There's no way a mage of his age and knowledge base could possibly be so ignorant, unless that sign I saw is more enforced than I could possibly imagine. Sasha was already weak last time I saw her... her magic strained between here and the Shadow World. If I can't find her physically, there's no way I can pull her out of there, and if this town spits out witches, then what chance do we have?
Atlas reaches past me to turn off the faucet, no doubt questioning my sanity. But I can't give him any explanations without leaving myself vulnerable. I am, without a doubt more vulnerable than I've ever been, more so than when I was standing in the center of that pavilion. Sasha can't afford me to weaken anymore.
I still haven't moved, nor can I hear any of the questions he's asking me, but as he takes my hands in his and begins to dry them for me, my soul shudders as though it's at the brink of shattering.
“Sage. We need sage.”
I pull away, ignoring the heat that radiates off of Atlas while he follows me around weakly. Ignoring Elara who dances beneath our feet in a frenzy. And struggling to ignore the chill that's settling in my bones, knowing I'm far colder than anyone should be in the middle of the summer.
As soon as I get the interior of the RV properly smudged, I hand Atlas my broom and ask him to go sweep around outside as well. I know he's still weak, but he's recovering remarkably well, and the cleansing will work better if he participates in at least part of it.
We may not be able to mix our magic types, but as long as we're careful, a simple cooperation of energies like this should be allowable. If not, well I'm sure I'll be the one to have to pay the price anyway; nature always demands that balance be paid.
We never ate dinner. That's something I should fix, I all but cornered the poor guy, and then he got hurt. He talked about insanity earlier... maybe I am insane. But I'd rather be insane than lose my sister for eternity, so if I am, so be it. I'll use my mania to find her and destroy that Death Coven too.
Elara jumps onto the counter, stopping me from setting chicken breasts into the pressure cooker.
“What?”
Oh. I was about to put them in the violet one, not the silver. Violet's only for potion making, a decision we agreed on after I accidentally cooked mug wort into the meatloaf. Probably not a mistake to make again.
I place the food in the correct instrument and go to wash my hands again, followed by ochre eyes and jet-black fur that stand in my shadow at all times. Standing so close to the window, I can hear hushed tones as Atlas argues with someone on the phone. Both Elara and I lean forward, curious about my apprehensive ally.
“I'm telling you, she's not like Selma. I promise I’ll be fine, Nova will be, everyone will be fine!”
He's talking about me, leaning on the broom and scanning everywhere but the window behind him. I rest my forehead against the damp glass, straining for a better view.
“No, it's not just about a pretty face, I'm telling you, she saved me. How did we not even know about that kind of magic? I don't think she's the problem.”
It must be his brother. Elara arches her back defensively, but there's nothing to defend. Despite all reasons to mistrust and hate me, Atlas is doing the unthinkable and defending me.
Me. Nobody's ever defended me before.
I let the curtain swing down over the glass, then crack the window open just a bit. Perfect, now if he does look back, he won't see us, but we can hear him better.
“I'm not under any spells here Elliot, I promise. But I'm not going to tell her to clear out without even letting her have time to get over her disappointment. You heard her earlier, she was so certain she was about to meet the love of her life, she sought me out for help, even knowing she was out of her territory. If she were a mage or a mortal, would you treat her that way? Would you treat any woman that way?”
Love of my life? Is that why he thinks I'm here? Oh, I did say someone I love. But what's with Elliot's automatic hate? I've met other mages before, worked with them, I've never known any to dislike me so quickly, or strongly.
Atlas raises his voice and retorts to whatever it is I'm missing. “A witch, yeah I know. And we're mages, and Nova is a mortal. Get over it. She'll be gone soon enough. We're all just human, and she seems to be pretty in control of herself.”
Well, that's an outright lie. I'm a damn mess. What's he getting at?
“Well you know, if you're that concerned about her, maybe you shouldn't be making enemies with her, now should you?” He pauses again, the sliding of gravel against his feet telling me he's walking further away.
“Will you cut that crap out! She's not a bad person. To tell you the whole truth, I messed up and stepped into her spell work. She brought me here to untangle it and make me better. She actually went out of her way to help me, so will you stop acting so scared?”
Elara pounces forward to catch the curtain from waving in a slight breeze, and a small thrill crawls up my throat. It's a heady thing to be feared, a bittersweet pleasure that I can work to my advantage.
Elara yowls at me, noticing my smile at his words.
“Oh, stop it, I didn't say a damn word.” Her tail twitches at me disapprovingly. It's hard to feel judged by a cat, their faces are just so haughty to begin with, it doubles the impact.
“Damn it, Elara. I'm at a disadvantage here. Nobody's got my back except you, and no offense, but I'd like some backup with opposable thumbs.”
Her yellow eyes turn back to the curtain scornfully, and the twitching continues.
Letting out a huff of irritation, I shove a bag of carrots into the microwave to steam. “He doesn't count,” I mutter at her. “I like him, and I'm surprised he's actually stuck by me this far but come on. I can't expect him to risk his life for this mess. I just need his help tracking Sasha down.”
If I could only find her, I can manage the rest on my own. Resting my hand on the dented countertop, I stare aimlessly at photos that cover the heavy fridge door. Strawberry blonde hair floating about like a halo in poor lighting, crooked teeth and gorgeous smiles, limbs that are far too awkward to be called slender...
My chest is aching, physically tightening, and my jaw trembles against my clenched teeth. The Coven blames her for tainting our name, they blame me for not stopping her sooner. But it's not her fault. It was Robert's. He deserved what he got, but Sasha doesn't, I won't let her die for him.
I'm shaking my head as the microwave goes off, forcing myself not to think about Sasha or her friends, when several things occur at once.
Slashing claws land in my hair, dropping me to the ground in pain and confusion as a flurry of fur pushes me to my knees. Gasping for air, I try to push Elara off my back, but a yowling fills the air with the ferocity of a wild cat, and the pain of a dying soul.
Panicking whimpers fall from my throat as I propel myself underneath the booth in the kitchenette and begin to understand that Elara is not the one making the noise.
By the time my back is against the wall, Elara slides down my chest into my arms, and both of us tremble as our breath floats in front of us in an unnatural mist.
Somewhere outside I can hear Atlas' voice challenging the shrieking that's crushing my eardrums and piercing through my chest in unrelenting waves. My heart shudders in a galloping pace, and the cold that creeps around us is numbing my legs.
We're under attack from something deadly... or undead. Panic convulses through me, and several moments pass, or maybe just a second, but I'm lost to a world that makes no sense. My brain can only focus on two things.
One: I'm scared shitless.
Two: I need to go help Atlas, he's still too weak to defend himself.
The moment I attempt to leave, Elara bites my hand and hisses in my face, fighting with my decision.
“Get out of the way, he needs me!”
She moves with the fluidity of darkness, tripping me multiple times in my haste to the door. Twenty pounds of fat, fur, and a fierce sense of what's good for me. A familiar is more than a pet, but her determina
tion to keep me safe is going to kill somebody else.
“He needs me,” I sob, shoving her to the side and jumping out the door, ignoring the steps and the gravel and the noise.
He needs me. I need him.
The air struggles to contain me, as my body cuts through the space and hits the ground with jarring speed. Cradling my hand, I glance around, only to find Atlas perfectly upright and the tree line moving along with a non-existent breeze.
Warmth returns to me with a heavy hanging of humidity, and confusion holds me in place, gawking at the complete lack of danger. This is too abrupt a change, I don't understand, can't understand. For the second time this evening, I gawk at Atlas in stunned confusion.
Although pale and worn, he's fine. The only visible sign of struggle is the hair sticking up around his ears and some dirt and gravel still falling off of his jeans.
Turning to me, the light from the window casts harsh shadows on his face, emphasizing the twitching of his frown and the tension at his forehead.
“You had me believing the only thing you were running from was some sort of fucked up deadline. A prophecy, you said. So, what the hell was that?” He's not yelling, but he might as well be. The rich, soothing tones he used to defend me on the phone are all but obliterated, nothing but low, harsh accusations remaining.
He knows I lied.
But I can't tell him the truth, not yet. Not here, oh God, not here.
“I don't know,” I whimper, hating my voice for its weakness. I've always resented how high pitched and soft it is, even when I'm not holding back tears. “I don't know what it was, I thought it was going to hurt you. I came out to help, I'm so sorry, I don't know.”
The tears are fighting against the corners of my eyes, burning in the shame of all that I've become. Shaking my head, I back up to my steps, feeling Elara's pitying gaze upon me.
“You don't... you didn't have anything to do with that thing? You didn't bring it?” He's glancing around as he speaks, noting the movement of mortals struggling out of their trailers to find the source of the noise. A tall man seemingly doing the same is nothing exciting, so their attention passes over us quickly.
My mouth won't work. My lips are shut too tightly against one another, and my vocal cords are on strike with them. So, I dumbly shake my head, and try to force them to ask him where the sound came from. What was the monster? What did it want? And the biggest question of all; how is he standing unscathed after so many brushes with death tonight?
Atlas hurries me inside, our roles quickly shifting as he steers me around by my shoulders, and I shiver against the fading chill in his hands. Locking us in, he turns around and stares silently at me for a moment.
My face is reddening, and I don't know what to do with myself. Common sense is telling me to back up. I don't know what to expect, being locked in an enclosed space with him. I know I'm the one who sought him out, but this alliance is quickly turning way too personal. I'm waiting for the usual alarms to start ringing in my head... but they're silent. In fact, my feet are drawing me closer to him despite myself.
“That thing was huge... like a mountain lion, but not," he mutters, frustration clear on his face.
"Obviously, it was something more, way more than that. Could be a shifter, maybe?" Turning sharply to me, he sighs and continues. "Look, I don't really understand why you're here, but I'm getting the idea we really need to discuss it, because I'm not so sure that thing is completely gone.”
Soft fur winds about my ankles, and I allow my shoulders to relax, sensing his trust in me is being restored. I ought to still be on guard for that creature, but I'll take one victory at a time, and with how quickly it disappeared... I'm not too worried at the moment.
“Okay,” I croak, grateful for the return of my voice. “We can do that. I made food, you know, since we never actually ate. Then... do you know where I else I can move? I'd rather not end up parked behind a store.”
His frown takes over his entire countenance as he mulls over my question. Then, “I've got a carport back behind my house. It should be big enough to hold this place without too much notice, we've got plenty of land out of the way- warded land. You'd be safer.”
With the tips of his ears darkening into a dark rose color, he continues. “The only problem is there's no hook ups for the thing. You'd have to leave the RV parked outside and stay with me. In the guest room, I mean. I've got a guest room you're welcome to.”
“I'm sure that will go over just swell with your brother,” I quip sarcastically.
“I don't live with my brother. Helping you is my choice; I can't do that if you get eaten by some sort of prehistoric beast.”
My heart thuds with trepidation that stems from the solemnity on Atlas' face, rather than the thought of a monster stalking me. I can't afford distractions right now, or to let anyone get close to me when The Coven can still decide to hunt me down if they don't get their way. But something about his gaze tells me I could fall into his arms and cry if I needed to, and he'd embrace me as an old friend instead of a stranger. I could use a refuge like that.
Instead, I turn around and pull out our plates. “Well then, I better move in right after dinner.”
Chapter 9: Atlas
MY ENTIRE BODY IS ACHING as though I'm recovering from the flu, my brother is pissed at me, and some sort of demon cat just tried to eat me. But the crazed woman in front of me is so passionately desperate to save people, myself included... that I can't bring myself to walk away.
Her slender hands shake from the stress of the night, and the lush hair that falls over her shoulders is black enough to match the sky. There's a fragile strength about Tania that has me questioning who she is for more than practical matters. It's as though something within me has been waiting for her without ever knowing she was missing.
“I already told you what happened in the restaurant as far as the energy goes. I don't really know what else to say otherwise, it's not really my field of expertise. What I don't understand is what the hell happened to your cards,” she's muttering, her food all but forgotten.
“Yeah? Let me see. What are they covered in?” Even from a foot away, I can see that instead of the bright turquoise ink I'm used to, my cards are a dull grey.
“They're not. At least not anything I can get to come off of them.” Tania's voice is perplexed as she moves our plates over slightly, so I have a better view of them. “I think they're burnt. Or smeared with ash? But nothing's rubbing off on the cloth, and I was too scared to touch them.”
I'm happy she hasn't laid a finger on them; the way the napkin is wrinkled up around them shows that she had been trying to examine them without any direct contact. Touching a mage's cards without permission or the proper cleansing can screw them up... and after what I managed earlier, just her picking one up would probably have turned them to dust.
Even among mages, these cards are unique, not quite tarot but rather my own, personal way of scrying. Each one is made from cardstock I'd formed myself and written in high quality ink mixed with clay. It took me a full year to finish them... and now they're crumpled and grey.
I don't understand it, and the last bit of panic leaves my bones as an ache of loss replaces it. Is this what happened to my body at the restaurant? Did the fire I felt coursing through my tattoos burn through the cards I was holding in the same way?
Gingerly, I lift a card from the pile, hoping we can somehow reclaim them.
“Hold on a moment! What is that?” Tania's voice cuts through my thoughts, bells sounding out from every corner of the room. “Right there, that edge is still white.”
Following her finger to a piece that is still bright against the ruined others, I lift it up.
“What the hell?”
In my hand is the Egyptian symbol for death.
“Hang on,” I tell Tania, frantically spreading the rest of the cards over and flipping them to find any others that may be unmarked. One, two, three.
Four cards total.
&n
bsp; I sweep the table before me clean, a couple of small crumbs falling on my lap in the action.
The first card is death; the second one is inscribed with a Norse rune meaning ‘hidden’. As I handle the cards, the back of my eyes to ache again, more warnings are blaring in my head. I flip over the third card. The word ‘amor’ frames a bleeding heart- ill-fated love. I can feel Tania's anxious eyes on my frame as I turn the last one over and line it up. No words, just an illustration of a storm with lightning falling across the card and igniting flames of blue in the bottom corner.
“These cards aren't random. This is a warning... Tania, what were you scrying for in the restaurant?”
“Well, I was just looking at the town,” she stammers at me, her hands held out in confusion. She mimics her earlier movements as she speaks, pantomiming setting up her crystals, and tracing swirls across the table with her forefinger.
“I wanted to know how to find my sister. She's supposed to be here somewhere, I just don't know where. The pendant was working fine, I thought. I'm not exactly sure what it was that I was supposed to learn, but I think it was telling me about a map.”
“A map?” I ask, desperate to find the connections between her spell and my card's prediction. More than anything, I'm just praying it doesn't involve that creature I just ran off outside. “What kind of map?”
She stares at me like I've gone mad.
“Like a map, map. How much clearer would you want me to put it?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“I mean, was it telling you about some sort of map to find, or was it actually a map? And either way, what is the map actually for?”
“Oh,” she blinks at me. “It was an actual map; I'm assuming of the town. But I don't think it was finished when I had to stop the spell.”
Tania's eyebrows are pulled down in concentration, and she pulls her mouth to the side as she picks up the blackened crystal and turns it over in her hands. “This is so heavy; I'm not going to be able to get anything out of it until it's cleansed.”
Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels) Page 4