by Brea Viragh
“I know this is uncomfortable for you, but I’m taking half of the bed. It’s been a long day for me, too.”
Brock thought about Callie and the fact that he hadn’t gotten to speak to her in over twelve hours. Since she’d been born, he’d never been apart from her for longer than a few hours at most. He tried not to consider the separation as a kind of torture, but his throat clogged. His eyes itched and there was a lump in his throat.
“You’re not sleeping in the bed,” Nasira warned. “It’s a queen and I need to starfish.”
“Starfish?”
“It means I spread out. Limbs stretched in four directions. This is a queen-sized mattress and I’m not used to sleeping with someone else. I don’t want you so close to me.”
“Well, I’m not used to sleeping with anyone either,” he said, letting himself drop with a sigh. “I’m having a difficult time right now and I probably won’t sleep anyway, but I don’t want it to be on a floor. I’m sorry.” He was apologizing for a lot, lately. Too bad this was non-negotiable.
Something in his voice must have caught her attention. She sat up, and he glanced over and saw she was wearing a baggy nightshirt with her alma mater’s logo written across the front. “What’s wrong? You look stressed.”
“More than usual? It’s nothing. I miss my daughter,” he admitted. “It’s difficult when you’re the primary care giver. Somehow you bend and warp your life around their wants and needs. Their schedule. I’ve spent every night with her since she came home from the hospital and now I’m not there. I didn’t even get to talk to her on the phone. Nan already put her to bed and told me I was out of luck.”
He felt a hand fall on his shoulder. It lingered for a moment before disappearing back into the fold of blankets. “Do you…do you want to talk to me about it?”
“Do you actually care?” Brock swallowed a scoff. “It’s not like you want to hear about my problems. You’ve made it pretty clear to me you’d rather stick a rusty fork in your ear than listen.”
She sighed. “I might not want to hear about you and other women. I mean, honestly, if it were me, would you want to listen to me talk about other men I’ve slept with?”
“Hell no.”
“Exactly. But, well, you’ve been here this whole time helping me deal with my shit. I think an ear is the least I owe you. I’d like to hear more about your daughter.”
“You must really be tired to offer. Still, I’m going to take you up on it. I’m just not sure what you want me to tell you.” He couldn’t help the secret smile. It was progress. A tiny step in the direction he wanted for them.
“Anything you want. Anything that will help your mind clear.” The words cost her. Still, she offered them. It was enough for now.
They sat and spoke to each other with an open honesty he didn’t think possible since their breakup. It was refreshing, he thought, a glimpse of the two people they used to be without the teenage hang-ups. He was able to tell Nasira about Ruby and their tumultuous relationship with only the slightest snarl on her part. He chalked it up to exhaustion. He told Nasira about his fears and hopes when he found out they were going to have a baby. His fears and hopes when he realized he needed to move back home for his peace of mind. To make a better life for himself and his child. And how crushed he felt when Ruby was nowhere to be found. She didn’t care what happened to him or Callie. It was heartbreaking.
When his eyes felt heavy, and when his shoulders drooped from exhaustion, Nasira made room for him on the other side of the bed. He was out within seconds. Unburdened for the first time in a long time.
She listened to the sounds of Brock breathing. It was comforting even when his nearness did strange things to her heart. A spontaneous arrhythmia. It must be. She’d never had any problems with the damn thing before.
It was something she should look into for sure. When she got home, she would have to schedule an MRI to get to the bottom of the problem.
She swiveled her legs around to the side of the bed and spared a glance at Brock over her shoulder. Moonlight crept in through the front window and illuminated his lips. Those full lips she knew would feel so soft against hers. He looked like a prince when he slept. A male version of Sleeping Beauty where one kiss could draw him out of the spell and they would live together in harmony and love until the end of their days.
Her face soured. There was no such thing as fairy tale endings.
Since it was clear Brock wasn’t going anywhere, there was no use in avoiding him. And she accepted it. After everything that happened over the last few days, what she’d learned, she had to accept that Brock was part of the bigger picture. He’d been meant to come back.
Maybe he’d be useful.
There was a good head on his shoulders. His mind picked up on details and filed them away for later inspection. She hated to admit it, but it was true.
Sleep wouldn’t come to her easily. Her mind ran a marathon and her limbs refused to lie still. It was pointless to stay in the room when her body wanted to move. Wanted to run, even though she didn’t know where and she couldn’t say how far it would take to calm her.
The talk had been nice, though.
While the others slept, Nasira crept through the house and out the back door, standing outside watching the moon. Knowing in a few days it would be full and sleeping beneath the earth’s shadow. How had she gotten here? How had she come so far in so little time?
She felt filthy. Exhausted. And maybe, for the first time, a little excited.
The thought brought a round of guilt she hadn’t expected. She had no right to be excited. She also felt a profound sense of duty toward these people, along with moral outrage that someone—something—was trying to take this away from them.
Morgan came up behind her making sure to stomp his feet in announcement of his arrival. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“How could you possibly know?” She jumped and tried to hide her reaction. Not used to having people around. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, tried telling herself to get a grip. Wondering if she would follow her own advice.
“I’ve been inside your head. God of Dreams, remember?” Morgan tapped his temple like every bit of knowledge about the human condition was lodged there. “That and I know a wistful expression when I see one. I can put two and two together in this case.”
She nodded in approval. “My original assessment of you was right.”
“Oh, yes? What was it?”
“You can be a know-it-all.”
Morgan threw back his head and laughed, moonlight glinting off the gray at his temples. It highlighted his bookish appeal. “An accurate assessment! Bravo. You are Cavaldi through and through,” he retorted.
She sobered instantly. “I’m not sure how I feel about being a Cavaldi. It’s an adjustment. I need a few more years to process. For the first twenty-five of my life I’ve been a Khepri, and you know what? I liked it. I slept better at night.”
“Well, there might be a steep learning curve, but you’ll get there.”
“Maybe not fast enough.”
Morgan turned to her. “I know today was rough, and I know your initial reaction was shock and disbelief.”
“Wouldn’t yours be?”
“I’ve seen too much, I’m sorry to say. I’ve become a bit jaded.” He adjusted his glasses. “However, most people are not demi gods. I am better equipped to handle these types of situations.”
“I’m not allowed to feel jaded.” Nasira turned her head to take in the night sky again. “Too young, my mom says. She also tells me veterinarians are the type of people who stay rooted in reality and optimism.”
“Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman.”
The thought warmed her. “She is, yes.”
“You miss her.”
“I do. More than anything. She’s all I’ve known since I was born.” Nasira glanced down at her hands. “I don’t want anyone to think she’s a bad person for, you know, sleeping with a married man.
She’s a great lady. The best mom possible.”
“The girls…” Morgan paused. “I want you to know. They aren’t insensitive to your plight. They understand even if they won’t tell you. There’s too much on the agenda for them to fully explore their feelings at the moment.”
Her face twisted in a sarcastic smile. “Making excuses for them?”
Morgan didn’t seem to take offense. “Clearing the air,” he said with a chuckle.
She felt small. Like she didn’t bring much to the table. She’d come to look for her father, and she’d stayed hoping to offer her services to people who really seemed to need them. She wasn’t comfortable with the tables flipped.
No matter how many times she told herself to get a grip, it wasn’t coming easy.
“You’re quiet,” she said for lack of anything better, the quiet stretching on. “I never hear you come into a room. It can be a little disconcerting.”
“Yes, I’ve been told. It’s part of my nature. Next time I’ll try to remember to announce myself.”
It wasn’t cockiness or attitude. From the look on his face, Morgan would genuinely make the effort. He was the quintessential professor. His entire capacity for thought taken up by things outside of her comprehension.
“Anyway, don’t spend too much time staring at the stars,” he said. “In the morning we’re going to work on our magic.”
“Magic? What, like practice tests? You’ve got to be kidding.” Nasira was skeptical.
“I never kid about staying alive. You’re going to need every skill you can cultivate before the end. The good thing? You have three powerful witches and a half god to help you. The One Who Walks in Darkness is an immortal. It would be sheer stupidity to leave you unprepared. In order to properly prepare you,” he continued, “we need to see what you can and cannot do. It’s simple.”
“You need to test my limits,” Nasira replied bitterly.
“Try not to think about it as a test. I understand how it would make you nervous or anxious or even angry.” Morgan smiled at her. “It’s simply a way to make sure we are prepared before the eclipse. Our time is ticking down quickly.”
She spared another look at the moon. Soon it would be full, then it would disappear behind the earth’s shadow. She shivered. “It’s going faster than it’s ever moved before.”
CHAPTER 13
Three days to the eclipse…
Morning came swiftly, and Nasira was both astonished and revolted to wake up snuggled against Brock with his arm tucked around her waist. She must have broken down once she finally fell asleep. Her body had betrayed her! Turncoat.
Scrambling up, she moved to the edge of the bed and used her forearm to toss her hair over her shoulder. Her stomach was in knots. She moved to her bag and brought out a fresh change of clothes, trying to force her head to clear. There was no room in there to focus on Brock and the way her body responded to him. She didn’t want him there, anyway. Bad enough she let him sleep in the same bed. A mistake, she thought for the millionth time.
Just like thinking they could be friends when it was clear neither one of them was ready.
Nope, it was better not to focus on Brock.
It was magic drill day. Nothing quite helped open you up to strangers like proving your mettle, she mused.
It would have been nice to use the day as a fresh start. To do whatever she felt she needed to be doing to find her father and get home. Or maybe be really selfish and spend a few hours in bed without getting dressed. The idea of a whole day in pajamas appealed to her.
She hadn’t had a completely lazy day since her first semester in college. There was always something else to do, something else to capture her attention. Then she felt guilty for even thinking about taking a day for herself.
Her mother would be ashamed of her.
Maybe a little physical action could spark her mental acumen. A few more working brain cells would be good for solving the mystery of Thorvald’s disappearance and helping the others find a way to…what? Stop the veil from breaking apart? Stop their dark villain? She still wasn’t sure.
Nasira worked better with a plan. Something solid she could wrap her mind around and use to focus her energy.
She shoved her old clothes aside, vowing to fold them later, and went to the door. She decided at the last minute to let Brock sleep. The man probably never got to have a morning to himself anymore. A few extra hours of shut eye would do him good.
Wait, what was wrong with her? Actually caring about Brock’s sleep schedule? She admonished herself harshly. This was not conducive to backing away.
After a light breakfast and lighter conversation, they stood together, quartered in Morgan’s small backyard with stones drawn around them for protection. Protection and a field to muffle their sound and keep them from being seen.
“Aren’t your neighbors going to see us?” Nasira pointed to the other side of the duplex, the deck area cordoned off into two sections by a panel of privacy fence, although the yard was shared.
Morgan shook his head. “Snowbirds. They go down to Florida for the winter. They won’t be back until May at the latest. Right now, it’s just us.”
She preferred it that way.
“There are several key players you need to know about,” Aisanna called out, rubbing her hands together against the slight chill. Her breath came out in a white puff. “The Claddium, specifically Orestes Voltaire and Zelda Vuur. And the two elementals for Light and Dark.”
“Vane and Cecilia,” Nasira repeated from memory. They’d told her the story yesterday.
Aisanna paused and thought about Orestes. Remembering the gleeful look on his face when he’d cornered her in her botanical shop last month. “Which means we need to find out what your magic is and help you cultivate it. Fast. We’ve moved beyond the point of an offensive strike. We’re full on defensive. You ready?”
The three sisters raised their arms in the air and stood in a circle. Nasira hung back and watched them, wondering if they were going to force her to fight one of them. Alarm skipped through her blood. Herbs grew out of the ground around Karsia and Aisanna’s feet and a tingling heat spread out around them.
Her mind recognized the plants, which added to the strange feeling inside of her.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Nasira’s voice dropped to a hissing whisper and she turned to Morgan. A calm port in a turbulent sea.
He patted her on the head. “Nothing to worry about, dear. You’ll be fine. They’re warding the yard for your protection. One of the spells from their ancestor’s books.”
Nasira swallowed. “Tell me more about the two people from the Claddium.”
“Orestes is the head of the Earth Elementals for the Great Lakes. Zelda is the head for the Fire Elementals. Both seem to be impacted by rogue magic and have their targets set on us.”
“What about Air and Water?”
“So far, none of them have come sniffing around and didn’t demolish our house. I’ll let you know when I find out more.”
Ah, so the Claddium was responsible for the damage to the mansion. It made sense now, why the striking gray stone Tudor looked like someone had dropped a bomb.
With the warding spell complete, Astix walked to the opposite side of the yard and set an empty bottle down on a shard of rock she conjured from the ground. “Okay, here’s what we know so far.” She stared at Nasira. “Our father’s magic is earth. He and I have an ability called gem calling. Your mother is descended from ancient Egyptian priestesses for Bast. Which means your magic most likely comes from her. Although who knows, you could be a combo kind of girl. At this point, it wouldn’t be unheard of. I’ll never say never again.”
Karsia leaned in close to Nasira and said softly, “The gender lines thing. You could be like Astix.”
“Gotcha.”
“Tell me more about Bast,” Astix said. “What is she known for?”
Nasira had to search her brain to remember what Neret told her. “Um, Bast is an a
ncient goddess, I know. She transformed over time from a lioness warrior deity into a major protector deity represented as a cat. She had two titles, The Lady of Dread and The Lady of Slaughter. Later she became the Egyptian goddess of the home, domesticity, women’s secrets, cats, fertility, and childbirth. She became The Light Bearer and the Lady of Truth.”
“Which gives us literally nothing to go on. Unless we plan on making Darkness fertile,” Astix put in, only half joking.
Despite the numerous conversations, Nasira still had zero idea what kind of magic she might wield through her connection. Maybe she could claim serious battle magic, if Lady of Slaughter was any title to go by. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She was a healer, not a soldier.
“I wish I could tell you more. The goddess was an important part of our household growing up but magic wasn’t really discussed. Once a month Mom and I recite prayers for healing and protection. Beyond the family get togethers where we dance until dawn and dress in red, I don’t have more useful information.”
“Sensual dancing?” Morgan put in.
Nasira bestowed him with a smile. “Some say the priestesses of Bast were the first strippers.”
“You’re a vet,” Aisanna mused, trying not to laugh. “You work with animals and Bast is a cat goddess. Maybe your affinity has something to do with wildlife. Felines in general? Lions specifically? I wonder if there’s any good way to know for certain.”
“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to.” Nasira shrugged. She was worse than hopeless.
“Let’s just try something, okay? See if you can hit the bottle? Your power stems from the earth, I know, so in some incarnation you should be able to summon enough energy to hit it.” To demonstrate, Astix held out her hand. Without looking, a stone projectile formed in the open air and hovered below her outstretched palm. It zipped across space and shattered the bottle half a second later.
“And there goes glass shards in my yard,” Morgan complained, his hands moving to his hips. He looked like a bookish version of the jolly green giant. Only less jolly and less green and less giant.