by Nova Nelson
“Is Eastwind one of them, too, I guess?”
“Yes. Eastwind has a few realms branching off from it, too, but nothing close to the number attached to Avalon.”
He fell silent and I stared down at the table of contents again. Were these all realm names, then? Was there a volume on these shelves that had Eastwind listed? What about one that had my home realm listed? If so, what would it be called, Earth? Did it have many realms branching off from it?
It was a lot to take in, but I forced myself to stay focused on the task at hand. “So I guess we need to figure out which realm this entity came from.” I spoke mostly to the minotaur, who nodded. “Great, except this book is easily two thousand pages. We could be here reading for a week.”
“Close. Then open,” the minotaur said.
I shut my eyes, gathering my patience. “Okay, seriously. I need more help than that. You’ve been great so far, don’t get me wrong, and this whole mysterious book cellar thing was fun and novel, but I really need—”
“Close. Then open.”
I cleared my throat to collect myself. I was not big on men interrupting me, but when a dead one with a bull’s head who stood a cool two feet taller than myself did it, I figured it was not the best time to launch into a lecture on male privilege.
I closed the book.
Then I opened it.
Pages fluttered open with the front cover, and when I looked down at the one it opened to, I almost dropped the dang thing in surprise.
A detailed hand-drawn image of the battlefield stared back at me from the old parchment pages.
“Whoa,” said Donovan. “That’s lucky.”
The minotaur lifted his snout in a self-satisfied way as he crossed his arms.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, then turned my attention to the page, reading every word I could about the battle of the two armies, the blue rain god and the white wind god summoned by the smaller army, and then finally, I saw what I was looking for. “Ba,” I breathed. Donovan’s chest was pressed against my shoulder as he read along.
“That’s got to be it,” he said. He pointed to a passage as he read. “Commander Feingart, knowing his men would lose when blinded by the rain and facing into the wind, did the only thing he could to stand a chance, though ultimately it was what lost him the war. He summoned Ba, the unwieldy and insatiable drought god to fight off the twin deities summoned by Admiral Glom. Ba made quick work of the others, but when Feingart lost control of her, she turned on his army and stole all their water, wine, and made the earth before them inhospitable to growing food, starving the Dym army and costing them the war.” He glanced up at me. “Drought? Unwieldy? Stealing water, ruining crops? I think this might be our entity.”
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.” The minotaur left us alone then, returning to whatever business he was attending when we’d shown up. “But that also means our entity is a god. That doesn’t work in our favor.”
“Not necessarily. It says god because that’s what these people believed it was. But it could just as easily be another kind of powerful entity—a demon or phantom.”
“Geez, I never thought I’d be relieved to know I was facing just a demon. So, how do we get rid of it?”
He motioned for me to hand him the book, which I did, and then he turned to the next page. “It says the Hon army was eventually able to banish the Ba by calling for an oracle who performed the following incantation …” He turned the page and swore.
I immediately understood why. The incantation was long, required a grocery store’s worth of ingredients, and was probably beyond Donovan’s level of expertise.
“Can we get all this at the Pixie Mixie?” I asked.
“Maybe. All except one thing.”
“Which is what?”
“An oracle.”
“Oh.” Yeah, Kayleigh probably didn’t have one of those in stock. “Is there an oracle in Eastwind? Surely there is. You have one of everything I can think of and then some. For example, I’d never even heard of a were-elk before I came here. Yet, there one is, handing out citations to juveniles and eating apple pie daily.”
“No, there are no oracles in Eastwind. There might be one or two in Avalon, but they require special care usually, and Eastwind doesn’t have the resources.”
I scanned the incantation. “Does it explicitly say that it has to be an oracle who does this spell?”
He checked again. “Huh. No, I guess not. I just assumed because they used one to trap her the first time.”
“Great. No oracle required, far as I’m concerned.”
He narrowed his eyes my direction, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to get yourself killed.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Between us, Nora, are you suicidal?”
I stepped away from him quickly. “What? No! I just don’t have the time to hunt down an oracle! Besides, it’s not like Ba has caused any harm to humans.”
He shook his head minutely, blinking rapidly. “What’s a human?”
“It’s, um, like a witch but without magic. Forget it. I just mean you and I might not be at any risk. Sure, it might make us super thirsty, but—”
“You do realize we’re made up almost entirely of water, right?”
I snapped my mouth shut. I did know that. And I’d considered it as a possible danger. But I was hoping Donovan wouldn’t arrive at that reality yet. I grumbled, “Now who’s constructing obstacles?”
He grunted not unlike Anton. Except Donovan’s grunt had a single clear meaning. He was caving. “Fine, but remember what I said. I will haunt you. It won’t be fun. Say goodbye to privacy.”
“Creep.”
He shrugged.
“Okay, so I guess we just copy down the spell on a piece of paper and take it with us since this book ain’t going anywhere anytime soon?” I tugged at the chain.
“Do you have a piece of paper?” he asked.
“No, but I’m sure we can find one.”
He shoved the book back at me. “No need.” Reaching behind him, he pulled his wand from his waistband and touched the tip to the page. The words of the incantation glowed, and as he drew his wand away from the paper, the glowing words followed through the air behind until they floated in front of us. Then, with a flick of his wrist, they disappeared. “I can pull them back up when I need them.”
“Wow. You’re like a witch witch.”
“As opposed to?”
“Me, I guess.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I definitely come out on top in that comparison.”
I thanked the minotaur on our way out (he didn’t even look up from his book), and let Donovan lead the way through the tunnels, up into the main gallery of the library. I was glad someone had paid attention to the route we’d taken, because I sure hadn’t. As much as I hated to admit it, I was, deep down, glad I had Donovan with me.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m trying not to get psyched out that most of the ingredients we need are in the necromancy section,” I whispered to Donovan as we collected our supplies from the Pixie Mixie.
“You and me both,” he said. “If we have to rely mostly on your magic, we’re both dead.”
“Uncalled for,” I said, grabbing a jar of dragon blood from the shelf and inspecting it. “Doesn’t seem like this should be legal.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied, “the dragons are compensated quite well for their donations. Look at the price tag.”
I turned over the jar and almost dropped it. “Sweet baby jackalope. This stuff has gotta be worth more per ounce than gold.”
“It is.”
“And how much of it do we need?”
“Just a few drops.”
I replaced the jar on the shelf like it was a rigged bomb and grabbed a tiny dropper next to it, which still cost almost a week’s worth of tips from Medium Rare. “There’s not a substitute?” I said. “Maybe a close replacement?”
“You want a close replacement for the inc
antation, or you want the actual incantation?”
I gritted my teeth and put the dragon’s blood into Donovan’s basket. I had the money, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that I’d have rather saved it for something else. Like my own house.
Kayleigh Lytefoot grinned at us and, on the whole, did an admirable job of acting like she wasn’t confused about why Donovan and I were shopping in the necromancy section together. But as she jotted down the items one at a time, her facade started to crumble. “I know it’s none of my business,” she said, “but I just want to make sure you two know what you’re getting into before you experiment with this sort of thing.”
“I appreciate the concern,” Donovan said. “And I assure you, we really don’t have a clue what we’re getting into. But Nora likes it best that way.”
Kayleigh paused, her eyes jumping from Donovan to me, then a sly grin turned the corners of her lips. “Yes, Stella is the same way. I don’t understand it myself, but I do know that it’s not always a bad thing. Being in a relationship with it, though, can be tricky.” She pressed her lips together and cast Donovan a cautionary look.
“Oh, no,” I said, jumping to the side to put distance between Donovan and myself. “We’re not in a relationship.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, no longer paying attention as she jotted down the final items in her ledger. “Will you be paying in full today, or should I bill you?”
I cringed. “Bill me, please. I’m good for it. I just don’t carry that much gold around with me.”
She nodded, grinning brightly. “You would be murdered pretty instantly if you did. I’ll send the receipt by owl to Ruby’s house. You still live there, right?”
“Yeah …” I grimaced. “But if you could wait, like, a day before sending it over …?” I hoped I didn’t have to spell out the rest, the part about how if Ruby saw the inventory on the receipt before I could complete the incantation, she would probably lose her mind and drag me out of the Deadwoods before I could accomplish what I’d just spent a fortune to do.
“Are you sure you need to do this?” Kayleigh asked as she held out handles of the canvas bag of supplies.
I grabbed it from her and lugged it off the counter. “Mostly. Thanks, Kayleigh. Tell Stella I said hello. I still owe her one for the help a couple weeks ago.” Stella Lytefoot, Kayleigh’s life partner, was Eastwind’s top potions master and had done a solid for Tanner, Grim, and me when a taste enhancement potion had gone horribly awry.
“Don’t worry about that,” Kayleigh replied as Donovan and I reached the front door. “Just try not to get yourself killed, okay?”
Dusk was settling on Eastwind when Grim trotted up from where he’d parked it in some soft, cool grass outside the apothecary.
“I take it Kayleigh doesn’t know about you and Tanner,” said Donovan.
“No. Why would I tell her?” I snapped.
Whoa, Nora, rein it in.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just, well, you know.”
“I really don’t.” He grabbed the straps of the canvas bag, pulling it off my shoulder and hoisting it up onto his.
As we passed a few familiar faces along our route, I wondered how long it would take before Tanner heard about Donovan and I enjoying an evening of shopping on the town.
“It’s just a typical petty woman thing,” I said. “I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you that I would have a typical petty woman thing.”
“Actually,” he said, “it does. You don’t strike me as petty. Or typical.”
“Then let me ask you something. Who do you think Kayleigh looks like?”
Donovan’s face pinched in toward his nose as he stared out over the buildings down the hill of us in the direction of the Outskirts. “Never thought about it.”
“She looks like me,” I said quickly.
He paused, turning to squint down at me. His detailed inspection of me from head to foot made me itch to escape his view. But I made sure not to show it. “Ah, yeah, I could see that,” he concluded.
“Right.” I looked away from him before a blush overtook my face and started back down the street. “Not only that, but despite being hundreds of years older than me, she’s the prettier, younger version of me.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said.
“No, it’s fine. Every woman discovers one eventually—a younger, prettier, maybe even more talented version of herself who’s probably super nice and impossible to hate, which only makes us hate her more. I knew this day would come, I just didn’t expect her to be an ancient pixie.”
“You’re being incredibly stupid,” he said, in usual form. But then he added, “You’re way hotter than she is.”
I nearly gagged on my own spit. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what.
Maybe you should say nothing for once.
Now there was a novel idea.
“Oh great,” he said, “are you going to be all awkward about that now?”
“I’m not being awkward about anything.”
“You absolutely are. I admitted that I thought you were hot, and then, for the first time since I’ve known you, you don’t hurl an insult my way. Ergo, you’re being awkward.”
“What am I supposed to say, ‘Thanks, Donovan, I think you’re hot, too’?”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t hurt. I like compliments as much as the next witch.”
“Please, like you don’t have women throwing themselves at you. Mr. Sexy Bartender with a tortured soul and emotional walls so high a weregazelle on a trampoline couldn’t clear them. I know your type.”
“Oh yeah? You think I’m a type?” he said bitterly.
“Totally. And you would’ve been just my type before I came to Eastwind.”
“But not anymore.”
“Nope. Not anymore. Because New Nora is not a self-sabotaging masochist like Old Nora was.”
He shook his head, sighing. “Wow. You think someone would have to be a self-sabotaging masochist to want to be with me? For fang’s sake, remind me never to pay you another compliment.”
“I didn’t realize you had more than one compliment reserved for me.”
“If I did before, I don’t now.” He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and our conversation came to an abrupt end.
Grim spoke up from just behind me. “Are you two going to make out or what?”
“Ew, Grim. No.”
“I’m just asking, because if you are, I could use a bathroom break.”
“Hold it until the Deadwoods. We’re almost there.”
“I make no promises.”
“We should take the long way around,” I said once Medium Rare came into view. “When Tanner heard you and I were spending the night together”—I shook my head—“the evening. Spending the evening together. Whatever. He decided to work late.”
Donovan nodded, and we took a detour to avoid being seen.
The plan was to follow the drought path, which wasn’t hard to make out, even from twenty yards off. While the Deadwoods contained plenty of dead things, the plants themselves were very much alive, except for where Ba had passed. We would simply follow the dried and wilted path, and with any luck, it would take us past Ted’s house. It hadn’t been difficult to conclude his was the house we’d seen in the vision. Not only because the grim reaper was one of the few people able to live in the Deadwoods without worrying about the innumerable threats, but also because the odds of there being more than one Deadwood inhabitant who spent his or her free time building birdhouses seemed slim to none.
His home would serve as a checkpoint to show we were on the right path, but ultimately, we would have to proceed farther, deeper into the secluded forest until we reached the misty tunnel of trees. And then what? I had a hunch, but I planned on feeling it out once, or rather if, we got there.
Entering the Deadwoods was like pressing mute on everything Eastwind. I wasn’t two steps past the tree line when all of the ambient noise of Eastwind I’d long since stopped noticing—the
birds, the chatter, the occasional clamor of cartwheels over cobblestone—disappeared entirely. I glanced over my shoulder and spied the light of Medium Rare, shining through the late dusk, and was that Tanner’s figure in the window? But I couldn’t hear any of the familiar sounds.
I remembered when I’d stood in this exact spot and seen Eastwind for the first time. Though back then, I’d assumed I was still in Texas. The smell of the diner food had drawn me in and taken me back to memories of the diner I used to visit with my parents as a child. A lifetime ago.
“You okay, Nora?”
I turned my back on Eastwind. Donovan was staring at me expectantly. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’ll see it again,” he said.
“I know.” I walked farther into the woods, shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
“You looked like you didn’t know.”
“No, it wasn’t that. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
Normally, I’d have told him to mind his own business, but the strangeness of having memories from two different lives was clouding my judgment. “Just the first time I saw Eastwind. I was standing right there.”
“Wait, but that means you entered Eastwind through—”
“The Deadwoods. You didn’t know that? Yep. I saw Medium Rare and wandered to it. It was almost like I was led there. And I guess I was, since I’d followed in the direction Grim disappeared after he’d woken me up.”
“And then you met Tanner,” he finished. “I guess I can see why you have a thing for him. First point of contact, and all.”
“You make it sound like some sort of psychological syndrome.”
“Love usually is.”
“It’s not love,” I said.
He chuckled. “Okay.” Then he picked up the pace and I hurried to keep up.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way women fall for Tanner, and it’s always fast and hard.”
“How many women … No, never mind. I don’t want to know.”