The Family Tree: The Weight of Magic, Episode 4

by Lana Melyan

  “What problem?” He went to the iron basket, dropped the wood in it, and sat next to me on the couch.

  “There’s another Callahan out there.” I held up the bunch of papers in my hand, stapled together.

  “No way. Vincent would’ve said something.”

  “He wasn’t sure until the last moment. In his last record, the one he made in August, he says he thinks it’s a fifty-two-year-old man named Christopher Murphy, who lives in Tampa. Not married. Nate, this is very, very bad.”

  “Maybe that was the reason Vincent called our last meeting? To tell us about it? I agree, it’s bad.” He frowned. “But why very very? Explain.”

  “First, he comes from a line of dark witches. Second, maybe he doesn’t know what I know or what we’re doing or anything about the sword or the map and everything else I have. But if he knows, and if he tries to find those things, or any family artifacts, he would definitely know where to look. And because he’s a Callahan, he would be able to get in there.”

  “Damn.” Nate stared at the floor. “You’re right. It was bad already, and now it’s very bad.” But then, after a moment of thinking, he said, “Wait. Maybe he doesn’t know anything. Or maybe he doesn’t even know that he’s a Callahan? If he knew, and if he wanted any of those things, why didn’t he show up before? Nicky, it’s possible he has no clue.”

  “Yeah.” I froze. “Or he had no clue, until, like me, he received his message the Callahan way.” I pressed my two fingers to my temple. “From his mother before, or after she died. Five months ago.”

  We stared at each other.

  “Okay, let’s think this through,” said Nate. “If Sara passed him the message, it means she knew stuff, right? But she never showed up. That means she didn’t care about any of this.”

  “Nate, even if it’s so, it doesn’t mean her son won’t care. What if she knew, but she was scared and was hiding from the Order who she was, like me?”

  “We need to find Christopher Murphy.”

  “If the Order hasn’t found him already.” We stared at each other again. “It might’ve happened if he wasn’t careful.”

  Nate got up and started pacing.

  “We need to call a meeting,” he said. He picked up his phone. “Logan. I need you to come to the cabin. We need to talk . . . Yeah, sure, bring Connie with you.” He hung up, and made another call. “Brian, are you in the bar? Then find some safe place where you can speak freely. I’ll call you in about half an hour. Bring Sam too.”

  “Nate, you look too worried now,” I said, looking up at him from my seat.

  “You said it yourself, he comes from a line of dark witches. We have no idea who he is or what he’s capable of. This might be dangerous, and what I’m worried about, first of all, is you and your safety.”

  Half an hour later, Nate, Logan, Connie, and I gathered around the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Nate called Brian, put the phone on the table, and turned on the speaker.

  “I called this meeting,” started Nate, “because it seems we have a problem. Right before he died, Vincent found another Callahan. And that’s bad.” Then he recounted the whole story and our concerns. “At first I thought I would go to Tampa myself, but the thing is, I can’t leave Nicky’s side now. You know those things she’s guarding puts her in great danger. Even if the guy came just to pick up some family artifacts, it could end badly.”

  “Is it possible to, just in case, replace the most important items?” asked Brian.

  “I’m sorry, Brian,” I said. “But I can’t. There are too many things there that. . . My dad wouldn’t want me to do that.”

  “She’s right,” said Nate. “Besides, now it’s just one guy we have to worry about. If we get those things out, many more would be able to get their hands on them.”

  “I’ll come up with something,” I said as an idea hit me. “I’ll take some extra precautions.”

  “How old is the dude? Can you tell me his full name?” asked Sam.

  “He’s fifty-two. His name is Christopher Murphy,” said Nate.

  “I’ll try to dig up as much on him as I can,” said Sam.

  “Do that. We better find him before he starts brandishing his Callahan flag,” said Nate.

  “Nate,” said Brian, “do you want me to go to Tampa?”

  “No. I need you there. If this guy just found out who he is, he’ll probably be doing some digging too. I need you guys to watch the house. That’s the only Callahan property left. He might show up there. And if he does, he might attract unwanted attention. If you install a camera somewhere, that will make things much easier for you.”

  “Will do,” said Brian.

  “Nicky, are you freaked?” asked Sam.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “She’s not worried,” Nate said, his jaw tightening, “because I’m right here. Okay?”

  “You’re not the only one who cares about her.”

  “And we all know about that. Sam.” Nate cleared his throat. “She saved you once. But even she won’t be able to save you a second time.”

  Logan rubbed his upper lip to hide his smile behind his hand. Connie turned to me, her gaze perplexed.

  “So you know?” asked Sam.

  “Of course I know. You thought she would keep it from me?”

  “Well, good,” barked Sam.

  “You’re lucky—”

  “Guys,” I snapped. “This is a business meeting.”

  “Right,” said Nate, his tone reverting to normal. “So, about Tampa. Kate is close by, and I thought maybe she could check out his place, gather some information. But it could take more than a day or two, and I don’t know if her father—”

  “I’ll go,” said Logan. “If you don’t have any other plans for me.”

  “No, I don’t. And thanks, that would be great.”

  “No problem.”

  “Guys, we need to find this man. He has Callahan blood running through his veins. He can screw up everything.”

  Nate hung up and opened his laptop. Then he and Logan started looking for morning flights to Tampa.

  Connie beckoned me toward the back doors. It was chilly, and I grabbed a blanket as the two of us got up and went outside. We sat on the dock, and I threw the blanket over our shoulders.

  “Nicky, what was all that about?” asked Connie. “What the heck happened?”

  The two of us hadn’t had a moment alone during the last two days, and I hadn’t told her anything yet.

  “This is so embarrassing,” I said, pushing back my hair.

  “Nicky.” She stared at me. “What did you do?”

  “Sam and I kissed.” Connie’s jaw dropped. “I saw Nate and Ruby at . . . I got mad, and I let Sam kiss me.”

  “Holy crap. And you told Nate about it? I’m surprised Sam is still alive.”

  “Yeah. Nate stormed out for the bar, but I stopped him.” Then I told her the whole story. How I saw Nate and Ruby, and everything that happened after that.

  “That was some night.” Connie shook her head. Then she smirked. “So, how was it?”

  “How was what?”

  “Sam. Was he good?”

  “My God, Connie.” Abashed, I elbowed her.

  “So?” she kept smiling.

  “I don’t remember. All I could think about was Nate. That those weren’t Nate’s lips.”

  “I’m glad Nate got over it. He isn’t some teenager with trust issues, he’s an experienced man.” She chuckled. “He understands that it was just a dumb mistake.” Her eyes fixed on the lake. After a moment of silence, she said, “So it’s true, then? About the bite? That it’s an intimate moment for a vampire?”

  “Nate says it is. With someone they have feelings for, I suppose.”

  Connie nodded.

  “Connie.” I gaped at her. “Don’t you dare even think about it.”

  “We could try.” She shrugged.

  “No, you c
ouldn’t. It might end badly.”

  “He is strong, Nicky,” she said quietly. “And he always has to hold back with me so he won’t hurt me. Plus, he has to fight his blood lust every time we’re together. If there’s something I can do for him—”

  “Stop it. He’s still with you, isn’t he? Because he loves you.”

  “For how long? How long can he suffer like that?” A tear slid down her cheek. “God, and there’s always a smile on his face, and every time he kisses me, his eyes glow with happiness.”

  “Connie, maybe it’s not that hard for him.” I held her hand with both of mine. “I mean, the blood lust.”

  “It’s that hard. I know. I’ve seen his fangs, and his face changes sometimes when we’re having sex. And he has to pull back, take a moment. I don’t want to lose him, Nicky. I love him. He’s my MB, my Much Better.”

  “You’re not gonna.” I threw my arm around her shoulder, and she dropped her head on mine.

  “Connie, what is it?” asked Logan when we came inside. “Are you okay?” He looked into her eyes, then held her face in his hands and kissed her.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled. “It’s the wind. It blew something into my eyes.”

  My heart ached. How could it be? Even when people were madly in love with each other, why was there always something to make them suffer, go through pain and heartbreak? Why couldn’t love be painless?

  We invited Connie and Logan to have dinner with us. And right after we ate and cleaned up, Sam called. Nate put his phone on speaker.

  “Guys,” said Sam, “I think something’s wrong here. I tried to find this guy’s picture, and after I ruled out people who could have been him, there’s only one picture of Christopher Murphy. Nicky, I’m sending it to you now.”

  I fished my phone out of my bag, and we all stared at the photograph.

  “You see what I mean?” said Sam. “This was taken only three years ago, and he doesn’t look fifty-two. He looks twenty-eight, thirty tops.”

  “Maybe it’s not him?” said Connie.

  “Everything matches,” said Sam. “Tampa, the year of birth, and I found his picture on some site that pays homage to dark magic.”

  “That’s bad,” said Nate. “If this is him, it means he’s immortal, which means he’s used some serious dark magic and he’s good at it.”

  Serious dark magic. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to ask you how you did it. Is that the big secret you’re afraid I’ll find out?

  “I suppose we’ll know tomorrow if it’s him or not,” said Logan. “Sam, do you have the address?”

  “Yep. Both his and his mother’s.”

  “Send them to me.”

  9

  I was awake, but even with my eyes closed, I knew I was alone in the bed. I stretched, moved to Nate’s side, and hugged his pillow. I could see through the window the gray morning sky. The naked branches of the tall tree were motionless.

  At least it’s not windy.

  I heard footsteps a moment before Nate showed up in the doorway.

  There’s my man.

  “Good morning.” He sank onto the bed next to me, and ran his hand up my leg on top of the covers. “Breakfast is ready.”

  Every time your lips smile at me, or move as you speak, I want to . . .

  He was already kissing me, sending a wave of pleasure down my whole body.

  “Nate, I have an idea,” I said after breakfast as Nate and I settled on the couch.

  “I’m listening.”

  “This place, where everything is hidden, I can’t stand there and guard it day and night. But maybe we could do something about it, if you help me. I was wondering if it’s possible to put a boundary around it, so I would feel if someone crosses it?”

  He narrowed his eyes, thinking.

  “It’s possible.”

  “The thing is, it's a bit far. Would it still work from this distance?”

  “Nicky, to do the spell, I’ll have to see the place. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. It’s just a place. And I already told you no one can enter it.” I sighed. Then I moved closer, climbed onto his lap, and locked my arms around his neck. I pressed my cheek to his.

  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

  “Nate, you know I trust you,” I murmured into his ear, “and I’m so sorry I have to hide things from you.”

  “Nicky, stop it,” he said, running his hand over my back. “It’s your job. You said it yourself, remember? When it comes to the mission, we’re not a couple.”

  “I did, but I hate it. And I want you to know it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because it’s my duty, and I have to.”

  “I know.” He pulled me back. “And you don’t have to hide your face to say it. I know you trust me.” He kissed me. “But you have to do what you have to do.”

  I kissed him too, but the moment his hands moved up my back, pressing me closer, I had to pull away.

  “Okay,” I said, beaming at him. “Then we have to go.”

  “Where are we going?” he asked, still holding me.

  “To the family tree.”

  “I knew it!” Smiling, he shook his head. “Of course it had to be there.”

  Nate grabbed a few things we would need––a jackknife, a small shot glass to collect some of my blood for the spell––and we drove to the woods.

  We stopped on the edge of the clearing.

  “It’s right under it,” I said, and we both looked at the tree.

  “Is this just some cloaking spell?” Nate looked at the ground.

  “It’s a permanent veil.” I drew closer to the tree and put my hand on its trunk. It shimmered, sparkling with golden branches of names. “Have you seen this before?”

  “No.” Nate shook his head. “That’s impressive.”

  I found Henry’s daughter’s branch. “Here she is. Olivia Callahan. And here’s her great-great-granddaughter, Sara Callahan, Murphy’s mother.”

  “Right,” Nate stepped closer. “And look, Sara had a sister, but her branch stopped growing more than seventy years ago.”

  With the tips of my fingers, I stroked my dad’s name. “Connie and I were right here when Dad’s name appeared.”

  “What a way to find out.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. We stepped back from the tree. “Nate, will the spell work on such long distance?”

  “If I wanted to connect it to me, it probably wouldn’t. But with you it’s different. You’re connected to this place already. With your blood. And I’ll need a few drops of it to do the spell.” He glanced around. “How far from the trunk do you want me to draw the circle?”

  “No, not around the tree. If you put the barrier around the tree, it would be pretty wide, and anyone who passes by would be able to set it off. I want you to put it around the door.”

  “I thought of that, but in that case you’ll have to remove the veil. Just pointing at the spot won’t work.”

  “Give me the knife.” I held out my hand.

  Nate pulled the pocketknife out of his pocket with the shot glass.

  “Here,” he said, giving me the shot glass. “For the spell. So you don’t have to cut yourself twice.” Then he pulled open the blade. “I hate that you have to do this every freaking time,” he muttered, handing over the knife.

  As always, I bit my lip before running the blade over my palm. My blood dripped on the ground. The moment the veil vanished, Nate was sucked to the edge of the clearing and hit a tree behind him.

  “Don’t you dare to hurt him!” I shouted, looking up at the oak.

  “Well,” Nate said. “That is some protection spell.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s the spell. It’s the spirits. I knew they were watching the place, but I had no idea this would happen.”

  “How am I going to do the spell if they won’t let me in?”

  “Give me your hand.” Nate took my hand, and before pulling him into the circle, I s
houted again. “Don’t hurt him. He’s not coming into the vault. He’s here to help me.”

  We took a few steps, and nothing happened.

  “Okay,” I breathed out. “One problem solved.”

  “Nicky, you’re still bleeding,” he said, looking at my palm.

  I held it above the shot glass.

  The moment the blood covered its bottom, Nate said, “Let me heal the wound.”

  “Wait. This blood isn’t enough. The veil is only off for a limited time. To do the spell we’ll have to keep dripping blood on it so it doesn’t close.”

  I filled the shot glass with more blood, and then Nate healed my wound. We rounded the tree and he stopped, looking at the door.

  “You should check the vault first, to make sure Murphy hasn’t been here yet.”

  “Right.”

  Nate grabbed the big ring on the door and pulled.

  “The door and the veil are going to close after me,” I said, “You just wait here until I come out.”

  Nate nodded, and I went down the stone stairs. The door clicked closed and oil lamps lit up. I looked around, feeling a bit nervous. The sword was in its place, and so were Kenneth’s books. I approached the desk and checked the chest with the piece of map and the page from Joseph’s journal. I released a sigh of relief.

  “Everything is fine,” I said to Nate when I stepped out of the vault.

  “That’s great,” said Nate, chuckling.

  “What?” I stared at him.

  “I just watched you come out of the ground. It was a bit surreal and kinda funny.”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “Let’s hope no one else so that happen.”

  I took the shot glass and dripped the blood onto the earth. The veil opened again. Holding a twig ready in his hand, Nate drew a deep line, like a shallow channel around the vault door. He dripped a few drops of the blood into the channel above the door, beneath it, then on its right and left sides. Bending on one knee before the door and holding his open palm above it, he began chanting in Latin.

  “It’s done,” he said, getting up.

  I stared at the door for a moment. “How will I know if someone crosses it?”

  “You’ll feel it. In your blood. It will warm up, might even burn a little.”