by Brea Viragh
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
She survived. And used her pain and bitterness for a shield and an excuse to blame Brock for her own decision to end the relationship. As an adult with several more years under her belt, she knew how to deal with stressful situations in a more effective, logical way.
Nasira refused to be made a fool of at his hands again.
She didn’t have the heart to tell her mother what happened although the woman would surely know. Neret had the ability to sniff out details her daughter preferred to keep hidden. Sure, eventually the truth would surface. She’d question and provide unwanted comments Nasira simply did not want to hear.
Her mother’s reaction weighed on her more than she wanted to admit.
After several hours of letting her mind chase its own tail, accompanied by multiple trips to the bathroom, she finally drifted off. Sleep was anything but peaceful.
Nasira always remembered her dreams and kept a catalogue by her nightstand. Every morning she woke with those multi colored images dancing in her head and immediately wrote them down on leather bound pages.
The first things her mind conjured were a glorious retelling of the afternoon. She once more felt Brock’s hands on her hips, his tongue against her skin pushing her higher. They danced together timelessly with their bodies in synch even as the rest of them fought. In dreams, she remembered how she hated him, hated her reaction to him.
She reveled in their reunion, allowed herself to soar and recognized her feelings for what they could be. Should be. She felt a sigh spring loose from her chest before the scene shifted.
At once she was aware of the clarity. The nebulous quality in dreams where you could look around, reach out, breath deep, and wonder if it was real.
Except part of her recognized. This wasn’t a dream.
Nasira and a person she could not see but knew by name sat at a long dinner table carved from a single piece of hardwood with a live edge showing the roughness of the bark. Her hair spiraled up along the back of her head and ended in a swirl of rosebud curls at the top. The lines of her body were wrapped in spun coral woven into fabric. The soft material hugged her curves and slid across her skin like magic. She took a moment to reach out and run her fingertips along the material of her arms. She felt the touch, the contact on her skin. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Where am I?
She reached for the goblet of water beside her and raised it to her lips. Felt the liquid rush down her throat and land in her stomach.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
A strong, throaty voice echoed through the room to reverberate along every fiber of her being. It brought no fear, no confusion. Nasira had been trained to recognize the woman’s particular energy signature since birth. Although it did nothing to chase away the odd sense of vertigo gripping her and sending her head skyward.
“No, I don’t. I’m sure you will tell me,” Nasira murmured.
There was a wry chuckle from the other end of the table and a single sleek hand reached out from the shadows. “Is that any way to speak to a Goddess?”
“I don’t know any other way to speak.” Nasira thought of the days her mother woke from slumber and claimed to have the same conversation. There would be no more teasing after this. No more quiet feelings of jealousy. “You’re lucky I’m still able to manage complete sentences right now. I’m sorry.”
Sitting there opposite the ancient goddess, her knees felt weak and she was grateful for the chair.
The goddess clucked her tongue and the glimpse Nasira caught of the woman’s face appeared thoughtful. “Your mother should have better prepared you for this experience. She has had years of my counsel. She knows when to speak and when to hold her tongue.”
Nasira smiled. “Sadly, she also had a daughter who did not want to believe she was telling the truth.”
The room opened to the sky where thousands of stars sparkled in the ebony depths. Pillared candles echoed their distant fire and bathed the table in their glow.
Bast, the Egyptian goddess of the home, women’s secrets, cats, and fertility, merely nodded. She leaning forward with dusky fingers linked and a grin alighting her features. Studied Nasira silently, her claw-tipped fingers drumming on the table. “I know, child. Believe me. I have been watching you your entire life. I know your mother, your grandmother, knew the countless women born generations before your time. They are as much mine as I am yours. Faithfully. You are blessed by the Gods.”
“Now you’re trying to make me feel guilty.” Though it was surely not wise to antagonize one of the great magnates of Egypt, Nasira could not help but voice her thoughts. Bast was more than a goddess, she knew. The woman with wild, unruly hair like a lion’s mane, was the patron of the Khepri clan. And had been for generations. “I just—”
“You are strong willed, like the rest of the women in your family. I understand your reluctance to believe in the tales of old. Despite your obvious powers.” Bast pushed away from the table and stood, straightening her shoulders and moving out of the shadows.
Nasira instantly inclined her head, her breath catching in her throat. “My Devouring Lady.” The old name for the goddess fell heavily from her mouth.
Not a cat, as often depicted in legends. A woman, flesh and blood with hints of feline in her façade, her body tall and slim. Large green upturned eyes stared out from an intelligent face, pert nose and dark cinnamon colored skin accenting her obvious beauty. Those eyes were wide and piercing. The gown Bast wore wrapped around her body in layer after layer of shining black silk and draped around her curves in graceful perfection.
Gold circlets banded around her arms, the uppermost hidden beneath a wealth of tumbling black hair. A single cat of unbroken white wound around the woman’s leg before leaping up to land on the table. It sat, unblinkingly meeting Nasira’s gaze. Bast reached out for a stroke.
This was no goddess to bow before more powerful gods or men. She was a warrior, a fierce and powerful lioness, with a sweet and beautiful outside and, underneath the surface, the heart of a predator.
Nasira hastily broke the eye contact and focused once more on her water, filled with a nervous desire to fidget. Instead she brought both hands beneath the safety of her thigh and kept them there with a harsh mental reprimand.
“What I do isn’t much,” she said instead. Feeling small.
“You help the living creatures who have no voice, which is a wonderful thing, Nasira Cavaldi.”
Bast spoke softly, though her power filled the room and sent a shiver of something akin to awe through Nasira, even when she jerked in surprise at the name.
“My last name is Khepri. It has been for the last twenty-five years of my life.”
Bast softened her gaze. “It is time for you to embrace the part of yourself you’ve kept locked away.”
“I know exactly who I am.” The cat hissed restlessly, though Nasira paid it no mind. “I’ve done well enough for myself without a father, and I don’t want one at this point. I don’t have to have anything to do with him if I don’t want to.”
“That may be,” Bast began, “but he will need you.”
The cat responded automatically to some unspoken command. It moved with silent grace until it curled around the Goddess’ neck, one white paw resting tenderly against golden skin.
Nasira tried not to feel affected. Her throat tightened and she rose to scratch her suddenly itchy eyes. “I don’t care.”
“If you insist.” Bast dipped her head in a brief acknowledgment. “I see your innate stubbornness is coming into play. You are certainly one of mine. A fighter.” When she glanced over, her lips lifted in a powerful smile. The thought amused her
Nasira thought back on her years of independence. She had done all right for herself, hadn’t she? Of course she’d wanted to know about her dad. What little girl didn’t when they grew up with nothing but the promise of future information? One day, you’ll know. One day, I’ll tell you.
&nbs
p; She finally knew, and she understood the circumstances of her birth, which was more than she had before. Part of her wanted follow through and meet the man. She knew it was illogical.
“I’m not stubborn,” she found herself telling the Goddess. “At this point in my life, I know exactly where I am going. I am a powerful and independent woman.”
She clamped her mouth shut then; surely her babbling would annoy Bast, who had taken such pains to speak with her alone.
Bast moved with the ethereal grace of one who didn’t exist on mortal planes. Nasira knew then that she was lucky, exceptionally lucky, to be here.
“Nasira,” Bast began, crossing the floor on golden laced sandals. “It gladdens me to know you are strong. You will need your strength and more to face the challenges ahead of you.” She placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder and rubbed lightly.
Instead of tensing under the contact, Nasira found herself relaxing. Stress she had not been aware of left her body in a rush that left her exhausted. “Your father needs your help. I cannot tell you more, other than you will go to Chicago immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.” A single squeeze of her muscles and Bast released Nasira. The scent of sandalwood hit her along with an inscrutable something extra. Something not found outside the tombs of Egypt. It was life, magic, and the mysteries of the gods.
She hoped she would remember it once she woke up.
The cat sat still on stony shoulders and regarded Nasira with a look making it clear she needed to get it together. Its ears pricked at her, curious as to how she would proceed.
Nasira wondered if Bast would command the cat to scratch at her whenever she said something stupid.
She drew another breath and met Bast’s warm green eyes. “You say he needs me and I should leave immediately. I understand this, but not why. Why now?”
“It’s time,” Bast said firmly.
“I’m starting to really hate that answer.”
Instead of feeling insulted, Bast laughed. “It’s destiny, my darling! Nothing ever comes at the appropriate time. There is always more to life than what you think you can handle. And no, I am not reading your mind.”
Nasira clamped her lips shut and thought for a moment. She had a sneaking suspicion when Bast said more to life, she meant Brock. The whole business with her father was enough to take in. Add in the return of her teenage love and it made for a situation she wanted to ignore. “I don’t want to talk about it, not even with my mother’s goddess.”
“Your goddess. Maybe it is time for you to remember. For generations I’ve watched the women of your family and continued to stay faithful to them.”
Nasira wanted to wake up and have the whole conversation done with. Or perhaps it would be best to stay sleeping and have the hijacking goddess give her back her own subconscious.
Your goddess. It was thrilling. Her entire body lit with an electric shock at those two words. A memory long forgotten, one that didn’t belong to her, prowled through her blood and she tried to open herself up to the possibility of a new path in life. A life where she was more than she was.
You know me, Nasira, even if you don’t realize it. Bast did not speak, but the echo of her voice whispered through Nasira’s mind.
She shook her head, suddenly nervous. She spoke loudly and hoped the sound of her voice would anchor her ever changing sense of reality. “What happens if I don’t go?”
Bast sighed and moved to the seat closest to Nasira. “Then the balance of good and evil in this world will be tipped. The veil keeping our plane of existence and the world of ancient magicks, the realm where magic springs, is about to disappear. Without the veil, wild and rogue magic will slam into our world with the force of an asteroid. Those with the genetic propensity for magic will go utterly mad. Humans with latent power will be unable to control themselves. I’m sure you’ve noticed the state of the world these past months. Degenerating past the usual limits. Odd and unexplainable weather patterns?” Bast paused and Nasira nodded. “People acting differently…it’s related to the veil. And if the veil disappears, then I’m not sure your family line will survive.”
Nasira clutched her throat. “My mother?”
“I cannot say. Only that you and your man are an integral part of stopping these events from taking place.”
“You can’t be serious.” Nasira rolled her eyes towards the heaven. “I know you aren’t talking about Brock.”
“He is a part of this. His blood calls to me with the same type of elemental magic you and your family possess. You two are linked.”
“Which is something I’d rather not hear.”
Bast laughed again, the sound melodious. Her clawed hand rose to stroke the cat on her shoulders. “Well of course not! You would fight your destiny until your face turns blue. It’s the way you were made.”
“Brock is not my destiny,” Nasira insisted.
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Bast shrugged.
“Let’s go with not.”
Nasira didn’t know what else to say. If she thought about the ancient goddess next to her then the weight of everything between them became too much. Her cozy and quiet life shattered in a matter of moments. Everything she’d worked so hard to build, her list of things she wanted for herself in the future. Gone.
Or maybe not. Maybe it could be fixed with a short trip to the Midwest. A little meet and greet, hello and goodbye kind of deal and she would fulfill the desire of the ancient one. How long could it possibly take?
“The only thing I have to do is find Thorvald Cavaldi?” she asked.
“The only one,” Bast answered with a secret smile. “For now.”
“And you’re certain?”
“You question my word?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I have gone to great lengths to bring you here, to make contact. The women of your family are tied to me by blood and you dare try to ignore the invocation? To shy from the destiny fate has laid out for you?”
“I’m sorry.” Instantly contrite, Nasira felt like sinking down into the floor and turning into a great puddle.
“I want you to understand. Brock is important,” Bast corrected her. “Do not shut him out of your life. Every hero needs a guardian. His duty is to protect you.”
Nasira immediately retorted with, “I don’t need protection.”
Night lengthened around them and Bast turned her chin to the sky, at the thickening swell of clouds in their dream land. She surveyed the fire lit table before locking eyes with her feline friend. When she spoke again it was more to the shadows around them than to the woman who sat beside her. “Everyone needs protection, child. Even me. Especially should things not work out in our favor. I may be a goddess but I do not claim to be infallible.”
“It would be too much to ask.”
“Fear not. Wherever you go, you will not be alone, and you will not be bereft of aid when you ask for it.” The Goddess spoke quickly, striding away toward the opposite end of the table. Nasira struggled to keep up with her. “You don’t understand it. Rest assured, I will not allow any harm to come to you when the battle commences.”
“Battle?” Nasira gasped. “Excuse me? How will I win a battle? I’m have no power. I have a little bit of animal magic which amounts to a hill of beans in a battle.”
“You do have power!” Bast’s gaze was intense and speared through Nasira. “You have the magic of centuries running through your blood. From both sides. Believe you have the power and your soul will respond the way it is meant to respond. By finding your father, you help the Harbinger witch restore balance to the world. We must not let The One Who Walks in Darkness go free, for she will plunge the world into chaos. Already she’s growing stronger.”
Nasira rubbed her temples. “I don’t understand. What is a Harbinger witch? Who walks in the dark?”
“Know this, if nothing else in this world. You have been touched by a Goddess. Trust and you will succeed.”
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nbsp; “I promise, I will do whatever I need to do to make you proud,” she agreed after a brief hesitation. She had no choice. “I just wish you’d tell me what the hell is going on.”
Bast inclined her head in acknowledgment but said nothing further on the subject. Nasira met her eyes, and the Goddess filled her vision. The raw energy coming off of her was tangible. Suddenly, she was reminded of her mother. She recognized in Bast the same protective nature. A wildcat with her cub who would do anything to ensure their survivor. The maternal instincts and strength of an immortal.
“So, what do you need me to do?” Nasira asked.
“Are you a child? Do I have to lead you by the hand?” Bast sighed in frustration. “I’ve told you already. Start by finding your father and the rest will unfold in due time. Your purpose is to protect the balance, Nasira Cavaldi. Protect the balance or you will condemn us to the fire.”
She was close enough to touch. Bast reached out to squeeze her hand firmly before pulling her into an embrace. Nasira was enveloped by the rich, earthy scent of jasmine and sandalwood.
“Farewell, dear heart. My blessings are with you. Use your instincts, and your magic will follow. Don’t stop, even when she tries to hinder you. And she will try.”
Nasira was almost surprised by the gentleness of the words. She felt the threads of reality pulling at her even as a sliver of fear worked its way up her spine. She opened her mouth for a final word to her goddess and found no sound formed in her throat. The breath left her in a rush and her mouth felt dry.
Around her, the dream faded until all she could see was the hint of a lovely smile. The glint of unearthly green eyes in the darkness.
CHAPTER 7
Nasira woke well rested, which was a huge surprise. Her eyes blinked open and she stared at the cracks in her ceiling, light growing strong on the other side of her curtains. Up before the sun fully rose. It figured.
The echo of her subconscious conversation played out in her mind and soon she struggled to roll onto her side, grabbing a pen and her notebook. Soon the details filled out on the page before her in neat, tidy black script. She wondered what her mom would make of it when she found out.