Sebastian retrieved her spoon and kissed her, giving her a long hug.
"I'm sorry, beautiful. I brought you something. Do you forgive me?" He gave her a pleading look, jutting out his lower lip and whipping a small brown paper bag from his coat.
She smiled.
"So long as you have chocolate in that bag."
"Have you developed mind-reading abilities?" he asked, as she pulled open the paper and discovered a package of dark chocolate storks.
"Storks!" she opened them and took a bite, passing one to Sebastian. The chocolate tasted dark and sweet with a hint of nutmeg. She sat at the counter and closed her eyes.
"The airport in Texas had a baby store. Those seemed fitting."
"Mmmm, thank you," she murmured. "Tell me about Jack."
Sebastian scooped them each a bowl of chili and took a seat next to her.
"He was an interesting guy. He's been tracking Kanti since he dug up her bones fifty years ago."
"And he's actually had luck?"
"Some," Sebastian explained. "He discovered that she was part of an Algonquian tribe, and just as your dreams have revealed, she was taken by a huge man wearing furs. That man apparently worked for Clyde, at least we assume it was Clyde. Jack only knew him as the 'white man.' Jack had his own theory about the curse."
"He knew about the curse?" Abby asked, surprised. "Ouch!" she yelped. "Burned my tongue." She pointed at her chili.
He handed her a glass of water.
"Sort of. A strange woman approached him at a diner. She told him that Kanti cursed her own child and if he wasn't careful, the bad blood would somehow get into his family."
Abby frowned.
"That's weird."
"Yeah, though he didn't think it was that strange. Anyway, he believes Kanti cursed her child as a result of her own trauma, maybe even accidentally, and she continues to relive the trauma each time the curse resurfaces."
Abby thought about her dream and nodded. The level of fear alone would create a powerful energy around the baby that she was carrying. Abby had learned so much about how a child's development was influenced by the experiences in utero. If Kanti spent her entire pregnancy in a state of terror, how would that manifest in a child, especially when the mother was magic?
Chapter 24
The sprawling Montana farm occupied a mountain valley, lush with wildflowers. Beautiful silver and chestnut horses grazed in the paddock and small children chased a group of hens through an open barn door.
"It reminds me of America when I first came here," Elda murmured to Julian as he parked the car in the circular dirt driveway.
"Yes, a sweeter time. Though we both fled some pretty terrible experiences so I'm sure we were biased."
Elda nodded, but did not speak.
Both she and Julian had come to America and Ula after their own homes were destroyed. Though Vepars were their enemies in those days, the bigger enemies were civil war, famine, and desperation.
Several white farmhouses were scattered across the property surrounded by barns, stables, and gardens.
A woman walked from the main farmhouse door. The screen swung shut behind her and she waved a hand.
Elda recognized her from the cave of elders, though she had replaced her black cloak with worn jeans and a man's button-down shirt. Her white hair hung in a braid over her shoulder.
"Ellen," Elda said kindly, taking the other witch's hands in her own. They were soft and warm and Elda felt a tug at her heart. She could smell cinnamon and apples, and a bit of flour dotted the woman's right cheek.
"Lovely to meet you in the physical world, Elda," Ellen told her.
"Julian," Julian offered, extending his hand. The woman took it, but rather than let go, she held his hand and took Elda's as well, leading them toward the house.
"Nora's having an especially lucid day. It's a good time for a visit."
Ellen led them through the foyer and down a hallway. She knocked twice and then pushed into a large sunlit room that overlooked a garden of sunflowers. A witch sat in a wheelchair next to the window. She wore a long gray robe. Her thin dark hair was streaked silver and white.
She turned as the door opened and watched them through startlingly clear amber eyes.
"I think I've waited my whole life for you to show up," she told them in a soft voice that likely had once been strong and booming. Even in her wheelchair, aged and shrinking, she had a presence.
Ellen gestured toward two wicker chairs and a small table set with coffee and apple muffins.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate. Just touch that little jade frog and I'll come a'running."
Elda smiled at the little green frog perched on the windowsill.
"Thank you, Ellen," Nora told her.
Ellen nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
"I'm not sure where to begin," Elda told her, settling into a chair.
"I would like to begin, if you don't mind?" Nora said, shifting her wheelchair to face them full on. "Does Clyde live?"
Elda glanced at Julian, surprised.
"I would imagine not," Julian told her. "He was a man, after all, a hybrid yes, but he was born more than three hundred years ago."
Nora shook her head and took in a swift, frustrated breath.
"Then already you underestimate him."
"That's why we're here, Nora. We've only just learned of him. We need your help."
Nora watched them closely. She held a beautiful pink rosary that she braided through her fingers.
"I'm disappointed, I must admit. When Ellen came to me with witches seeking information on the Serpent House, I knew that Clyde lay at the heart of those inquiries. He destroyed it, after all."
"He destroyed your coven?" Julian asked, surprised.
Nora nodded and returned her gaze to the window. A small girl with dark pigtails walked among the rows of sunflowers.
"Rosemary," Nora told them. "My kin, she shares my spirit, you know? We are co-conspirators always tricking the goats."
Nora rapped on the glass and Rosemary look up. She offered a huge smile, short one front tooth, and held up a hen feather.
"I saw this life when I was just a girl. But I believed this family would belong to myself and Eugene. He was my great love. Even after all these years, decades, centuries, I still remember the first moment I saw him."
Julian had learned of Eugene from Binda in Australia. Eugene was the brother that Clyde murdered.
"I was sixteen, new to my powers, but not to the world of magic. I was born in Serpent House. My great-grandfather built it. We were a small coven, eight total, with several witches who lived on the mainland and joined us from time to time. Meghan was one of those witches. She brought Eugene to the coven when he was nineteen. He had been exhibiting powers for several years, but she wanted to teach him on her own without the influence of a coven. She felt it was time for him to learn the ways of our magical world. I remember running down the grand staircase. I had frozen the water in my glass and I was proud to bursting. I raced into my grandfather's study and there he stood with Eugene."
Nora paused and lifted a glass of water to her lips. She took a sip and then watched the water until it froze.
"It still amazes me." She smiled. "He stood next to my grandfather, shoulder to shoulder, reading a map of some sort. His dark hair fell into his eyes and when he looked up, my heart stopped. The ice melted. The second our eyes met, that ice returned to water. He melted me."
Nora's words had grown slower, more drawn out and Elda wondered if she might be slipping away.
Julian too noticed the digression and stood quickly.
"Here Nora, hold this. It will help."
He handed her a large purple stone.
"Fluorite," she said. "Yes, very helpful, I think."
She lifted it to her forehead and held it there.
"It was like I woke up when I met Eugene," Nora told them, her golden eyes troubled and sad. "He had long, silky black
hair pulled in a neat ponytail, and a smile that just about ripped me in two. I was young and idealistic. And the moment I saw him, I knew. He looked at me and it was like we'd always known each other. We were nearly inseparable after that day. Eugene was a special kind of witch. Strong, but soft and humble. He didn't have an ounce of malice or hatred in his being. Sometimes I think that's what killed him. Even in the end, he had faith in his brother. He believed that Clyde, at his core, was a good man. He used to tell me that Clyde had been dealt a hand that any man would struggle to cope with. A magical older brother with the world at his fingertips, when he himself was ill and picked on, an outcast. Clyde was not handsome or funny or kind. Eugene was all of those things and so much more. Meghan adored Eugene. I think our relationship hurt her. She didn't want to lose her spectacular child."
"Tell us about Clyde," Julian urged.
"Clyde was a sickly and sullen child. Nose always stuffed in a book, red eyes, and pale puffy skin. The kids at school poked fun at him. Eugene told me they called him Small Pox, the usual kid stuff. For a boy who looked ill, it was not a surprise. The challenge was that his mother was a witch and his father was a man. It was Meghan who wanted to live normally, but when Eugene started exhibiting powers, magic became a much larger part of their lives. Meghan was entranced by her magical son, doted on him, and Clyde was always second, always less. Meghan and Eugene went on adventures and Clyde stayed behind. Clyde became obsessed with magic and power. He hoarded and stole books and texts from the church, from Indian tribes. He badgered Eugen constantly for information about Serpent House, about witches, and also about Vepars."
"Where was their father in all of this?" Elda asked.
"Drunk, according to Eugene. Meghan tried to help him, performed every piece of magic she could to cure him of the disease, but he was a broken man. He had never been much of a father. He disappeared for weeks at a time and Meghan would search for him. One day, while she and Eugene were away at Serpent House, Clyde went looking for him. He found him dead in the woods."
"From alcohol?"
"Perhaps," Nora said. "Eugene thought so, but I had met Clyde and I had my misgivings. He had such darkness in him, hatred even. I wondered if he had a hand in his father's death."
"And then he murdered Eugene?" Julian asked.
Nora pursed her lips and looked again at the sunflowers beyond her window.
"We were due to be married that autumn. Our whole lives stretched out like a glorious dream that you never have to wake up from. A celebration was planned at Serpent House. It was my eighteenth birthday. Eugene never arrived. Meghan appeared around midnight, frantic. Eugene had left early that morning to purchase a gift for me, but did not return. When she learned he had never arrived at Serpent House, terror took over."
"Why such an extreme reaction?"
"Because Meghan knew. I was so young and naive that I didn't recognize it at the time. The face of a mother who has lost a child. It had not been confirmed, but she felt it. She knew in her heart he had passed. We went to the shore, all the witches of Serpent House. We combed the town and then the woods. My grandfather found him, staked to the ground, tortured." Her voice broke and she held the rosary to her lips.
****
Oliver knew it was the wrong time to ask his questions. He and Ezra lay in her bed at the loft. She had curled away from him, but he wrapped his body around hers and kissed her shoulder.
"How did you end up here, Ezra? With the Guerrilla Witches?"
Oliver felt Ezra shrug beneath him.
"Victor found me."
"How, though? I mean, at Ula we follow bloodlines."
"He told me that he had a feeling when he saw me. He sensed that I was a witch. He didn't come right out and ask me. He tested me."
"How?"
"Isn't this time for sleep or a shower? Are you always this inquisitive after sex?"
"Absolutely." He nuzzled the back of her neck and she laughed, twisting away from him.
"You're tickling me," she said. "And my knee-jerk reaction to tickling is to immobilize you."
He grinned.
"Okay, no more tickling, I promise. How did he test you?"
Ezra turned to look at him, studying his face.
Oliver thought she would refuse to answer and demand to know why he had so many questions.
"I was an emergency room nurse and Victor brought in a lost cause. She was young, only fifteen, and had overdosed on heroin. The drug that I hate most in this world. In human hands she was dead."
"But you saved her."
"I saved her."
"And afterward he approached you and said he was a witch too?"
"Sort of. He said he had friends that were special. And did I want to meet them?"
"That was Kendra and the others?"
"Actually no, they were witches from down south. They didn't even tell me their names. Victor joined them at this huge abandoned warehouse in West Town. They were doing crazy stuff. Flying, making things explode with their minds, causing thunderstorms inside the building. I watched Victor drill a hole through three floors above us with his mind, rocked my world. I didn't know what witches were, but I knew I was one of them. It was the first time I ever felt included, known."
"And you've been with him ever since?"
"Yep, I was the first of the Guerrillas. Victor and I envisioned the group together one night, high on espresso and our own magic. I was so excited for the future, the world we could create."
"You sound disappointed in that dream? Has it not lived up to your expectations?"
"There are a lot of distractions in this life. Witches don't always get to do good all the time. Many of the problems that face humans, face us too."
"Did Victor find the other Guerrilla Witches too?"
"Yep."
"And he found them the same way? A sense?"
"Pretty much. Why don't you trust him, Oliver?"
"It's not that I don't trust him," Oliver told her, telling a small lie. In truth, he didn't trust Victor. Ever since he took Abby into the Vepar's lair, he'd questioned Victor's intentions.
"Don't bullshit me," Ezra said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed. She slid her shorts up and buttoned them, grabbing her crumpled sweatshirt from the floor. She slipped it on, braless, and turned to face him.
Oliver sat up and sighed.
"Okay sure, I don't trust him. I have questions about him, but that's not why I'm here with you. I want to be with you, Ezra. I've wanted to know you since the first time we met."
"What if I were sitting here grilling you about Abby? How forthcoming would you be, Oliver? Or about Helena? Or Faustine?"
"I have nothing to hide regarding any of them. And I'm not defensive about it either. I'm curious why you are?"
Ezra put on her boots, zipping them quickly and angrily.
"I need some air," she told him.
After she left, he lay in bed for another few minutes, contemplating his next move. He could follow her, but Ezra did not seem like the type of woman who wanted a man to rescue her. He felt, instead, that he was getting closer to what lay at the heart of her defensiveness. He had to prove himself trustworthy. He couldn't run away when she started to flinch from him.
****
Lydie unwrapped the twine and reclined on her bed. Garfield curled up next to her feet and tried to distract her with long kitty stretches and copious purring.
"I promise, I'll give you a good long petting after I read these. Deal?"
The cat surveyed her with curiosity and then indifference when she did not begin to pet him.
She opened the first letter and realized they were love letters between the Lourdes, or Milda, and Alva, then known as Ira.
She read the first one and set it aside, disappointed.
It was unlikely she would stumble upon anything of value in a bunch of sappy love letters. Sure, they made for interesting reading, particularly because she knew the futures that had waited for those two troubled souls. I
n the letter, Milda spoke of her daughter, Delphia. She described how her hair looked like fresh honey and when she laughed the flowers bloomed brighter. Lydie had not known the Lourdes, but her story was a cautionary tale at Ula and evidence of how even a powerful witch and seer could be tricked by dark magic.
Lydie read the letters quickly, skipping the mushy parts and making faces of disgust when she read Ira's poetry of devotion.
"Two-faced liar," she whispered under her breath, startling Garfield who gave her a reproachful look before returning to his nap.
As she opened the next one, a little sheet of paper fell from within the stack.
She smoothed the paper on her lap.
It was not a letter, but a series of names with dates next to each and the same notation: dead. Lydie read the names, recognizing several from the night that Victor had explained Abby's and his ancestry and their ultimate connections to Dafne. According to the note, every single female descendant was dead except for the Lourdes, Abby's mother, and Abby. The Lourdes had scrawled something on the bottom of the page. "I will be next and then Abby's mother and Abby with child last of all. Kanti must kill us all."
Chapter 25
"I'm so sorry," Elda told Nora, after she revealed Eugene's murder.
Nora nodded.
"I've had a long time to accept it. Not that acceptance is the right word. The sheer devastation has dulled. I can speak of it now. For years..." She shook her head. "That was only the beginning, of course. When we returned to Serpent House, our home was on fire."
"Clyde?"
"Yes, though we hadn't made the connection. We were all in grief and shock. My grandfather and some of the older witches went on the offense and they knew it was Clyde within a day or two, but I could barely get out of bed. My mother made arrangements for us to rent a house on the mainland. Some of the other witches stayed with relatives. By the time my grandfather realized who was at fault, Clyde and Meghan had fled."
"Why did Meghan take Clyde? She must have been so angry with him?" Julian wondered out loud.
"Back then, I felt the same way. I hated Meghan for shielding Clyde. I thought she was an abomination. Of course, we're given opportunities in this life to see the other side of the story. After I had children, I understood. A part of me still wanted to hate her, but you never love anyone so much as your children, and the truth is that no matter the monstrosities they commit, you continue to love them. You can't help it. It is greater than you. Do you have children, Elda?"
Sky Mothers (Born of Shadows Book 4) Page 20