by T. L. Martin
We both eyed the rose in her left hand when she paused—me, with a mixture of fear and surprise and her, with a look of deep sadness.
“It happened just months after word about Sula’s secret relationship with a demon had somehow gotten out,” Priscilla explained. “A bold move, whoever thought it up—and one that painted a clear target on both of their backs.”
I didn’t know why, but I found myself looking at Desmond when she said this. He wasn’t watching me anymore, though. Leaning slightly against the wall, his eyes were down and narrowed as though in deep thought. I could see the muscles of his jaw clenching tightly even beneath the shadow cast over him.
“If you haven’t noticed.” Pixie’s voice made me jump slightly as she appeared behind me, watching Sula from the doorframe with equally sad eyes. “There’s a bunch of tension between species in the supernatural realm. Emotions ranging from disrespect to pure hatred for one another. And on the super rare occasion that one species takes the risk in involving themselves with another, it can get...well, very heated. The only possible exception is between witches and humans or demons and vampires. But try mixing the alive with the undead...the undead, of course, being a demon or vampire...”
Her voice faded, and she glanced awkwardly behind her, at the only vampire present: Desmond.
“No offense,” Pixie commented.
He looked up when she addressed him, an unreadable expression on his face. “None taken,” he replied simply.
Priscilla spoke again, providing further explanation. “Far too many still believe that mixing species is enough to kill for. And, though I’m working hard to change that, it takes time.” Her eyes shifted downward, but her mournful expression was apparent all the same.
I quickly thought back to the Unity Gala, and the purpose behind the tea shop. Priscilla’s passion for uniting the various species was suddenly making a lot more sense.
After a moment of silence, Priscilla returned her gaze to me. “Emiliano, the demon, was ambushed and killed almost instantly. And Sula’s fate was met shortly after.”
Matt let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Talk about…” he stopped and shot a glance at Quinn, “fudged up.”
“Right?” Pixie exclaimed.
Quinn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to hear him at all. Her arms were folded around her chest now, eyes all but glued to her feet.
“It is a commonly known fact that only the magic of a Primary could defeat another,” Priscilla said. “If it were any other witch’s magic, Sula would have been able to heal herself. Even so, the person responsible underestimated the dear girl. So many roses would have instantly killed anyone else. It is Sula’s strength as a Primary that saved her. At least she is alive.”
Watching the girl who lay motionless beside me, I wondered if she would feel the same. What kind of life was it, after all, to never be able to partake in it? Not even to witness it, as it only ever passed you by?
Priscilla’s voice picked up again, interrupting my darkening thoughts. “Though the roses were delivered by a male witch who claimed to be following her orders, Tempest maintains she was not involved. That someone else must have bribed the witch for his access in a strategic attack against Sula.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course you wouldn’t believe her,” I muttered bitterly.
Priscilla didn’t respond, and I stared at her incredulously.
“Would you?” I asked.
“Tempest may be guilty of many things, but never has she let them go unclaimed. She yearns for the attention, the reputation. In fact, she thrives from it.”
“So she says she didn’t do it, and that’s that?” I argued, unwilling to let her get off so easily. Priscilla and the others may have been aware of Tempest’s involvement in Ray’s death, thanks to her rose, but they knew nothing of the poem. They didn’t see her message, like I did…how she all but bragged about taking his life. Turning death into sport—a game. Artfully crafting her words just to taunt me. Not only was the woman capable of doing this to Sula, but she was capable of enjoying every minute of it, too. “Maybe she had different motives this time,” I added. “I—I don’t know. But wouldn’t it make sense? She’d be getting rid of her competition.”
I shifted my gaze uncomfortably, realizing what that implied. Priscilla would be her last competitor now. But Priscilla seemed unfazed. Empathetic, even.
“I haven’t dismissed her entirely,” she explained. “At the time of the incident, almost three years ago now, the elders and I made private arrangements to call her forward in our circle. The council had already begun collecting all the evidence of her crimes, her many confessions included. We intended on performing an Ancestral Calling.”
“What’s that?” Matt’s voice piped up, reminding me once again that we were not alone.
I noticed then that Quinn still seemed to be lost in her own bubble, back to fidgeting with her ring. Though Desmond appeared to have returned to the privacy of his own thoughts, too.
“It’s a summoning of our five Primary Ancestors,” Pixie answered calmly. She was resting her hip on the doorframe now. “Calling them from the other side.”
“Like, bringing them back from the dead for a night?” Matt asked. Anyone else might have been spooked by the idea—I knew I was—but not him. He asked the question like it was the coolest thing in the world. He must have noticed the way we were all looking at him now because he glanced down and mumbled, “Sorry…too much of The Walking Dead.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Rick Grimes,” she said with a smirk, and I realized I must have been missing the reference when he smirked back. “But there won’t be any zombies. We don’t even get to see the ancestors during the calling, actually. Just present them with whatever evidence we have of the witch’s wrongdoing, and they determine on the spot whether to strip the witch in question of their powers completely or suspend them for a probationary period.” She looked back at Priscilla hesitantly before adding, “But, um, they say it leaves the witch feeling lost, empty, without their magic. It’s only been done once. Like, centuries ago. And it took less than a week before the man killed himself.”
“Indeed,” Priscilla said gravely. “Though, we never actually revealed this decision of ours to Tempest; she had it figured out before we got the chance. She knew exactly what was at stake.”
“So, what happened?” I asked, about to be literally hanging on the edge of my seat.
“She ran,” Priscilla said plainly. “She ran, and we searched. But she is clever. She knows I would track her through magic, and somehow, she hasn’t given me anything to track. In fact, in all this time, no one has even heard from her until now.”
As she said that, a realization hit me, though I wondered if it was flawed. Otherwise Priscilla probably would have caught it herself. “But..she had to have used magic tonight, right? Can you work off of that?”
Priscilla shook her head solemnly. “I’m afraid not, dear. Her roses were enchanted long before she went into hiding. And any other magic used tonight was not done by her. Not directly, anyway.”
I could have screamed; I was so frustrated. There had to be a way to track her down. Though, I supposed if she was going to be summoning me...maybe I wouldn’t need to. I let out a sigh at the thought, trying to relax. Between my sadness, suppressed grief, irritation, and rage, my emotions were a mess. And, frankly, so was I.
“So...what’s going to happen to Sula?” I asked, looking back at the still girl before us. “Will she get better?”
“I very much wish I had an answer to that,” Priscilla replied, watching the girl along with me now. “I am here daily performing healing rituals on her, but still, she continues to require constant care.”
“What about Pixie?” I asked. “Now that we’ve synced, could she do it? I can try doing it with her, too, if you think it might help.”
Priscilla shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not. Just as it takes the magic of a Primary to inflict another, it, too, tak
es the magic of one to heal another.”
I lowered my gaze, still trying to think of some way to help. There had to be something I could do. What was the point in being the Opal if I couldn’t even help the people who needed it most?
“Unfortunately,” Priscilla continued, “with things the way they are in today’s society, Sula has attracted many enemies—even from our own kind. There are few who can truly be trusted to look after her. I have a dear friend, Susan Smith—also a witch—who happens to be helping me host the Gala, and I was very fortunate when she agreed to move in as Sula’s neighbor to help look after her. But with her newest child still an infant, her assistance is no longer available as often as it used to be.”
“The neighbor?” I repeated, thinking back to the blonde girl picking flowers. “The one with a little girl?”
“Ah, Caroline, yes. She is a sweet child, pure as they come.”
My brows furrowed. Those eyes looked anything but pure. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me.
Priscilla spoke again, “With Sula’s health having taken a sharp turn for the worse over these past few months...well, I’m sure you’ve noticed my frequent absences at the shop.” She paused and looked at Desmond, appreciation in her brown eyes. “I’m overwhelmingly grateful that Desmond does not get caught up in such nonsense and has been generous enough to help care for Sula.”
Desmond acknowledged her with a tilt of his head.
Turning back to me, Priscilla softly added, “Which was why he could not be with you today, Charlie.”
I looked down, recalling my earlier request to her. She must have thought I was ungrateful and stubborn to deny the help of someone she considered to be so trustworthy. But she didn’t know the truth. What he had done the night of the Grants Pass Wildfires. It was heartless, and someone without a heart could not be expected to genuinely care for others. Maybe I was stubborn, but no matter how many other decent deeds he may seem to do, I would never be able to look past the damage of what had already been done. Especially when I didn’t know the motives behind the seemingly good deeds.
“Come,” Priscilla said, setting the rose down before standing and exiting the bedroom. “We will speak out here now.”
Pixie and I followed. The back of my body brushed against something solid when I closed the door, and I turned around to see Desmond still leaning against the wall. We were close enough that I could practically feel his body stiffen. He loomed over me, his eyes darkening somehow, and I felt my heart pound a little harder in my chest.
“So...what happens now?” Pixie asked, yanking my attention back to the living room.
I quickly stepped away, turning to face the others without another glance back. It was then that I spotted Quinn, who’d returned to a quiet state. She was leaning forward in her seat now, chewing on her thumbnail. Whatever had been bothering her the other day seemed to only be worse today.
Priscilla inhaled sharply, centering herself so we could all see her.
“We need to assume Tempest has help. It would explain the reason I haven’t been able to track her all this time—not even tonight, when magic was clearly used. Someone else had a hand in Ray’s death.” I felt a pang hit my stomach at the sudden mention of his name, and I tried to ignore it. “This evening was her announcement, her grand entrance. Which tells me she’s been planning it for some time.”
Those last words struck me. Just how long had Tempest known about me?
Priscilla’s voice continued on, “Now that she’s made her intentions known, she will not hold back. But I do have a plan.” She stopped and looked up at me, and something told me I wasn’t going to like it much. “Exactly six days from now is the next gathering of elders at the lighthouse. It’s a full moon, and one of the few opportunities that will be available to, once and for all, carry out the Ancestral Calling.”
The room went quiet and Priscilla glanced around, gauging everyone’s reactions.
Quinn’s lip curled in disdain. “She deserves a hell of a lot worse than that,” she muttered. “Even if she does resort to suicide after they strip her powers dry…for someone like her, that’d only be getting off easy.”
Priscilla shot Quinn a sharp look. “As Quinn very well knows, I have known Tempest since she was a child, playing with her cousins in the fields of Montana. I have seen the goodness in her, the purity. And I have absolutely no intention of letting Tempest take her own life. However, with this blatant abuse of power, she is far too much of a danger to society and to herself. Unless she has already dipped her own hands into dark magic, there is still a chance to salvage her.”
I tried to imagine the witch who had written that poem, who’d had an innocent human killed for the sake of show, and who’d rendered Sula the vegetable she was today. It wasn’t fathomable that such a woman would be capable of good or of being salvaged.
“That being said,” Priscilla continued, “an Ancestral Calling is not a simple spell. It requires all living Primaries to perform the ritual, and with Sula in such a state—”
“Yeah, well,” Quinn intervened, “something tells me Tempest won’t be the first to jump up and down, either. It’s not like she’s going to volunteer herself to have her powers taken away. There’s no way we can pull that off if it takes all three of you. Is there?”
“Not before, there wasn’t,” Priscilla answered, turning her attention toward me.
“You want to sync yourself with me,” I thought aloud, piecing it all together.
“I’m afraid it’s the only way for this to work.” I could see the reluctance in her eyes. It was never her intention for us to sync.
I took a second to consider her words. She wouldn’t be the worst person to sync with. One of the best, in fact. I already knew she was good-hearted, like Pixie, so it wasn’t like I had to worry about that aspect. Still mulling it over, I wandered to the sofa and took a seat beside Pixie. That’s when Sula sprang back into my mind. If Priscilla and I were to sync, could it make her strong enough to finally heal her?
“So, if we do this...” I mumbled, voicing my thoughts. “You might be able to heal Sula?”
She gave me a small, hopeful smile. “I believe so. Though, the healing will have to wait until Tempest’s powers have been stripped, in case she does turn out to be the one responsible for Sula’s condition. I will not risk putting her in danger like this again.” She paused, looking down briefly, and I could see how even the possibility pained her. But she brushed it off. “We will sync on the evening before the ritual.”
My body relaxed at the thought alone. Not much longer, and Sula would finally get her life back. Finally, someone I could help. Someone Tempest would no longer get the satisfaction of hurting or of having within her grasp.
In spite of this new plan, I couldn’t ignore the nagging part within me begging for more justice for Tempest. Would stripping the witch’s powers truly be enough? She would still be out there, waiting to strike. She was, after all, a cold-blooded killer.
“There’s more,” Priscilla quietly commented.
With narrowed eyes, Desmond’s deep voice sounded from across the room. “You will need to sync with Tempest, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VIOLET EYES
“What?” I asked incredulously. “We’d be giving her exactly what she wants.”
I looked at Quinn, expecting her to side with me on this, but instead she quickly glanced away and remained quiet.
“I’m afraid we have no other options,” Priscilla said. “There are three living Primaries and only one of me. Syncing with you may make up for one of their absences but not both. The other factor is that Tempest will never be willing to do this on her own. But if you sync with her, we can channel her energy through you. That, combined with my extra strength from our bond, will be effective.”
“How do you suggest I find her?” I asked, remembering that none of them knew about her poem. About her promise to summon me. My throat went dry at just the thought.
“I know Tempest w
ell, Charlie,” Priscilla explained. “She is not shy; she will come to you when she feels the time is right.” She expanded her attention to the others, addressing everyone now. “The presence of a full moon strengthens a witch’s magic. This is when she will strike, as she will want to be at her strongest when you sync. If I am correct, the timing should work out since that’s the same evening we will be prepared to do our ritual. Remember: this gives us precisely six days.
“Charlie, you will remain under our full protection in the meantime, of course. Soon enough, you will receive the additional protection of the Guardians. On the night of the ritual, Tempest will reach out to you. Rest assured that the Guardians—along with each of you,” she paused, gesturing toward Desmond, Matt, Pixie, and Quinn before turning back to me, “will not leave your side, Charlie. Unfortunately, I will not be able to accompany you as I will need to be at the lighthouse with the elders to begin the ritual beforehand. Once you and Tempest have synced, I will perform a relocating spell on her to send her to the lighthouse.”
“You can relocate her with a spell?” I asked.
Priscilla nodded her head. “Indeed, I can. Straight into the heart of the ritual’s circle.”
“Okay...but how will you know when it’s been done? When I’ve synced with her?”
“I’ll already be synced to you by then, so I should be able to feel it through our connection. Now, it’s impossible to hone in on a single person with the relocating spell, so anyone within ten or fifteen feet of Tempest will be relocated as well. This will work to our benefit, as I can relocate each of you along with her. Just ensure that you are all near enough to be included.”
“And what if she’s not alone when she comes?” Quinn asked. “You said yourself, others are helping her.”
“That’s a risk we will have to take,” Priscilla replied. “Even if there are several others accompanying her when you appear, they will be outnumbered. We should be able to hold them off while we complete the final step.”
“Charlie can’t stay at her place,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “There’s Tempest, yeah, but there’s also the Gala. It’s close enough to her house to put her in danger, and all kinds of species are supposed to be going to the thing.”