated, leaving the sky clear to expose a brilliant crescent moon that shone so bright it burned away any lingering confusion and sadness Kalona had planted in my heart.
Sister Mary Angela joined me. She, too, was gazing up, but her face was turned to the statue of Mary, on which the moon had cast a single, beautiful beam of light.
“It isn’t finished with him or with her yet, you know,” she said softly, for my ears alone.
“I know,” I said. “But whatever happens, my Goddess will be with me.”
“As will your friends, child. As will your friends.”
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