He wasn’t lying—at least, not as far as he was concerned. It was possible he was just misinformed and believed what he was saying.
If he wasn’t, though…
“Peitr,” Bailey breathed. “Son of a… damn it.” She jabbed a finger at Wheeler. “You go to the Bakery, now. Tell Aria how to cure the poison. If you don’t, and that woman dies, I’m done, and I will throw all of your people out of my town. And I mean that literally, Wheeler.”
“Where are you going?” Wheeler demanded.
“To save Xavier Cleary,” Bailey sighed. And accept a big fat I-told-you-so from Chloe and Frances.
Chapter 32
Lauren Cleary paced her living room, waiting. Doug sat on the couch, but she could tell he was just as anxious. They were different like that—they always had been. Lauren needed to move when she was worried. Doug always just got very quiet, and still. Xavier was the same way; he took after his father. Both their sons did.
“I wish they’d told us how long it was going to take,” Lauren said.
“Maybe they don’t know,” Doug muttered. “It’s magic, right? Not… chemistry, or… something.”
They were both out of their depth. She’d tried to cajole the… spirit… thing… out of the hearth again, but whatever the slavic man had done to get its attention was more than just cream and cheese.
She checked the time again. “The man said after sunrise. The sun’s been up for almost half an hour.”
“He didn’t say at sunrise,” Doug pointed out. “Maybe we should try to…”
He didn’t finish. Neither of them were going to be able to rest. Lauren was practically having an out of body experience—she felt as if she were watching her self pace instead of actually doing it.
Just as she decided to sit on the couch by her husband, taking the only comfort she thought she might possibly get, however, the doorbell rang.
Both of them practically raced to answer it.
Lauren arrived first, and flung the door open.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the short, bearded man there holding an archaic looking bronze vase of some sort. “It’s you.… are we… is it time?”
“Yes,” Peitr said. He smiled. “Is time.”
Once he was inside, he was quick. Some muttered words, a bit of cheese, and the domovoi slinked out of the hearth quietly and, somehow, managed to fit itself inside the brass vessel, despite the fact that it was several times larger and shouldn’t have been able to.
“So, now what?” Lauren asked. She and Doug had busied themselves putting on their shoes and coats. “Do we just… follow you?”
Peitr shook his head, and carefully handed her the vessel. “Careful. Do not drop. It will speak. Point you the right way.”
“Great,” Doug breathed. “Let’s go.”
“Ah,” Peitr said, raising a finger. “Not so. Only mother. Domovoi is… shy. Likes mother, will talk if it is only her and me. You stay, wait. We bring boy back to you. My word, yes?”
“It’s okay,” Lauren said when Doug opened his mouth to argue. “I’ll go. We’ll find him. If this is what it takes, Doug…”
Doug deflated, his face pained. But he nodded. “Fine. Be careful. And call me when you find him. Okay?”
“All will be well,” Peitr assured him. “Soon, it will all be very good.”
Lauren followed Peitr outside, and at his instruction she held the brass vessel up to her ear. There was a whisper from inside. Not quite words, she thought, but she understood them somehow. “It says… that way.” She pointed, off toward the west end of town.
“Good,” Peitr said. He clapped his hands once. “We go.”
Lauren nodded, and led the way, Peitr plodding along behind her. It was surreal; impossible, even. And terrifying. She held a spirit in her hands! Magic… witchcraft… creatures that lived in your hearth. Once this was done, Lauren and her family were leaving Coven Grove. That much was sure.
It was just getting to be too weird, and too dangerous to stay.
Chapter 33
Chloe?
Bailey’s voice brought Chloe out of sleep, and at first she looked around for the source.
Chloe, I need you.
Ah. Chloe closed her eyes and reached out to find Bailey’s questing mind. Her daughter’s voice became clearer when she grasped the mental hand. Panic flowed across the connection. Bailey? What’s wrong?
Where’s Peitr? Bailey asked. He duped us. I think he might have been the one to take Xavier.
Chloe shot out of bed and rushed to get dressed. He was supposed to get us when he prepared a vessel for the domovoi. Long story. It’s supposed to lead us to the boy.
Bailey’s anger was infectious, and Chloe had to shield herself from the emotional bleed. You have to calm down. Are you close to the Clearys?
I can be, Bailey sent. Meet me there.
Chloe dressed, and then turned back to the bed. “Leander,” she said. “Ander! Wake up. Bailey needs us.”
They arrived at the Clearys’ house to find Bailey already coming down the steps of the porch, a panicked Doug Cleary behind her. “He told me I couldn’t go with them,” Doug said. “You brought this man to my house!”
Bailey’s face was red, and seeing Chloe and Leander didn’t seem to help it. “We’ll bring them both back safe,” Bailey called without looking back. “I don’t have time to assign blame and neither do you.”
She stopped when she was close to Chloe and Leander. “I have a bead on Peitr’s magic, there was a… taint, at the hearth where he worked before. How did this happen?”
“Warlocking is secretive and little understood,” Leander said. “No one could have known.”
“Any idea what he could be planning?” Bailey asked. She waved them on. “He’s headed west, toward the ocean.”
“No,” Leander said. “Not the ocean. The Caves. He’d have to be. There’s a crack in the worlds there. If I were to guess, he came here to take advantage of it.”
“Advantage? How?” Chloe asked.
Leander opened Chloe’s door for her, giving her just a tickle of out-of-place stomach flutters. “Warlocks are limited in what they can summon. Normally, only creatures of the near astral. If he can crack open the barrier between worlds, though…”
“He can call up whatever he can get his hooks into,” Chloe breathed.
“And bringing it through would be disastrous,” Leander agreed.
“Then that won’t happen,” Bailey said.
Neither Chloe nor Leander dared argue with her. They sped toward the Caves, and Chloe felt Bailey’s mind as it reached out, possibly calling for backup. There was a coldness to Bailey’s emotions that made Chloe nervous, and she quietly reached out to Leander’s mind, to the small opening in his wards that was just for her.
There’s something wrong with Bailey, Chloe sent. She’s… I don’t know, exactly. But I’m worried she might do something she can’t come back from.
Leander’s alarm was tempered and calm. She has us with her. It will be okay, Cushla.
She knew he meant it in earnest, at least believing it, but the truth was that if Bailey wanted to cross a line then Chloe would be hard pressed to stop her. Anyone would be.
“Frances is meeting us,” Bailey said. “And she found Aiden, but no one can find Avery.”
“He’ll be out waiting for the portal,” Leander said. “They’re expected soon. I had a brief call an hour or so ago, before we laid down.”
“We?” Bailey asked.
Chloe couldn’t have hidden her feelings from Bailey at this point if she’d been trying, and she wasn’t just then.
Bailey glanced at Chloe, and then at Leander. “Well, that’s… good. I’m glad. For the two of you.”
Neither of Bailey’s parents responded. Deep down, Chloe harbored a flicker of a hope that maybe, once this was all over, they might be something like… a family. If Bailey sensed that hope in her, though, she didn’t say or react to it.
They
had to park down the street from the tour office, and when they did they flew out of the car, and Bailey led the race to the sidewalk and then down into the parking lot and on—to the sloped path down to the Caves.
Frances joined them, along with Aiden, just past the office.
“What’s going on?” Aiden asked. “Frances says the warlock has gone mad?”
“Not mad,” Chloe said. “He’s been playing us.”
“It’s my fault,” Bailey said, “I should have—”
There was a shudder in the world, and all five of them stumbled to a halt. It wasn’t an earthquake, at first. It was a silent crack of power, sharp and resounding, as of some astral hammer striking a dimensional anvil.
“Oh, no,” Bailey breathed, and Chloe felt the dread like it was her own—and then it was. “The breach. We’re… we’re too late.”
Chapter 34
Lauren frowned at the entrance to the Seven Caves. “It says… he’s in there.”
“Then, we go,” Peitr said. “Strange place to take boy.”
“It’s… this is where the witches fought the… monster,” Lauren said. “Do you think it could have been them?”
“Do not know,” Peitr told her. “But if boy is inside, then we go, yes?”
Lauren didn’t need to think about the answer to that. She strode forward into the dark Cave. “Xavier?” Her voice echoed through the Cavern. “It’s Mom. Xavier? Are you here, baby?”
She had to take out her phone and use the light to see her way. Even with a bit of illumination, though, she stumbled twice and had to clutch the brass vessel against her chest to keep from dropping it.
The strange, creepy writing on the wall seemed to move as the light played over the ancient paintings, and it made her stomach queasy. “I don’t see how he can be here,” she said. “Aren’t the witches in and out of this place all the time?”
“Don’t know,” Peitr said. “Only following domovoi. Keep going. We find. Domovoi knows.”
They came to the final Cave, and Lauren shined her light around the cavern. There were melted candle stubs around the place, and footprints in the fine dust on the floor, but no sign of Xavier.
“He’s not here,” she said, her voice harsh. “It said he was here, Peitr!”
“Place vessel on floor,” Peitr instructed calmly. “Open lid. You will see. Domovoi show.”
Nervously, Lauren followed his instructions. The idea of seeing the strange little creature in this dark place made her skin crawl, but that was nothing compared to the mortal fear of losing her son. She knelt, and placed the brass pot on the floor of the Cave. Carefully, as if there was some boiling liquid inside that she didn’t wish to burn herself on, she pried the lid loose and set it to one side. Then she stepped quickly back from it.
The creature climbed out of the opening like a spider, coming into view as if from a great distance. It had a slightly different look, now—scaled instead of hairy. It’s face had no mouth or eyes.
Worse… it wasn’t alone. It dragged something—no, someone—behind it and drew them out of the vessel as well.
“What…? Xavier?”
“As I say,” Peitr said from behind her. “You find boy. And all will be very, very good.”
The creature from the vessel laid her son on the floor of the Cave. Lauren turned to confront Peitr, filled with the rage of a cornered mother. He was waiting, though, one hand before his face, palm up. He blew, and something gritty blinded Lauren, and burned her sinuses, and then her throat and lungs. Thick, cloying darkness descended on her, and she stumbled. Something caught her, and lowered her to the ground.
The last thing she heard before she went under completely was a guttural language, spoken with a rhythmic cadence that seemed to lull her senses and calm her thoughts. Then there was nothing.
Chapter 35
Aria, Sonya, and Alkina worked furiously to keep Rhonda Peeler alive. Curing her was, so far, beyond their ability. Whatever the poison was, it was specifically proof against direct magical healing. It made sense, though Aria couldn’t imagine what it was made of.
The door to the work room opened, and she looked up expecting to see more witches who had perhaps more specialized abilities.
Instead, she saw Richard Wheeler.
They stared at one another. Aria tensed. If she had to defend these witches against him, Rhonda would die. The decision didn’t take long to make—if Rhonda were awake, and had to choose herself or her daughters, there was little doubt in Aria’s mind what she would choose.
“What do you want?” Aria demanded. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“Peace,” Wheeler sighed. “I had a visit from your… leader.”
“Bailey,” Aria breathed. “And?”
Wheeler stared at Rhonda for a moment, and then looked over at Mary and Simone. He sighed, and looked back the door. “And… you can’t cure the witch with magic. She’s hot?”
Aria nodded. “Yellow fingernails, a purple line down the middle of her tongue, and bloodshot eyes.”
“Has she been twitching?” Wheeler asked.
Aria shook her head. “Completely still. And slipping away fast.”
Wheeler nodded, and then dug in his pocket for a flat leather case. He opened it, and then retrieved a thin vial of some black liquid. “Pour this in the wound. If she’s strong… she’ll recover. It’ll take time.”
“How can we trust him?” Simone asked. She brushed tears from her eyes and glared at Wheeler. “Wasn’t it his people that did this?”
Aria didn’t know the answer to that, but she suspected that Bailey had motivated Wheeler. “If we don’t,” Aria said, “then we can’t save your mother. Either way—at this point I’m afraid there’s nothing to lose, Simone. But she’s your mother. It’s up to you and Mary. I’ll do what you want.”
Mary and Simone looked at one another for a long moment, and came to some agreement without having to speak.
“Alright,” Simone said. “Okay. We’ll try it.”
Wheeler passed Aria the vial, and Aria gingerly removed the cork. As before, she had the girls move Rhonda’s arm so that she could reach the wound. She tipped the vial slowly, pouring a bit at a time and urging the living tissues to drink the fluid as she did. Bit by bit, the substance sank into the wound.
“Now we wait,” Aria said. She gave Wheeler a warning glance. “If you’ve lied…”
“Your Miss Robinson has made it very clear,” Wheeler said. He rubbed his wrist.
All five witches, experienced and young alike, felt the sudden shudder. Aria and Alkina perhaps felt it more than the rest. The fabric of the astral world rippled like a gong, silent but nonetheless booming.
Alkina was the first to recover. “What… in all the worlds was that?”
Aria felt a cold thread of fear knit her stomach tightly to her spine, and shuddered. “Trouble,” she whispered. “Oh no… the breach…”
“The breach?” Wheeler asked, alarmed. “What? What’s going on?”
“What’s going on,” Aria said, “is that this day just got a great deal worse. And we’re not ready for it.”
Chapter 36
Avery paced the woods impatiently, checking his watch every few seconds. It was unclear whether there would be any temporal distortion in transit—just because there was, subjectively, no time lost from one end of a portal to the other didn’t mean that no objective time passed. At least, in theory.
And there were something like twenty theorems at work in the portal attempt. Now that Coven Grove was apparently lit up like a lighthouse to the rest of the magical world, and there were a significant number of connected artifacts at either end—the keystones, all calling to one another—this would make for the first portal cast in something like five hundred years. No one available actually had experience with creating portals.
All of that made Avery very, very nervous, and now it seemed that the wizards and their passengers—including the artifacts critical to Bailey’s plans—were late
. By almost half an hour.
He killed them running through the patch spell he’d been working out with Leander. Well… it had started that way, in any case. The idea had been to find a means to put a stronger seal on the barrier, just in the event that they needed to. It had evolved from that point as the two of them argued over what would or wouldn’t work—and what could be trusted to work versus what neither of them were certain about. Now, it was more of an interdiction spell, creating a kind of dissonance inside the breach that would prevent anything from crossing through it.
Well… again, in theory. That was getting to be a serious problem in Avery’s eyes. Too much theory, not enough solid, dependable principle. The more and more theoretical magic was involved, and unable to be really tested until it was critically necessary that it work, the higher the likelihood someone had forgotten or overlooked something, somewhere.
At this point, they couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong. The last thing Avery wanted was to be personally responsible for the end of the world. Though, he supposed, if he was, he wouldn’t be guilty about it for very long. He’d be dead.
At least, he hoped, in a strange way.
Distantly, he felt his wards tremble. The sound of a tiny bell chiming reached him next, a phantom sound that only he would hear. In a flash, his wand was in his hand. Heuristics came next, a kind of color coded reflection of intention and magical natures, tinting the world briefly in a patchwork of watercolor as the wards fed his mind the information along accessible sensory pathways. It was disorienting—but he read no aggression in the aura of the interloper. In fact, he read just the opposite.
Still, he waited, perfectly still, and focused on sounds. There, some way off to the south, was the cautious crunch of wet leaves, barely audible—but during this time of year only something as big as a person would make any real noise.
Witching for a Miracle (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 7) Page 15