by Lila Dubois
Two days after Robert first showed up, they each took the satellite phone and called home, repeating the same story—they’d used their magic too close to another practitioner and caused a magically charged sinkhole. They each claimed that one of the other cabals was helping them get out. They’d each called their mothers, and all three women had vowed to come and help. It had taken some fast talking on all sides to keep that from happening.
Robert had brought in two ten-gallon tubs of water on his first trip. A few days later he was back, this time with massive industrial plastic tanks. He’d had to force his way along the path meant for ATVs with a small pickup. It was dinged and scraped by the time he reached the closest safe stopping point.
Nim risked crossing the border far enough to use the earth to help transport the water from Robert’s vehicle. Harris and Trajan watched from just inside the transformed forest, Harris ready to race down and grab her and haul her back. It hurt Trajan to know that he wouldn’t be able to cross that line if Nim needed help.
Once Nim had the water tanks safely over the border, Harris took over. Long vines he’d coaxed to life wrapped around the jugs and started hauling them up the rise. Trajan stayed to talk to Robert, who was walking up the slope. Robert stopped five feet from where Trajan stood, unwilling to cross.
“Rowan called me,” he said. “Someone in your family doesn’t believe your story.”
“I’m not surprised. And I need your phone.” Trajan kept his voice low. He didn’t want Harris or Nim to know about this call.
Robert looked behind Trajan, at Nim and Harris, who were twenty yards uphill. He fished the sat phone from his pocket and tossed it over.
Trajan caught it and flipped up the antenna. He took a few steps to the side, putting a large tree between himself and Nim and Harris. He dialed from memory and tried to convince himself he wasn’t betraying them.
“Who is this?” Iris answered.
“Iris, it’s Tray.”
“Tray! Goddess, are you okay? Your mother said she talked to you. You’re trapped?”
“I am trapped,” he said, “but not in a sinkhole.”
She made a small noise of triumph, as if his words supported her hypothesis. “What’s really going on?”
“I don’t have a lot of time. They don’t know I’m calling you.”
“They who?”
“Nimue Mahkah and Harris Barclay.” Speaking in short, quick sentences, Trajan explained what had happened.
“Wait, wait,” she said. “You’re telling me you can touch one another? Use your magic around one another?” Her voice was strained.
“Yes.”
“Tray, Goddess…do you know what that might mean?”
Trajan winced at the hope he heard in her voice. “That’s why I’m telling you. And Robert, the guy Rowan sent after me, he used his magic around us too.”
“Tray!” Her voice was high with excitement, and she sounded younger, carefree.
“Iris, just listen. This forest is dangerous. I don’t have time to go over all the times we’ve almost died. But I wasn’t lying. I’m trapped. I can’t leave the boundary of the transformed forest.” He explained about turning to stone.
“You’re trapped there forever?”
“We don’t think so. We don’t know why the forest transformed, but we’re going to try and find out. It’s got to be tied to Nimue—she’s the one who bears the Mahkah curse. She thinks that when she dies in a few months the forest will revert to normal and I’ll be free.”
Iris was silent for a moment. “We have to understand this. We have to.”
“I’ll do my best, but there are a lot of variables—Nimue’s curse, the power she was amassing, each of our particular powers, celestial positioning, the history of this particular forest…”
Iris made a pained noise. “Let me help you. I don’t know how I can, but let me help you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Get me everything you can find on how to break a curse.”
* * * *
“Why isn’t one of us a fire witch?” Harris added another log to the flames. “We’re making a fire manually, like Neanderthals.”
“Next time I’ll kidnap a fire witch.” Nim watched from the easy chair she’d created out of rocks and which Harris had covered in soft plants. They were sitting outside the entrance to the cave. She’d managed to shift the ground enough to create a twenty-by-ten-foot relatively flat space just outside the entrance. They couldn’t cook in the cave, and neither Harris nor Trajan could stand to spend all day inside, so they’d created this outdoor living space, which was about to have some fancy plumbing.
“No kidnapping people,” Trajan said. He was putting the finishing touches on their camp shower, which they’d rigged up using one of the tanks Robert had brought and pieces from her bunker shower.
They’d taken cold sponge baths yesterday, but decided if they were going to go to the trouble of having showers they were going to be hot showers, hence the fire Harris was tending. Nim had done the literal heavy lifting, using magic to get the pieces in place, so now she got to sit back and watch her men.
Her men.
Trajan was using a clamp to secure some tubing to the metal frame of the shower when he slipped. He snarled and wind punched the ground around him, sending up bits of debris. Nim squeezed her eyes shut and held up an arm to shield her face.
“Shit,” Harris whispered.
Nim jerked her arm down, Harris’s tone warning her that something had gone wrong.
Trajan was gripping his left forearm just below the elbow with his right hand. A three-inch piece of metal was sticking out of his wrist. Blood poured over his left hand, coating the flesh that was white from where they’d touched that first day.
Trajan’s face was a mask of pain, though he walked calmly toward Nim. Harris grabbed him, supporting him until he could collapse in the chair Nim had been sitting in.
Harris helped Trajan lay his injured limb on the armrest. Nim dug through the supplies Robert had brought, finding a first-aid kit. Her fingers were shaking as she opened it.
“I’ve got gauze, clean disinfectant,” she said.
“Have it ready. I’m going to pull it out.”
“Wait, what if it cut through a vein? If we take it out, he could bleed…” To death. She didn’t say the last two words aloud.
“Not like I can go to a hospital,” Trajan said through his teeth.
Nim looked at Harris, whose green eyes were dark with worry. “I’m going to hold you down,” he said gently. Vines started to creep across Trajan’s arm above and below the puncture.
Nim cupped Trajan’s face. “Hey, look at me. Just look at me.” She called power into her hands, hoping the pleasant tingle of magic would help distract him. She could only see what was happening out of the corner of her eye.
Two ropes of what looked like roots were wrapped over Trajan’s forearm, the metal protruding obscenely from his skin. Blood was trickling from the wound.
Harris gripped the piece of metal. Nim called her magic until her palms glowed white.
Harris yanked the jagged bit of metal free. Her distraction worked for a half second, but then Trajan’s face contorted in pain. Wind howled through the valley, a wail of pain. Trajan himself was silent, lips pulled back in a grimace, eyes squeezed closed.
Nim released him, snatching up the gauze pad and pressing it hard over the gaping hole. In seconds it was soaked.
Harris added a second pad, his bloody hands covering hers. The blood kept flowing.
“This isn’t working,” she whispered.
“We healed each other before—there has to be a way to do it again.”
“What did we do?” Nim asked. She had no memory of it.
“We were holding your hands.”
Nim kept her left hand on Trajan’s wound, then threaded her blue-marked right hand with Trajan’s, matching up their discolored skin.
Harris reached across her, taking Trajan’s other ha
nd, tugging on him until they were bound by the forearm grip they’d used that day.
“Now what?” Nim asked.
“I don’t know,” Harris said angrily. “I don’t know what we did.
Nim tried to think through the fear for Trajan that was making her panic. Maybe if she encased his whole arm in hard-packed dirt, that would be enough to stop the bleeding.
She called up her power, and a second later she felt her magic flow out not into the earth, but into Trajan. His eyes popped open, the blue glow paler than normal—tinted with white.
A second later she felt the wild, untapped power of a seed, the endless cycle of renewal and death, like a great wave about to crash over her.
Harris. That was Harris’s power.
“What are we doing?” Trajan asked.
“I don’t know,” Nim said. “Are we hurting you?”
“No, it’s working.”
Nim looked at Harris. His eyes were glowing gold, and his head was tipped back, his gaze unfocused. “It’s like a circuit,” he said at last.
“A magical circuit?” she asked.
“When we touch, we complete the circuit, and now the magic is a current, running through a wire. Somehow, that must have healing power.”
Nim and Harris still had their hands stacked over the wound. Harris lifted his, then offered her his bloody palm. Nim laced her fingers with his, and for a horrible moment blood continued to pour from Trajan.
Then she felt it, the snap as the current closed, the magic swirling from one of them to another.
“We’ve touched before,” Trajan said slowly, and Nim got the impression he was trying to take his mind off the pain. “Why didn’t we notice?”
“I think we have to will it to work,” Harris said slowly. “That first night we must have done it instinctively, and since we slept so long the only partially completed circuit was enough.”
Nim was only half-listening, watching with horrified fascination as Trajan’s skin pulled back together. It was fascinating and also extremely gross.
They stayed that way for no more than ten minutes before Trajan’s arm was completely healed.
Nim slid her hand from Harris’s fumbling in the first-aid kit for a cleaning wipe. She ripped the small package open with her teeth, then carefully cleaned the blood away from Trajan’s skin. There was a patch of tender-looking pink skin, but no puncture. No gushing blood.
“Whoa,” Trajan said.
“This is…” Harris sat back, the roots sliding back into the ground. “Have either of you ever heard about something like this even being possible?
“Nope,” Trajan replied.
Nim looked at them. “If we can heal each other, maybe we can heal the curse.”
They glanced at one another, then as one scrambled into the cave. There was no doubt that it was both the safest place, and highly magical.
They were still bloody when they sat in a circle, knees touching. They linked hands, carefully matching up their marks.
“Will it,” Harris said. “Will the circuit to be complete.”
There was a snap, almost audible, as if it had been a note just above her hearing level, and then she felt their power flowing. This time Trajan’s power slid into her, while hers slid into Harris.
Nim concentrated on the curse. It was there, a feeling, a coldness at the base of her neck. She could go days without noticing it, as it was her longtime companion, but when she thought about it, it was there.
She waited for the spot to warm, for the darkness her magical sight sensed to retreat from their sparkling power.
Nothing.
She squeezed their hands, hope making her ache and bringing tears to her eyes.
Time passed. Her butt went numb from sitting on the cold stone. Her anklebones ached where they too were pressed against the hard surface under her.
“Nim, baby, I’m so sorry,” Harris whispered.
“No, please, don’t give up,” she begged
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Trajan said.
Harris looked at him sternly. “Don’t give her false hope.”
“I’m not. We will try again. We will defeat the curse.”
“Yes, but this might not be the way. We’ve been here nearly three hours.”
“How do you know it’s not working?” Trajan demanded.
“Look at her,” Harris said gently. “She wouldn’t be crying if it were working.”
Nim jerked her hands from theirs and covered her face. She let out the sob she’d been holding in. They gathered her in their arms. She shoved at them, but they pulled her between them.
She sobbed as they held her.
Chapter 21
“Run!” Harris yelled.
Nim turned and sprinted back the way they’d come. Harris caught up with her, and under the mud caked on his face he was smiling.
“Are you enjoying this?” she panted.
“A little bit,” he admitted.
They rounded a tree and Nim stopped, turning and holding her arms out from her sides. The creature chasing after them landed on the ground under the tree, less than five feet from where she stood.
Trajan, perched on a branch high overhead, sprang the trap. The net Robert had brought them snapped up, hauling the creature off the ground. It thrashed, antlers caught in the net.
Harris and Nim crept closer as Trajan dropped out of the tree to join them.
“Um, hello,” Harris said. The creature, which had the short curved antlers of a pronghorn, was the size of a great dane. Its body was that of a jackrabbit, with the massive, powerful legs that made it a wickedly fast predator. Its face was pure fluffy bunny cuteness—big dark eyes, a soft pink nose, and fluffy cheeks. Except for the long saber-toothed fangs. This detracted somewhat from the cuteness.
“Do you speak English?” Harris asked.
The jackalope opened its mouth and roared like a tiger. They all took a step back.
“Wait, is that a yes or a no?” Harris asked.
The animal started to thrash again. Trajan reached out and grabbed the animal by the horns, holding its head still. Nim slid under Trajan’s arms and reached through the net, sliding a GPS-equipped collar around the jackalope’s neck and fastening it.
“I’m saying that’s a no on it having human-level intelligence,” Trajan said as he and Nim backed away. Nim picked up an instant camera that hung from a strap around her neck and took as many pictures as she could, though the green-and-brown net would obscure most of them. Then she repeated the process with a digital camera. When they were done, Nim and Harris got into place behind Trajan, who reached out and carefully cut the net free from around the creature’s horns before releasing the rope. Nim handed Harris one of the cameras.
The jackalope thudded to the ground, twisted a few times, then sprang to its feet, standing taller than Trajan when it rose on its hind legs. Nim and Harris frantically snapped pictures as the jackalope reached out one clawed paw. It hit the razor-thin wall of wind that Trajan had erected and roared in pain. It bared its teeth at them one last time, and then turned and hopped off into the forest.
“Jackalope—existence confirmed, dangerous but not intelligent.” Harris starred brushing at the mud on his face. Nim passed a hand over his face, calling every speck of soil away from his skin. “I always forget you can do that,” he said.
“Come on, we still don’t know this part of the forest very well.” Trajan urged them to follow the path he’d marked out in bright yellow spray paint. Today they were exploring the downstream section of the forest. Their first task was to find and map the borders of the transformed forest on this side of the river. Trajan had wanted to cross the river and map the other side after that, but Nimue was adamant they not cross to the far bank. So they’d started mapping the forest, marking out major landmarks like the tall stump where they’d first seen the massive owl. It had taken two weeks to map just the section they were familiar with. Since then they’d been working on both mapping and catalogui
ng the flora and fauna of the farthest reaches.
Trajan had his compass. They’d learned quickly enough that the compass didn’t point to magnetic north, but instead the needle always pointed to the albino redwood, which every morning cast a blanket of bright white light across the forest for about an hour after the sun first hit it. This was also the best time to explore—it was as if that tree’s magic was so intense that other things—be they plant, animal, or something in between—stayed still and silent while the white redwood glowed.
Dusk and night were the most dangerous times, and they’d taken to staying in the cave until dawn. That left a lot of hours they spent together in the cave—cataloguing their finds and discoveries, making maps, journaling, talking, practicing their magic, and having sex.
So much sex.
This morning had been particularly good. Nim had been practicing using her flora magic, and Harris had woken to find thin green vines wrapped around both his wrists and Trajan’s, the plant life binding them to the bed, which was the mattress from her bunker placed on the floor of the cave. She’d knelt between then, gotten their cocks hard with her hands, and then mounted first him and then Trajan, stopping to switch which cock she was riding every few minutes. It had been wonderful and maddening all at the same time. Harris had waited until she was just mounting Trajan to release himself from the vines at the same time he increased the bonds holding Trajan.
Nim had gasped when she saw he was free, then moaned in pleasure as he forced her to bend forward over Trajan, and had a vine bring him the bottle of oil they used for lube. The bottle had a permanent place of honor in the vegetation carpet beside their bed. He’d oiled his cock and then pressed himself up into her ass.
“Harris, are you distracted or has something happened to you?”
He looked up to see they were both staring at him. They were nearly back at the entrance to their cave. “Thinking about this morning,” he said.
Nim smiled and Trajan’s eyes brightened with desire.
“Inside,” Trajan rumbled.
They turned to head for the cave when a shadow passed over them.