A Family Oath

by Auburn Tempest

  “Who, me? Never. Did it work?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Well, for the first time in almost fifty years, my heart and mind feel far less burdened. No Humvee sitting on my chest. No tight jaw from gritting my teeth. I fought just now and didn’t get consumed by anger and violence. I had a clear-headed goal to triumph.”

  Play it cool. Fight the smile… Must. Not. Fist pump.

  I shrug and feign innocence. “You know what they say about time healing all wounds. It’s hella restorative.”

  “Hella restorative, eh? You’re sticking with that?”

  “It’s plausible.”

  “Not really.”

  I shrug. “Picture me as the little mouse who pulled the thorn out of the angry lion’s paw. Squeak, squeak.”

  Anyx joins us, and Garnet lets it go—for now at least.

  “Okay, Thaor identified two of our dead from the Guild database. They’re both members of the West Village Wizards and fall under Salem’s rule.”

  Garnet nods. “You two take him in and clean up these bodies. We have an antidote to find.”

  I cast a glance around and sigh. “It’s a proverbial needle in a haystack. We need reinforcements.”

  I pull out my phone and post in my family WhatsApp chat room. Then I text Zxata and Dora the update. Next, I call up my playlist and connect to the store audio system.

  As the music pumps out of the speakers above, I hold out my hand to Garnet. “Care to give a girl a lift to the third-floor Antidotes and Remedy section? With any luck, the book we need didn’t get tossed.”

  He takes my hand and bows. “It would be my pleasure.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, the adventure of the hunt has faded, and the search for a third-floor book with a hollow core has become far more back-breaking. Dora and Emmet are taking on the second floor. Calum and Dillan are working on the main floor, and Da finished up in the front of the shop and had to head for his shift in the surveillance van.

  Zxata and I have repaired and shelved the books littered onto the third floor’s catwalk and have started on the stacks of books Sloan and Garnet have been bringing up.

  “So, it was about the Eochair Prana but only because the West Village Wizards believed they could find a spell in it that could resurrect a demon?” Zxata finishes fanning through the pages of a text, then follows the reference number on the spine to determine where it belongs.

  I grab another and do the same thing. Rinse and repeat. “And when that didn’t pan out they went after Myra.”

  Sloan poofs up and sets down another pile. “What I don’t understand is why they thought she would know? There are hundreds of new age and occult bookshops and hundreds of authorities on things like demonic resurrection. Why target Myra? Why not move on and ask someone else?”

  Zxata slides another book onto the shelf and smiles. “Because my sister isn’t simply a bookstore owner—she’s a Historian.”

  I shelve my book and go back to the pile. “Okay, but Sloan’s point still stands. It’s not surprising that the West Village Wizards pegged Myra as the Yoda guru of exotic books, but why her? There are lots of historians who could’ve helped them.”

  Zxata fans the next book and walks down the aisle a ways to find it’s place. “No, not simply a historian who knows details of the past. Myra is a Historian with a capital ‘H.’”

  The capital H thing makes me stop and straighten.

  Sloan looks like he might faint.

  “I take it this is one of those preternatural world big deal thingies that I don’t understand. What’s a Historian?” I finish with the book in my hand and slide it in place.

  Sloan takes the top book off the pile and checks the spine. As he reads the numbers of the books in my section, he fills me in. “A Fae Historian is a very rare occurrence when a truly pure-blooded child can access and recall all that came before. In some cases, they are bards and can sing and recite the histories long forgotten. In others, they are healers and recall potions and remedies from thousands of years ago, and in still others, they know everything there is to know about subjects like lineage or military events or—”

  “Books,” I interrupt.

  Sloan nods. “Exactly. You see, as a Historian of the written word, she would magically know every book that holds the capability to not only resurrect a demon but the demon they’re interested in. Her knowledge would be invaluable.”

  Zxata frowns. “But how did they know? It’s certainly not something she would’ve ever shared with anyone, for exactly this reason.”

  Sloan opens his book and smiles, then tips it for us to see the hollow core and the glass vial we saw in her memories. “Why don’t we wake her up and ask her?”

  Chapter Twenty

  With the antidote in hand, we call it a night and lock up the bookstore. I want to go with Garnet and Zxata to see if it works, but they say there’s no sense. The antidote for necrosis root might take days to bring her back.

  “And you’re exhausted,” Garnet adds. “Between being attacked at the pub and fleeing to Ireland, then being thrown back in time to collect the book, you’ve done more than enough. Go home and get some rest. Magical stores deplete. You may be young and strong, but you need to take better care of yourself.”

  Sloan lets out a harumph I’ve heard many times in my life. It’s an Irish catch-all phrase that can mean anything. In this instance it could be, “She’ll never listen,” or, “I’ve told her that a million times,” or, “Yer preachin’ to deaf ears, my friend.”

  I’ve faced off with enough stubborn men to know when to pick my battles, so for tonight, I accept defeat. “Fine. Home to bed it is.”

  Sloan’s brow arches in disbelief and I revel in the ability to surprise him with my mature, level-headed reasonability.

  “We’ll poof to your place and pick up my truck, then straight home.”

  Too tired to drive, I hand Sloan the keys and pull out my phone. Order pizza. We’ll pick it up. On the way home now.

  Dealio.

  We arrive home twenty minutes later, pizzas in hand, and flop on our asses in the family room with the other tired troops. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your help. I don’t want Myra waking up from one nightmare to be smacked in the face with another one.”

  “Not a problem, Fi.” Emmet stuffs his face. “Her life got hijacked by evil wizards. Could happen to you any day now. The least we can do is pay it forward.”

  I snort. “You’re not wrong.”

  I finish my second piece and go for a third. “At least we know why it happened now. Hopefully, if we’re lucky, that’ll be the end of it. Garnet and his men are looking into the wizards now. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

  Dillan finishes his slice and pushes back from the coffee table. “Damn, Fi, I wish ye hadn’t deleted the pictures on your phone. I want to see the pictures of you in Camelot.”

  “Hells yeah. Me too,” Emmet agrees.

  “She didn’t delete them,” Sloan reminds them. “She never took them.”

  “Says you.” I reach for another slice of Hawaiian. “And don’t start on your astrology stuff, crazy man. I was there. I know I took pictures.”

  “It’s astral projection, and yer the crazy one.”

  I chew my pizza, make zany eyes at my brothers, and make them laugh.

  “Is that yer fourth slice? Have ye got a tapeworm?”

  I frown at Sloan lounging back on the couch with Kevin and Calum. “Exsqueeze me? If you want things to go smoothly between you and me, Mackenzie, comments like that end now. Tapeworm? Seriously? That’s gross.”

  “Yeah, dude,” Dillan says. “Bad call.”

  Sloan finishes his second beer and sets the bottle with the other fallen soldiers. “She took up a seat at the buffet at Garnet’s a couple of hours ago, and now she’s eating like she’s starving. I’m not judgin’. I’m concerned she’s unwell. After what she’s been through, and the possession of the book, I simply find it out of character.”

 
The boys slide their frowns from Sloan to me. Dillan passes Sloan a freshie and gets him set up. “Well, yeah, that is odd. You don’t usually eat like that, and a lot has happened to you over the past couple of days.”

  I wave that away. “Honestly, I’m fine. I threw up all the buffet food while I was in with Myra. Trust me. I’ve got a rumbly in my tumbly.”

  Sloan’s brow creases as his focus intensifies. “Is admittin’ ye threw up yer last meal supposed to make us feel better about yer well-being?”

  I roll my eyes and reach for my beer. “One amazing, panty-dampening kiss and you’re getting annoying. This isn’t boding well for you for getting to second base.”

  My brothers snort, and Sloan’s expression drops. “Are we talking about that now? Here? With yer brothers?”

  Emmet chuckles, shifts the empty pizza box to the bottom, and brings a whole pie to the top. “Trust me, dude. In this family, we all know what’s going on anyway. I’m surprised you’re only getting to the locking of lips. The two of you have thrown off fuck-me vibes for months.”

  If the look on Sloan’s face wasn’t so mortified, I would’ve given my brother shit for that one, but yeah, his discomfort is funny as hell.

  I set my beer back onto my coaster and swallow. “Okay, two things. One, Sloan doesn’t have siblings so he’s unaccustomed to the interjections of thoughts and opinions regarding our current status on horizontal hijinks or lack thereof. Take it easy on him. He lives in a stone castle with a bed built like a fortress. They don’t creak as things do in our humble Victorian, so he has no idea about that of which we speak.”

  Dillan groans. “You will. Emmet tends to bring home very vocal girls.”

  Emmet shrugs and drops into the club chair. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m that good and know how to make a lady—”

  “Stop!” I point my finger at Emmet. “Don’t finish that sentence. While I like to think of you all as skilled and giving lovers, I don’t want any images in my head.”

  Kevin raises his bottle. “Agreed. Good save, Fi. You said two things. Sloan’s not used to sibling chaos, and…”

  I grin. “And two, if you guys think you’re in the loop on who’s doing whom in this house, I’m about to blow your freakin’ minds.”

  The peanut gallery sits forward and eyes one another.

  “Who’s doing whom?” Calum asks. “And if you say Emmet’s back with Moaning Myrtle, I’m going to kill him.”

  They all turn to Emmet, who shakes his head. “Rude. Her name was Marta, and I haven’t seen her in months. Whatever bomb Fi has, it’s not me.”

  “No. It’s not. I’m telling you right now that I expect an Oh! Henry from each of you tomorrow.”

  Dillan’s brow pops. “That’s quite a demand. You sure you have the goods to back that up, sista?”

  “Oh, I have the goods. When Sloan poofed me and Liam home this afternoon, I thought Da would be sleeping off the night shift. The house was quiet, so we crept up the stairs to put our stuff away. We caught Auntie Shannon coming out of the bathroom in a towel and Da full monty in the hall. The two fessed up. They’re doin’ the deed.”

  “Fuck off.” Dillan sends me a stink-eye glare. “You’re full of shit.”

  “Brownies honor.” I raise my fingers in the pledge. “Sloan will back me up. He poofed away like a scaredy-chicken while Liam pretty much had a stroke.”

  “That’s…” Calum stalls out. “I don’t even know how to process that.”

  Kevin puts an arm around Calum and leans close. “I think it’s nice. It sorta makes sense. They’ve practically been a couple for years.”

  Emmet tips his beer back and drinks it down. “Am I the only one freaked out by the image of that?”

  Cue the shaking heads of everyone in the room.

  “Aunt Shannon is an angel. She doesn’t have sex,” Dillan declares, “and certainly not with Da.”

  I go back to finishing my beer. “That was Liam’s take on things too. Wrong and wrong. Da copped to them being occasional friends with benefits over the years. They progressed into coupledom this summer under the stress of me going missing and losing Brenny.”

  “Holy shit.” Dillan flops back on the couch.

  “You remain the reigning Queen of Amazeballs, Fi,” Calum admits. “Oh! Henry bars coming your way.”

  I take my bow, then remember one important point I neglected to mention. “Da said any flack or temper-fueled opinions go through him, not Shannon. He doesn’t want blowback on her.”

  Calum waves that off. “We wouldn’t do that. We’re okay with it, aren’t we?”

  Everyone in the room looks around to test the expressions and body language of the others.

  “It might slow down his drinking,” Dillan offers. “You know, if he has her to focus on instead of Brendan’s death.”

  That gets a few male grunts and hopeful nods.

  “I’m not family,” Sloan interjects, “but I think it’s nice that the two people ye look at as parents fancy each other. I’m not sure mine do. Yer Gran and Granda are my examples of what a real family looks like. Maybe ye should be happy fer them.”

  Emmet nods. “You’re right, Irish, and yer pretty much family. You’ve saved our bacon a dozen times over, and now that you’re snogging our sister, I’m sure you’ll be settling in.”

  “Yeah, make your move, man,” Calum encourages. “Fi’s had a rough few months. She could use an outlet.”

  I snort. “Hey, stop trying to pimp me out.”

  “No, Calum’s right,” Dillan adds. “Sloan needs to make it happen. Plant that flag before the competition comes back around.”

  “And when he says flag, he means—”

  “He knows what you mean, Emmet.” I hold up my hand.

  Sloan waves that off. “There’s no competition. Yer sister knows her mind, and Liam is part of yer family. He loves her too. We chatted after he was shot and—”

  “Wait. What? You and Liam discussed me?” I interrupt.

  “You said, loves her too. Are you dropping the L-bomb?’ Emmet chimes in.

  “I didn’t mean Liam,” Dillan says. “I meant the immortal god offering her carnal pleasures.”

  My jaw drops, and all the chatter of talking over each other comes to a grinding halt. It’s like one of those moments when the needle scratches across the vinyl of a record and everyone tenses.

  Sloan frowns. “A god’s offering you carnal pleasures?”

  I glare at Dillan. “You bring that up now?”

  Dillan shrugs. “Hey, you just finished telling him there are no secrets in this house. What’s the matter? You like to drop the bombs, but we can’t join the fun?”

  I look at Sloan, and I can’t decide if he seems more hurt or pissed. “Ignore Dillan. I have no interest in Nikon. For one, he looks like an eighteen-year-old going through an emo fetish, and for another, he’s bored with life and I get the feeling his moral code has worn thin since his time in the Parthenon.”

  “Nikon?” Emmet says. “Like the camera?”

  “Yeah, I used that one on him, and it didn’t hit his funny bone. I’d advise against it.”

  “Hey,” Calum jumps in. “If he’s from Pagan Greece, he’s probably game to join you two. Why choose, right?”

  I blink. “Not helping, Calum.”

  He looks at my face and bursts out laughing. “Ha! The subject has already come up. Noice.”

  I hold up my finger to lie, but my cheeks are flaming and Sloan already said he could read me like a book. “You suck. This was my moment with the gossip about Da and Shannon, and you sucked all the joy out of it for me.”

  Dillan laughs too. “Nah. You still win the chocolate bars.”

  Calum sinks deeper into the couch and raises his beer. “Wow, this is a night for revelations. Fi and Sloan are finally off the blocks, Da and Auntie Shannon are canoodling, and an ancient Greek god is interested in a threesome. Maybe Kevin and I should meet this immoral immortal.”

  Kevin cracks up, and now he’s blu
shing. “What? I’m not enough for you, archer? Do I need to up my game?”

  Calum chuckles. “I have a roomie this week. I don’t think Sloan’s up to being a voyeur.”

  As the room devolves into ricocheting comments and suggestions, I wave them a good night, tug on Sloan’s wrist, and head toward the bottom of the stairs. With my foot on the bottom step, I glance back. “I’m tired and not seducing you, but do you want to come up?”

  He shrugs, his shoulders rigid. “I suppose I will. My room is upstairs.”

  “Okay. Right. Sorry.” I climb the steps and head into my room, not sure if that meant he is or isn’t coming in to talk before bed.

  When he passes my door and heads to Calum’s room, I take that as my answer.

  Allll righty then. Good start.

  * * *

  I jolt in the wee hours of dawn and stare wide-eyed at Sloan in a pair of flannel lounge pants and a tight t-shirt lying on top of the bed beside me. I run a hand over my face and push back my hair. “Hey,” I say, my voice graveled with sleep.

  “Hey. I came to talk after I cooled down, but ye were lost to slumber.”

  “Time-travel and evil possession can do that to a girl.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.” He brushes a chunk of hair out of my face. “Close yer eyes. It’s not time to wake up yet.”

  “Will you be here to talk when I do?”

  “If that’s all right with you.”

  “It is.”

  “Good, then. Sweet dreams.”

  I close my eyes and feel the drugging pull to sink back into sleep. “Sweet dreams.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake to the buzz of my phone vibrating on my nightstand. With a reluctant groan, I roll over and grab it. “Garnet? Dude, you can’t order me to go home and rest, then phone and wake me up. That’s counterproductive.”

  The rumble of his lion’s growl has me opening my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “You have trouble coming your way. I need you dressed and at the druid standing stones as soon as you can get here.”