A Family Oath

by Auburn Tempest

  The chiming of the brass bell makes my heart jump, and I tense—which is cray-cray because I’m in a bookstore and we’re open.

  “Hey, Fi.” Emmet emerges from the center aisle. “Has your day gotten any better? How’s Mr. Tree doing?”

  “Myra’s brother is in with him now. We won’t disturb them. Are you good to stay for a while?”

  “I’m all yours until you’re ready to go home.” My brother looks good in his police uniform. He’s only been on the job for a few months as the newest and last Cumhaill boy to join the Toronto Police Department, but it comes to him as naturally as it does the others.

  That’s how I knew it wasn’t for me. I could do the work. I know the laws almost as thoroughly as they do, but the idea of toeing the line of procedure rubs me the wrong way more often than not. I’m not good with “have to.”

  So much so that if you tell me I have to do “XYZ,” you can guarantee I’ll do “ABC.”

  “Are you still planning on going to the pub for Liam’s birthday toast tonight?”

  I scrub my hands through my hair and groan. “Damn, I forgot. What time are we supposed to meet?”

  “Dillan’s off work at eight, so I told Auntie Shannon around nine. If you’re bagged, you can skip it. I’m sure he’ll understand. After the day you’ve had—”

  “No, no. Of course, I’m going. I refuse to let druid drama pull me out of Liam’s and Auntie Shannon’s orbit entirely. I’m Irish, after all. I can pull myself together for a few drinks at the pub.”

  Emmet smiles, but it’s strained. “Fi, someone attacked you in your workplace. Permit yourself to be shaken up about that.”

  “Oh, I am. As bad as it sounds, I’m getting used to shit like this. Still, I’m scared for Myra, and my mind is wandering in every direction.”

  He opens his palms. “What can I do to help?”

  “There is something.” I think about finding poor Murphy lying dead and faceless in the back and feel bad before I even suggest it. “Da told you that it was our delivery guy who got the dark magic blast to the face, yeah?”

  “He mentioned you knew him. That sucks big.”

  “It does. Well, Garnet called the company, and they’re sending someone over to pick up the truck after four. I wonder if he got killed before or after he unloaded our order. The shipping manifest I found on the desk says three boxes, but there was only one. I think he got killed before he brought in the other two.”

  Emmet flashes me a crooked smirk. “You want to make sure you get all the boxes the dead guy came to deliver?”

  “Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. I’m thinking about it more like busywork is good for a troubled mind. Menial tasks free up the subconscious. I’m carrying the baton in the face of disaster. Also, we think they might’ve attacked Myra because of a book, so I should be thorough.”

  Emmet shrugs. “Okay, I’ll go see what I can find.”

  He trundles off toward the delivery bay at the back and my phone rings. I check the screen and answer. “Dora, I’m so glad you called me back.”

  “Cookie. What can I do? How’s Myra?”

  “No change. I wondered about having a reading. Maybe the cards will pick up something and give us a direction. We have an idea of what might’ve happened, and I want to talk to you about it. Fair warning, it would deal with your past life.”

  There’s a long pause. Then she makes an impatient sound. “All right, then. I just got back from serving lunch next door at the soup kitchen. Give me ten minutes to change, and I’ll grab my deck. Are you still at the emporium?”

  “I am. Thank you.”

  “One thing you learn over a long life is that when troubled times hit, you gotta raise the bar. Anything you need to ask me to help Myra, I’ll do my best to answer.”

  I let out a deep breath and feel a little better. “Thanks again. I’ll see you soon.”

  Emmet returns with a two-wheel dolly stacked with two more boxes. “Ask, and ye shall receive. Where do you want me to put these?”

  I point at the empty floor beside me behind the customer counter. “Thanks, Em.”

  “No problem. Can I get you to sign here, please?” He hands me an electronic pad and points at the stylus.

  I chuckle and do as he asks before handing it back.

  “Who were you on the phone with when I came in?”

  “Pan Dora. She’s coming over to do a Tarot reading with me to see if we can pick up a lead on Myra’s attacker.”

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Pan Dora arrives, Emmet is bringing the cafe table from the kitchenette into the store so we can do a reading and still watch the storefront. Thankfully, the emporium is relatively quiet for a Saturday. Most customers come to either speak to Myra personally or to pick up something specific. We don’t get a lot of lookie-loo browsers.

  “Fiona.” Dora rushes in, her boot heels clacking on the old, hardwood floors. “Tell me everything from the start. What happened?”

  I’m about to lay it all out there again but stop.

  “I’d like to see what the cards say first.” It’s not that I don’t believe in Dora’s talents in interpreting the magical universe’s messages. I want to see what an uninfluenced reading gives us.

  “It’s your dime, baby. Whatever cranks your handle.”

  The two of us sit, and I put Emmet on duty to watch the store so we won’t be interrupted.

  She pulls her well-worn deck from a black velvet bag with silk ties. “All right, do you remember how this goes? While I shuffle, I want you to focus on what you need to know. Then we’ll pull the spread and see what the cards have to tell us. Yes?”

  “Yeah, all good.”

  While Dora shuffles her deck, I focus on the backs of the cards and try to connect. I study the triple goddess moon symbol glowing against the galaxy pattern of constellations. My mind is solely on Myra and how to help her.

  Who did this to her? Is it about the Eochair Prana?

  Dora finishes shuffling, lays the cards face down, and fans them in front of me in a skillful and smooth arc. “Now, point out nine cards that hold energy for you, in any order, and I’ll draw them from the deck.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t get to pick them herself?” Emmet asks.

  “No, cookie. Some Tarot masters allow others to touch their cards, but not me. I have an intimate trust and flow of communication built up with my deck, and I don’t allow anyone else’s energy to influence them more than what’s done in the reading itself.”

  As before, I stare at the deck and the card I’m meant to pick practically vibrates on a frequency that sings to me. “I’m not sure if the magic is coming through stronger this time because I know what to expect or maybe I’m tapping into the fae juju better this time, but yeah, I know exactly which cards I’m supposed to pick.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Dora says. “Lead the way.”

  I point at the first card, then rinse and repeat from my second through to the ninth. In my mind’s eye, a warm glow comes off the card each time I’m supposed to select one. I move through the deck, focused on Myra, and indicate which card I’m supposed to choose one by one.

  When I finish, Dora lays them out in the spread and turns over the first card.

  “The Chariot. The Chariot indicates a time for overcoming obstacles. It foretells challenges, tests, and crises popping up. There will be plenty of fires to put out. The environment around you may seem unstable at times. Yet, it’s also a time when rising stars tend to shine. Stay on top of things. Muster your courage and know that you can do it.”

  “Wow, one card says all that?” Emmet asks. “How does that help us find out who and what did this to Myra?”

  She smiles at him, and I’m relieved to see he’s not bothering her. Emmet has a lot of energy. I liken him sometimes to a puppy who’s been let out to play. He has endless exuberance and tons of curiosity. His Emmet-ness can be a lot for someone who’s not used to it.

  “It’s too early to say,
cookie. Each card holds a meaning, but based on position within the spread and what other cards it comes paired with, that meaning has to be interpreted as a whole. That’s only card one. We’ll go through one by one, and we’ll pull it all together, I promise.”

  “Watch and see, Em. It’ll all make sense in the end. Oh, and maybe write stuff down so we don’t forget.”

  Emmet pulls his police notepad from his hip and sets up at the counter. “Okay, ready. Can you go over the Chariot’s stuff again? The part about unstable times.”

  * * *

  When we finish the reading, and my mind is filled with all the ambiguous possibilities, I file that away to study later. Under the guise of making us tea, I send Emmet to the kitchen while I fill Dora in about finding the email about the Eochair Prana.

  At the mere mention of the book, she recoils.

  “Okay, so it’s as bad as Garnet thinks?”

  “Oh, hon, it’s so much worse. People think they know what that woman was capable of, but they don’t. She’s bad news. Like, the end of days bad news. If someone has the notion of using Myra to decipher how the Eochair Prana works, no good can come of it.”

  “Do you believe it’s possible to summon the Morrigan?”

  “When you live as long as I have in the magical world, you learn that anything is possible. But it won’t happen. I promise you that. I took steps long ago to ensure the book wouldn’t fall into unsavory hands. Wherever Morgana is, she can bloody well stay there.”

  Emmet returns with the tea tray and gets us set up.

  “How do we use what we’ve learned so far to find the people who either have a copy of the book or are searching for one and stop them?”

  Dora points at the Devil card. “I’m going to make some educated guesses here, but I think they should be fairly accurate. The Devil card is about the entrapment of being tethered as a slave to evil. It implies oppression and being bound by a masochistic sense of duty. The castle image came up several times. You see? Here, and here, and there.”

  As she points at the cards, I follow her long, zebra print nails and realize she’s right. There is a reoccurring image in several of the cards.

  “You may or may not know this but Xavier, leader of the vampires, lives with his nest beneath Casa Loma.”

  “You think the vampires are behind this?”

  Dora shakes her head. “No. They are already immortal, in a sense, and don’t fuss with magic and fae power. But I believe they’re involved. You see, vampires are greedy. They can be bought, and the kinds of people behind the search for the Prana’s Key will pay their minions handsomely.”

  “What do the cards say about the odds that my sister comes out of this alive?” Zxata asks.

  I jump. Wow. I forgot he was even here. “Have the two of you met?” They shake their heads, so I make the introductions. “Pan Dora, this is Zxata, Myra’s brother.”

  Dora stands, and Zxata has the grace not to look too surprised. Without heels, I’d guess she’s six-foot-four, but with the boots she has on, she must be close to six-foot-ten. Still, as Dora closes the distance between them with her arms extended, Zxata shows no sign of hesitation.

  “I’m sorry for your heartache, Nisha,” Dora says.

  “I thank you for your help. Myra speaks adoringly of her friendship with you.”

  Dora steps back and dips her chin. “The adoration goes both ways.”

  There’s a moment of awkward silence, then the cuckoo clock clucks off five o’clock and bursts the bubble.

  “What should I do tomorrow, Zxata?” I ask. “Do you think I should come in and open the store? A few customers are coming in to pick up ordered books. Should I reschedule them and focus on what’s happening? What do you think?”

  He runs rough fingers through his long, blue hair and sighs. “Leave the store to me for tomorrow. I have a free day and want to be here for Leniya. I’d feel better if you and Garnet are out there working to track down the people behind this. I’ll mind the store. But please, if you find anything, let me know. I may not be much of a fighter, but I love my sister, and I want to be involved in bringing her back.”

  “I promise. We’ll keep you in the loop. If you don’t mind, Emmet and I are going to try to help Mr. Tree once more before we leave.”

  * * *

  After spending another twenty minutes with the ancient ash, Emmet and I thank Dora for her help and leave. My Dodge Hellcat SUV is parked on Queen Street, and it feels like a year since I last sat in her leather seats. “If you don’t mind, we’ll take the scenic route home and drive by Casa Loma.”

  “Fi, we’re not ready to take on a nest of vampires. If that’s what you’re thinking—”

  I snort. “No. I’m worried and frustrated, not suicidal. I simply want to drive past, and maybe Bruin can take a quick spirit check of the area.”

  “Is that safe? We don’t know anything about vampires. Can the undead sense spirit bears?”

  I get a sinking feeling in my gut and sigh. “I don’t know. Okay, we’ll only drive by and take a look. No recon tonight. I’ll chat with Garnet and see what he thinks.”

  Emmet slides into the shotgun seat and nods. “I think that’s wise.”

  I cast a sideways glance and giggle. “Since when did you become the poster boy for level-headed thinking?”

  “Hey, I’ve matured a lot since I touched the nakey man.”

  I turn the key, and when the engine rumbles to life, I check my mirrors and pull away from the curb. “Yet, you still refer to it as you touching the nakey man. You’re hilarious.”

  “Love you too, sista.”

  From where the emporium is on Queen, I turn north on Bathurst and go straight up to Davenport Road, then over to Dupont. Casa Loma is a Toronto landmark. I was there a couple of times as a kid on school trips, and once when I was seventeen for a summer formal when my boyfriend at the time worked for McDonald’s.

  It was one of those crazy fun nights that you don’t appreciate until years later, and you wish you could go back and do it all over again.

  “If Sloan were here, I’d point out that the castle has character, history, and after a fifteen-year restoration, all its architectural features.”

  “Are you still going on about him slighting our country being a baby next to Ireland?”

  “No, I’m still going on about him insinuating that unless something is crumbling and smells like an old root cellar, it doesn’t have character. Next time he’s here, remind me to book a reservation at the castle’s steakhouse restaurant.”

  “That’s pricey, Fi. How much is Myra paying you?”

  “Oh, I’m not paying. He still owes me, like, twenty-seven grand from the landscaping ideas he gave Bruin.”

  Emmet chuckles. “If only he knew that all we needed were a few Ostara magic turds, we could’ve saved all that money.”

  “Exactly.”

  I pull onto Austin Terrace, ease out of the traffic flow, and take advantage of there being no curb to stop on the sidewalk. From across the two-lane road, I stare at the building with new eyes. Casa Loma is a Gothic revival mansion built over a century ago and a gem in the crown of Toronto history. I have a hard time believing the Toronto nest of vampires live there.

  “Listen to this.” Emmet stares at his phone in his lap. “It says here that during World War II, there were extensive renovations to the stables. It was widely believed that a secret military research facility was built under the site. Station M, as it was called, was where they manufactured covert sonar devices used for U-Boat detection.”

  “If it was widely believed, it wasn’t a very good secret.”

  Emmet laughs. “It was a secret at the time. It was the guy who wrote about Camp X who started researching it.”

  “I thought the city owns the castle.”

  “It says here that an entertainment company signed a long-term lease in 2014. They use it for filming movies and TV shows and weddings and stuff now.”

  “Where do the vampires come in?
” I stare at the beautiful stone castle and the few people coming and going. They look like ordinary people to me.

  “Maybe they live in the secret military facility beneath the stables. Maybe they run the steakhouse. I have no idea.”

  With more questions than we started with, I pull back onto the road and head home.

  “As much as I want to be in the mood to celebrate Liam’s birthday, I’m not sure what kind of company I’ll be tonight. If I need to head out early…”

  “I’ll cover you,” Emmet says without missing a beat. “I got your six, Fi.”

  * * *

  Shenanigans on a Saturday night is busy. Shenanigans on a Saturday night when the regulars know it’s Liam’s birthday is insanely busy. Clan Cumhaill arrives by nine as predicted, but I’ve only gotten to spend five minutes with the birthday boy by eleven. This is good, in a way, because it’s great he has so many friends. It also stings because I used to rank first in the friend hierarchy.

  “How’s yer night treatin’ ye, son?” Da asks as Liam makes a circuit around to our oversized table in the back. “Yer still standin’, so there’s that.”

  Liam slumps against the brick half-wall and chuckles. “Am I standing? I thought I was floating. The pub is on a slow and steady spin too.”

  Da laughs. “Like that, is it?”

  Tall and friendly, with brunette hair and ice-blue eyes, Liam’s as popular with the ladies as he is with guys hanging out at the bar. He’s the whole package.

  He straightens, and a tumbler gets pushed into his empty palm. He looks at the glass and flashes me a smile. “Hey Fi, I’m magical too. Any time my hand is empty, another drink suddenly appears.”

  I chuckle and look around. His comment is innocent enough, but it’s hard having a secret identity if your drunk bestie shouts it out in a crowded bar. “You’re amazing.” I raise the tumbler of Redbreast I’ve been nursing the past half-hour. “Here’s to another amazing year to come. Slainte mhath!”