Sky Mothers (Born of Shadows Book 4)

by J. R. Erickson

  "Okay Lyds, safe travels through the never-sphere. I'll see you in a few hours." Oliver wrapped Lydie in a funky maneuver that combined a hug and a headlock.

  Lydie hugged back and then wrestled away.

  "Au revoir," she said, giving them a quick salute and falling backward into the mirror.

  "Is she going to come crashing out the other side and give Faustine a heart attack?" Abby asked.

  "Probably."

  "No mirror travel for you?" Sebastian asked.

  "Nope, can't leave my magic bus behind and I need to swing by my post office box. I try to make it twice a year in case the IRS is after me."

  Abby gave Oliver a hug and Sebastian offered him a fist bump.

  Outside they heard a car pull into the driveway.

  "Jim, I hardly think it's appropriate to bring fast food. I'm sure they've cooked a meal," they heard Abby's mother shrill.

  Oliver widened his eyes and Sebastian pretended to grab Abby's hand and pull her into the mirror.

  "If we move fast, we can all be in Ula in half a second," Sebastian coaxed.

  "Surely you're not trying to escape your future in-laws?" Oliver joked, peering around them toward the door as if a ghoulish beast might burst in.

  "If my dad had any hair left, it fell out on this drive." Abby sighed, picking up the black cloak bewitched to obscure the mirror. She threw it over the top and Oliver adjusted it into place.

  "Why did your parents drive up together?" Oliver asked. "Attempting a reconciliation?"

  "Doubtful," Abby muttered. "Honestly, I don't know. My mom called me last night and said 'Abigail, your father and I will arrive tomorrow. Is there a suitable place for us to sleep?'"

  "I told her we'd roll out a couple sleeping bags in the shed." Abby grinned.

  "You did not!" Sebastian laughed. "Did you? Please tell me you didn't?"

  "Okay, I thought it really loud, but kept it to myself."

  "I'm gonna make a run for it," Oliver told them.

  They walked outside to greet her parents.

  "Hi Mom, Dad," Abby called.

  "This is a great house," her dad said, popping the trunk and grabbing a large gold pull-behind suitcase-her mother's no doubt. "What'd it go for? Half a million?"

  "Jim," Becky seethed.

  "Hi, Mr. Daniels," Sebastian shook his hand and took the suitcase. "Mrs. Daniels," he offered her an awkward one-armed hug that Becky leaned away from.

  Oliver opened the door to his van.

  "Hi, Abby's parents, nice to see you again. On a deadline, but I'll be seeing you tomorrow." He tipped a hat he wasn't wearing and threw the van in reverse.

  "This is very nice," Becky commented, sizing up the house and turning to scan the property. "The color is rather strange though, and that widow's walk up there gives me the absolute creeps." Becky shuddered.

  Sebastian caught Abby's eye and gave her a look that said, "play nice."

  "Let me give you guys a tour," Abby said, beckoning them toward the front door.

  ****

  "G'day." Oliver smiled as he murmured the Australian greeting with barely a thought.

  The post office clerk beamed at him and she looked mildly disappointed when he turned toward the post office boxes rather than stepping to the desk.

  He hadn't checked his mail in four months. He rarely received correspondence, but a couple times each year his brother or parents sent him a letter and he relished their every word. Though his family believed he lived in India, he had given them the post office box in the UP, with an unlikely explanation about regularly traveling there for wilderness meditations. The box had popped into his mind when he told Ezra about missing his family and he'd been unable to shake it from his thoughts. Dropping the stack of mail into a bag, he returned to his VW bus and rifled through the contents. To his delight, cards had arrived from his brother and mom. A third envelope caught his eye, written in painfully tight, nearly perfect cursive. He set it on the dash and ripped open the card from his brother.

  The picture on the cover revealed Oliver's brother with his wife and sons standing next to a giant Christmas tree. Christmas in New York announced huge red block letters above the smiling family. Oliver could see that Jeannie, his sister-in-law, was pregnant with a third child. They wore funny Christmas sweaters sewn with google-eyed reindeer. His brother wrote that he missed him, hoped that next year he would visit for Christmas, and announced the rather obvious news that another baby was on the way.

  The card from his mother was more generic with a smiling Santa Claus on the front. What the card lacked in personality, she had made up for by writing a novella inside. She outlined the previous months in detail, from his dad's unruly ulcer to the new dining room table she bought. She reserved the end of the card for how much she missed him, pleading with him to visit and finally with the question that she always asked, "What did I do wrong?"

  He cried while he read the cards and when he finished them, he tucked them inside his shirt to feel their words against his chest.

  He picked up the third envelope and glanced again at the writing. It looked familiar, but the sender did not immediately come to him. Ripping it open, he pulled out a single sheet of thick cream stationary. He recognized it immediately from the library at Ula.

  Dear Oliver,

  Perhaps when you read this, I will be sitting beside you. I will have told you, "Let's get that letter and burn it," because as you know, I am thorough and would worry that it is unsafe, even in your post office box. Maybe you will laugh at me and insist on reading it before I can light it on fire, which I will do as you hold it in your hands. There is another option, a more likely one, I fear, and it is that I am no longer of your world. My story is long-the tale of a witch is rife with tragedy, is it not? But how can I pass out of this life without leaving that story behind? So I have written it in detail in a journal, which I hid at Ula. Ula is great for hiding things, all those secret passageways you used to sneak into with Lydie during our games of hide and seek. I would practically have fire coming out of my ears, I'd get so angry with you. I will miss the two of you most of all. Before you came to Ula, I was a broken woman. It was only through your humor and Lydie's innocence that I learned to feel love again and I am grateful eternally. I have left something else in the journal, another letter that outlines what I have been up to. You're onto me by now, I'm sure. I am reluctant to mention names in this letter. The paranoia in me wins out yet again. Therefore, I will refer to the entity as K. I have learned much about K in the past year and things are not as they seem.

  Do you remember the secret passage that led from Lydie's room to the library? At the second bend, reach to the ceiling. I will say no more, you were always a better sleuth than me.

  Despite how all of this may seem, I loved all of you. Everything I did was to protect you, to protect Ula, and I now know that I was chasing phantoms, the wrong ones. I love you. In the journal, you will also find letters to each of the witches of Ula. I wanted to write them just in case, maybe we'll be burning them together later, by the light of the library fire, drinking a cup of Bridget's cocoa and celebrating life.

  Dafne

  Oliver, not realizing he'd been holding his breath, let it out in rush. He read the letter again and then a third time. Dafne had left a journal. Dafne had suspected that her death was imminent. He tucked the letter back into the envelope and leaned his head back.

  ****

  "Why would Dafne hide it in the passage by my room?" Lydie asked, gazing at the stone wall hung with a purple tapestry that Helena had made for her. She looked again at the letter that Oliver had received from Dafne.

  "I don't know, Lyds," Oliver admitted. "Maybe she wanted us to remember better times."

  Lydie nodded and swallowed the lump gathering in her throat. It hurt to think of Dafne. It hurt most of all to think of Dafne in the years before Abby and Sebastian arrived at Ula. She was never a bowl of cherries, but she had a lighter side. Helena used to lovingly call her the Tender
Dragon. Dafne had put a lot of effort into easing Lydie's transition into Ula, and as a fellow fire element, she believed it her duty to show Lydie the ways of fire.

  Lydie remembered nights on Oliver's balcony. Dafne performed fire tricks and Oliver poked fun at the outlandish displays. Dafne liked to say earth elements were jealous of fire elements, but Lydie knew they were teasing. Oliver was the only witch who truly connected with Dafne until Lydie came along. Dafne felt protective of Lydie and wanted to help guide her.

  "She wrote all of us letters?" Lydie asked, slightly afraid to read hers. It would make her cry and miss Dafne and wish to turn back time.

  "It seems that way."

  Lydie pushed the tapestry aside and fit her fingers into the grooves between two bricks. A tiny metal hook stuck from the cement and she flicked it with her finger. The stone wall shifted, swinging slowly in and back, revealing a passage behind the wall.

  Lydie lit a small ball of fire. It floated before them as they walked into the shadows. Sebastian paused at the second turn and reached for the ceiling. He felt a large stiff envelope fastened to the stone ceiling, He tugged and it pulled away.

  "Got it," he whispered.

  Lydie's eyes looked wide and tearful in the light of her fire.

  "What will it say?" she asked.

  Oliver shook his head.

  "We'll know soon enough."

  ****

  They could have read the letters and the journal alone, but Oliver had tired of secrets. He wanted everyone in Ula to know about Dafne's journal so they gathered in the library and opened the envelope together.

  "I feel like Abby and Sebastian should be here," Lydie broke in.

  "They arrive with Abby's parents this afternoon," Julian reminded her. "And we can't exactly have this conversation in front of her mom and dad. After the wedding will be soon enough."

  "I second that," Oliver said. "Let's give them a peaceful wedding and honeymoon before we wreak more havoc on their lives."

  Oliver passed out the letters, setting the one addressed to Abby aside. Helena cried as she read her letter. The only dry eyes in the room belonged to Julian as he did not receive a letter since he'd been away from Ula for years when Dafne disappeared. After they finished reading their letters, Oliver held up one more.

  "This letter is addressed to the coven. Does anyone want to read it out loud?"

  "I will," Elda said, sniffling into a handkerchief. She dried her eyes and stood.

  Dearest Coven-

  I hope that in writing this letter, I'm offering all that I know of the curse that plagues my bloodline. In the midst of the damage I've done, I am attempting to set things right. Such powerful witches you are, and I have no doubt you've already discovered a great deal about this curse. I blame myself for not confiding in you sooner. Together we could have overcome this, but I hated and judged myself for having loved Tobias and even more for having abandoned my child. I did not want you to see me in that light and I arrogantly believed I could thwart the curse on my own.

  As I write this letter, I am preparing to travel to France. Will I attempt again to wipe Sebastian's memories? I do not know. I am reluctant to admit that I have considered killing him. It is wrong, yes, but could it end the curse? Could it save Abby and all of you? My only hope is that you receive this information in time for it to be of some use.

  I visited the L'Obscurite and obtained a book by Joseph Yarrow. How did I know to seek this book? The Lourdes, in one of her rare lucid moments, told me that the original owner of that book contributed to the curse on our bloodline. I do not know his name. Only that he kidnapped the girl Kanti, tortured, and murdered her. The information in that book outlines an Egyptian ritual for immortality. This man was desperate to live forever. He was not a witch, but sought power by any means possible. The girl Kanti was the origin of his magic. The Lourdes has compiled a great deal about this curse, which may surprise you. How can an insane witch trapped in a forest retrieve any information? Every potion she received, she used to those ends. She wanted to perpetuate the misconception of her evilness, and don't get me wrong, she's often malevolent and cruel. But she hoped to learn of the outcome of her abandoned child, and in searching for that child, she discovered the curse and a history of the girl Kanti.

  If I am gone when you read this, go to the Lourdes. I have given her the book on Yarrow. You shudder at this revelation, but I kept my word. She told me the name of the book and where to find it. In return I gave her the book after I read it. The witch Ethel in New Orleans believed she tricked me by ripping out the pages regarding possession, but I am not a fool. As Elda will tell you, a simple spell to reveal that which is missing produced those pages for me. Do not punish or contact the L'Obscurite in retaliation for her actions. They are a dark and ominous group and they will not soon forget a confrontation.

  When I first learned of the curse, Kanti was the only entity I could discover. I am her descendant, as was the Lourdes, and Abby. There are many, many more and I will tell you a strange and unsettling truth: Tobias, Alva, and I believe Sebastian, are descendants as well. We come from that original duo - Kanti and the man who stole her. If this man did, in fact, follow Yarrow's instructions, he has committed a great many murders to fuel his immortality. He has created multiple objects, much like relics, that house the spirits and the magic of the witches he has slain. I know of only two-an amulet and a dagger.

  Kanti is not the ultimate enemy. I believed that she was when I set out on this search. I now know that she is held hostage in the world between life and death. Her spirit continues to give energy to the man who took her life. After reading Yarrow's book, I realized that I could help Kanti come back in physical form. I'm sure you think me crazy that I would make such a choice, but let me explain. There is no entity in existence more desperate to destroy this man than her. She may be the only way to eliminate him, and in turn, the curse. I do not believe that Kanti created the curse. Yarrow speaks of lineage as the most powerful energy that a single person can possess. Each child carries an imprint of the original creator's energy. If Kanti is allowed to come back, she will destroy him. How does she come back? Through possession. She must possess the body of another and I intend to offer myself for this cause. Please try to understand why I have made this choice. I am atoning for my mistakes. Perhaps I will end this curse after all.

  Yours Truly,

  Dafne

  Elda folded the letter and held it to her lips.

  "Kanti didn't create the curse," Faustine murmured. "I have suspected as much. Since reading Yarrow's book, I have thought the curse is part of Clyde's immortality. It is like a refueling every hundred years."

  "A refueling?" Oliver asked, skeptical.

  Helena stood, her face puffy from crying.

  "This is a lot to digest and there is still much to do for Abby and Sebastian's wedding tomorrow. I suggest we return to our wedding tasks and give this a couple of days to settle and make sense. I don't want our home to be filled with the energy of sad contemplation."

  Elda returned her letter to the envelope and nodded.

  "Yes, Helena is right. We will put everyone in a funk if we stay in this cerebral darkness. Let's find the joy in the present moment. Tomorrow there will be a wedding, a celebration of love, and we owe it to Abby and Sebastian to honor that ritual with our whole selves."

  Oliver glanced at Lydie, half expecting her to argue, but she too looked ready for a break from the heavy revelations of Dafne's letter.

  Chapter 29

  Sebastian stood beneath the ornate wooden archway. Julian had carved it from driftwood he found on the Lake Superior Shore. It was pale, bleached by years of sun and water, and smooth to the touch. Helena had draped the arch in white silk. It blew in the soft breeze that flowed off the water.

  A sea of emotion coursed through Sebastian, not all of it joyful. Sorrow tugged at his heart, beckoning him to look into the face of that pain and see his family, absent, from this most auspicious day. His mothe
r would have run her fingers through his hair so that it stuck up in funny directions. She would have laughed and insisted that the pictures would be more memorable that way. His father would have been the serious one. He would have given Sebastian a memento to carry, a handkerchief or a pocket watch, something traditional and weighted with the Hull men who had come before. Claire would have been giddy and bouncing around the garden, chatting with the flowers. She would have fawned over Abby and insisted on braiding a flower into her hair.

  A blue and black butterfly landed on his outstretched hand. He lifted his finger close to his face and thought of his sister's words in the dream wood. "Think warm breezes and butterflies," she had said.

  "Hi Claire," he whispered.

  The butterfly spread her wings wide, revealing a pattern of blue spots that nearly made the shape of a heart on her shining wings. Helena stood behind him and he saw her watching the butterfly as well.

  Sebastian turned back to the witches before him. They faced the edge of the garden where Abby would emerge from the forest below. Her father stood, waiting. He wore a dark suit and clutched nervously at his tie. He turned frequently to scan the faces of the witches and offer polite smiles and nods before quickly turning his gaze back to the steps.

  Abby's mother sat in a chair close to the arch. She gazed around the space with an awed, and perhaps, suspicious expression. She wore a long heather gray dress and a string of pearls. Sebastian felt her eyes study him regularly as she looked at the garden. When they made eye contact he smiled and offered her a thumbs up, and she returned a polite nod.

  When Abby appeared, he felt every muscle in his body constrict. She looked ethereal in a long silk dress that flowed and shifted with her movements. Her gown seemed to slide and shimmer over her body like a living thing. Every inch of her looked beautiful, but most of all her eyes, soft and brown and huge as she walked toward him. He saw in her eyes everything he felt reflected back to him, love, desire, and fear.