by Bella Devine
I took a step back. "Are you done yet?"
Aylin continued her approach with her hand out in front of her as if she neared a wild dog.
I can almost hear her saying, "Shhh... I'm here to help."
"Oh, hon, I want details." She glanced at the glowing imprint and smiled. "Lots and lots of details." Her playful rambunctious nature erupted.
I flushed and slapped her outstretched hand, halting her progress. "I don't want to discuss this right now. I want to go to my apartment."
I wanted to train in my apartment, with my materials. I was sure I had some crystals that would help my clarity.
"We definitely need to train. I can almost see your power boiling out of control." Her smile faded. Her face became grim. "Seriously, you need to learn to control the power. It's like you're on a high and if you can't control it, you're going to spiral."
"I know. I can feel it." I wasn't ashamed to admit I needed help, but I also needed to get away from all this testosterone. Something I'm unable to do with Liam around. He's a walking-talking distraction. "But I need to practice in my own home. With my own supplies. Where I can think."
"The boss won't like this, but I'm game. I can use a road trip." Aylin tilted her head and shifted her weight from foot to foot like a boxer preparing for a fight.
I wasn't sure if the fight would be with me, Liam, or the rebels.
She sauntered into the kitchen until Connor entered. Then she stumbled. She honest to God tripped. Over a man. And fell into his arms.
The room sizzled. Sparks flew. She fought her attraction to him. He tried to hide his feelings for her. It was perfect.
"O'Neill," Aylin spat out as Connor wrapped his arms around her, preventing her fall.
"Callaghan," he responded.
I smiled.
Aylin righted herself and shoved him out of her way. "If you don't mind, Bryn and I have things to do."
"Such as?" he asked.
"To train, of course," I said, not indicating where I wanted to train. "Now, if you two will quit holding hands, we need to get busy."
Connor laughed, but Aylin's cheeks flushed deep red. Almost as dark as her hair.
"That isn't funny!" She stomped out the kitchen door, toward the vehicles.
I followed, laughing because she had dogged me about Liam and now, I knew how to get back at her.
Ignoring me, she jumped into a large black truck. The windows were tinted, the tires were huge, and the suspension wasn't anything to mess around with. I struggled to climb into the beast and was half tempted to ask where the step ladder was, but didn't think she would find that funny either.
"'Bout time." Aylin grinned and started the engine. The truck purred and then roared.
We flew down the wooded trail to home. I couldn't stop my smile at our easy banter. Turning down the AC/DC song, I said, "So, tell me about the Elders."
She tapped the steering wheel for a few minutes. "Most of them survived the massacres in their own time. They oversee our kind and enforce rules. But they live on their own plane. I guess they're similar to your guardian angels. They aren't permitted to walk the Earth unless it's for their mission."
"If they're like angels, why didn't they stop the massacres?"
"Because they can't intervene in fate. Everything must happen as it will. They can guide and instruct, but they can never interfere. Everyone's choices are their own."
"Do all magical creatures have access to the Elders?"
"No, only those they deem worthy have access to them and their guidance. Those few people are their delivery persons, if you must label it. They help to seek solutions and guidance when needed and then that person relays it back to their people."
"So, they're tyrants."
"No, they're cautious."
"And you have a direct line to them. Is it because you are a shape-shifter or a witch?"
Aylin chuckled. Her eyes sparked with mischief. "You pieced that together, did you? I try to hide it so well." Her tone became serious. "It's both. Before the imprints, our kinds couldn't mix. Shape-shifters, witches, goblins, etc. all had to stick to their own kinds. Then there was a change. A power surge. And we were no longer defined by our magic. We could mix with other magical beings. Some believe a chromosome mutation made that possible. But it was more. Then there were babies, like me, who possessed the best of both worlds. Others took notice. The rebels formed and tried to wash us out. They consider us abominations."
My hand sank to my stomach. "So, if Liam and I have a baby, it won't be accepted in this world. It will be an abomination? That doesn't seem fair."
"The rebels were scared and wanted to weaken our lines. So, they killed anyone imprinted. Fortunately for me, I hid my magical powers until Liam pulled me and Drew from our burning house. The rebels killed our mother first. They made our dad watch as they cut her throat. Then they killed him before moving through our village, torching the houses. Drew and I hid in a closet, and the rebels were too fixated on my parents' imprints to notice the toys littering the living room floor. Either that or they just didn't care. Either way, I owe my life to Liam."
My eyes watered. Aylin's cool recollection of her parents' murders and Liam's rescue left me speechless.
Luckily, she didn't expect any response because she added, "Liam was fourteen and trying to lead the pack his way. His father, who was alpha, had been killed and the pack fell to pieces. Liam was trying to rebuild." She swallowed hard. "Anyhow, after that, I needed to do something. Be something. So, I started to train. At first, it was physical training. I needed to prove my place in the pack. Then little things started to happen. I read a thought here, controlled a behavior there. And then it was like my magic just clicked into place. Liam got me involved with Uriel, who helped refine my powers."
Uriel. I knew that name from somewhere. "Who is Uriel?"
"One of the seven Elders."
"Do I need to go to the Elders?"
"They will find you when the time comes." Aylin turned up the music, a sure sign that our conversation was over.
She turned left onto Route 19, according to the highway sign. Although this road actually had a middle yellow line, it was just as secluded as the dirt road we just came from.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had a deep guttural feeling that something wasn't right. "How long will it take to get to my apartment?"
"About an hour." Aylin's eyes were fixed on the road. Her fingers tight on the steering wheel. Did she feel it to?
A tall man in a blue silk robe appeared in my thoughts. An angelic glimmer surrounded him, causing his flowing white hair to look almost translucent. Uriel.
Son of a bitch!
I knew this man. The bastard who refused to help my mother. The memory sprang from the locked box in the deepest part of my brain.
***
The one-bedroom trailer my mother and I lived in wasn't much, but it was home to the beautiful white witch. An honored professional in her coven. A coven that I despised even at the age of ten.
"I love you to the moon and back, pumpkin." Mother pulled the covers up over my shoulders and tucked me in. Just the way I liked.
It was comforting. Especially on another bad day. The kids of the coven were always mean, but especially today. They had called me horrible names on the bus and in school, and then they stole my book bag. The teachers laughed and gave me a zero on the stolen assignments.
Even so, I tried to be strong for my mother, who cried at night, and it broke my heart. She doesn't need my problems on top of her own.
I lay in bed for a long time. When my mother didn't come to bed, I snuck out to the living room.
It was filled with stones meticulously placed in a circle. In the middle of the circle my mother, in a flowing white gown, knelt before a tall, white candle and called for Uriel — a name I didn't know.
The wind howled and circled the room, following the path of the stones. My mother's beautiful, long, dark hair swirled around her face. The light
of the candles flickered and sparked high. The odor of wax and melted candles burnt my nose. I also smelled sage and vanilla. An odd combination for a spell.
I huddled behind our old couch to get a closer look. Mother was too involved in her spell to notice.
The wind stopped. The flames returned to normal. Standing before my mother was the most angelic man I had ever seen. His long, arctic blue robe flowed down his tall frame. His white beard and hair shone in the glow of the candles.
"Cassiel." His voice resonated through the air like chimes whispering in the wind. Or so I thought at first.
"Uriel." Mother still knelt, but bowed her head. "I seek your help and your guidance. I have seen destruction and power. I fear that evil is before us."
"You've always had the vision, Cassiel." He widened his hands, palms out. "We aren't permitted to intervene. You have choices to make about your future and your child's. You made the choices that have led us here. To this place. To this point in time. The choices have always been yours."
"So, I'm to blame?" Mother's voice rose in anger. When she raised her head defiantly, I wanted to reach for her, to soothe her worry. "I didn't choose this path. I want my child and me to be safe. Can you help us?"
"I am not permitted to intervene in what may come. I can only guide as I have done. You know this." He lowered his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest.
"I know. You think I don't?" She raised her voice, then looked back toward the hallway.
I ducked behind the couch.
More composed now, my mother said, "I need to make sure Bryn is safe. Above all else, she needs to stay safe. She will save us all one day and you know this, Uriel."
"No fate is guaranteed. Everything is impacted by choice. The choice to be free. The choice to love. The choice to be who we are. You had that choice not too long ago. You could be sitting at the Table of Seven with me. You chose not to leave this world. You chose to fall in love and have a child. And that choice has brought you here."
"Will you at least guarantee Bryn's safety? You've resources to help guide her!" Tears flowed down her face. " If Bryn dies, my life will be for nothing. Nothing!" Mother was on the verge of a complete breakdown. Her hands shook. Her voice was soft one moment and frantic the next. She was terrified. For us. For our safety. But why? Who would dare fight the most peaceful of the coven?
At ten, I recognized the fear and knew our lives would never be normal. Something would change us both. I shivered at the realization that I was a target and my mother was in the crosshairs.
Uriel just stared. "I can't guarantee you a thing, Cassiel. You're not bound by the protection of the Elders anymore." He pointed at her. "With that being said, I know someone who may be willing to keep an eye on Bryn if things go awry."
"What if I rejoin the Elders? Then we will both be safe."
"You can't take a child to the Table of Seven. You know this."
"Fine. I'll stay here, but when the time comes, Bryn will be safe?"
"I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do. Take care, Cassiel."
The flame of each candle died out, and Uriel was gone. A cold, sinking feeling ran down my spine. We were staying in the coven despite the danger that was upon us. Despite my mother's begging and pleading. Why? What was so important that we had to stay?
I crawled back into bed and fell fast asleep. Exhausted.
The next morning, I woke up and contemplated the craziest dream I'd ever had.
Five years later, I came back to the same trailer after another crappy day of school.
Only this time, my mother didn't greet me. She didn't say, "Hi, honey. How was your day?"
No, the door was open wide and the stench of blood brought me to my knees. The inside of the trailer was covered in it. And the knife.... I shuddered.
***
"Bryn! Bryn!"
The shout pulled me from the memory.
"Jesus Christ! You zoned out on me again. I can't take another transporting attack right now!" Aylin turned right and an old familiar sign welcomed us to Fitzgerald.
Home.
A beat-up Chevy truck came barreling down the road.
The crunch of metal against metal was deafening.
Chapter Eleven
Liam
"Hey, watch it!" Connor shouted.
I straightened the wheel and continued toward Fitzgerald — a small town with a bakery and lots of nosy people. Like Mitch. I scowled. I had recognized those golden eyes as I pulled Bryn back to my bedroom earlier. The exact same eyes from the bakery and the lion in the woods. Mitch was a shifter.
"Do you think Mitch is involved with the rebels?" I asked. It was just the two of us on the hunt for answers.
"I guess we'll find out soon enough. Stop here and turn left," Connor instructed from the passenger seat. "There's a shortcut so we should beat the women to Fitzgerald and ease your mind. But it's a little bumpy. Right up here, turn left again."
My skin tingled. I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck.
"That I can handle." I turned the Hummer onto the dirt trail without slowing. Sweat dripped from my pores. I turned up the AC despite the chilly morning breeze.
Something was in the air. I rubbed my clammy hands against the steering wheel trying to maintain my grip. The speedometer continued to climb while my heart began to sink. Something was wrong. My soul felt empty. My bones ached.
Bryn, is everything okay?
No response.
I tried to swallow my fear like a dose of bad medicine.
Before she had left the house, I felt her confusion, her lust, her power. But she was stubborn. She wanted to go to her place. Her comfort zone. I could have commanded her to stay.
I forced a chuckled. I could hear her say, "Stay? I'm not a puppy, Liam. I'm not yours to boss around." And because she was right, I let her go.
She trusted her small circle of friends in Fitzgerald: Nadia and Mitch. But I didn't. I understood the danger, yet I hadn't stopped her. I shook my head. I was going to have to sort this relationship stuff with Bryn before we killed each other.
Fifteen minutes since the women had left. I tried to connect with Bryn again, but received nothing in return. No thoughts, no impressions, nothing.
I glanced at the imprint. Why wasn't the stupid thing working?
The urge to see Bryn had my chest hitching. Damn! I pushed my foot down on the accelerator. Why didn't I have Drew follow us? My body was so tense I was surprised I didn't snap in two like a stretched rubber band.
Connor grabbed the "Oh Shit" bar as I hit another pot hole. "Man, you're going to have to slow down and turn at the next right."
My jaw tightened. I need to get to Fitzgerald. Now!"How much farther?"
"Ten minutes."
***
Bryn
An acrid smell burned my nose. Cautiously, I opened my eyes.
Accident. Truck heading right for us.
"Aylin." My voice came out hoarse, rather than the shout I had intended. I blinked to clear my vision and placed a shaky hand to my throbbing head. The world spun and then righted itself. I took a deep calming breath. My mind began to clear, the haze of confusion faded.
I remembered the truck, but not the collision. My body ached. A piercing pain traveled from my face to my toes. I wiggled my fingers and moved my feet. Good, nothing seems broken. I was sore, but okay.
"Aylin," I called again.
No response.
"Oh, God!"
Blood coated the inside of the truck. Flashes of death swam through my mind, robbing me of breath. I gasped. My heart thumped through the deafening silence. I swallowed bile.
"Aylin." My voice was distant, as if someone else was speaking through a wall.
Aylin was slumped over the steering wheel. She had a large gash on her forehead. Blood dripped from several open wounds. I gently shook her. No response.
With a shaky hand, I grabbed Aylin's wrist. No pulse.
Liam, we need help! I prayed.
I moved closer to the thumb side of Aylin's wrist, pressed harder, and held my breath.
Finally! A thready pulse. I sighed in relief. Glass crunched as if someone stomped across a sea of it.