Sasha needs the tether I unwittingly gave her all those years ago to guide her across the astral plane, back to this side of the Veil. So, the plant will go with us, and needs to stay intact. I'll just have to keep everyone else from knowing that until it's too late.
Andromeda has risked so much, and maybe she was hopeful for something in return, but I know now that isn't possible. No wonder she's been so on edge this entire time, seeing death before it occurs has to be unsettling.
As for Atlas...
I watch as he paces the room, demanding other solutions, pulling at his face and jaw like I've seen him do so many times over the last two weeks. His dark hair is so much messier than it had been the day we met, and there's nothing left of his carefree grin I loved from the start. But he's still just as strong, still just as dependable, and I'm going to miss him. I just regret we only got two weeks to know each other.
"Tania, say something!" Atlas roars at me. "There's got to be a way to pull her over the Veil before it takes you. You've read all those books on funerals and deaths; what do we do?"
He's on his knees, begging me for an answer, for an action to fight. His wonderful face is swollen, cut, and bruised, but the pain in his eyes goes deeper than any physical wound. How did I ever think of him as just a means to an end?
"I'll, I'll flip through the book," I stutter, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "Andromeda, let's just get Sasha first, then we can discuss the plant."
Sobbing, shaking, and nearly twisting her hair into knots, she agrees. They pack up our arsenal and ready the car, and I read up on the only thing that's useful to me now.
Six chapters in, on a background of why wakes came to be, I find it.
A banshee, disguised as a black cat, save for one bright spot of fur, is called a sidhe. It is a creature of darkness and her only purpose in our world is to consume, and trap souls. There's no mention on how to defeat it, but after seeing it myself, I know that's because it's impossible. The only way to appease it, is to give it what it wants.
"Okay, this is it," Atlas mutters from the front seat, pulling around to a gated community.
The gates are locked, and unsupervised with the exception of a couple of cameras, but Andromeda and I came prepared for those. A couple of poppy blossoms fit right into the flowerbed just beside the drive, and we're free to go straight in.
The air is still warm from the day, and the humidity is just as heavy as ever, but I'm so lightheaded, I could have been floating. As Atlas drives stakes into the ground around the imposing three story home, Andromeda passes me a hagstone and raises one to her own eye. He's tearing down as many wards as he can, but we still need to be wary of traps inside the building as well.
Through the stone, each stake he hammers illuminates with sigils that reflect the engravings on the multitude of metalworks about the yard. At the gate, a lock rusts over and falls to the ground, while from the porch several windchimes swing wildly about the rain gutter before clamoring down. We watch from the car, as one by one, Atlas disables the wards he'd once put in place, and then moves on to remove the one's Englebert fashioned himself.
The Celtic knots at his wrist shine the brightest, a neon hue in the darkening evening; but all of his tattoos are glowing, no longer vibrant curiosities, but burning entities thriving beneath the surface of his skin. It's an entire living catalogue of spells, adapting with his every move. The sight is enough to pause the rest of my fears and thoughts, just to drink in the sight of his magic at work.
Andromeda moves first, focused only on the task at hand, and I can almost believe in the bravado she wears like a cape. It's the only the detail of her quivering hands that reminds me she's just like me; scared shitless.
We let our familiars lead the way, one lean and sleek, bounding up the steps, the other small and agitated, slinking about the fading light. The humidity gives way to a slow cover of rain that seems too tame to suit this night, and Atlas catches my hand as we step over the threshold, reminding me of a blistering morning and loose gravel. His shoulders are tense with stress, and I know he's listening for the same screeching that I am. The hunting grounds of this sidhe are unclear, but I'm positive an unguarded house is fair game.
Once we reach the center of the ground floor, Andromeda pulls out her guide, and waits. For a moment she stands motionless, with the small cheetah shaped stone held out in front of her. Slowly though, as though moved by a magnet, her hand drift upwards and to the west.
"This way," she commands, running full speed to the carpeted stairs.
The house is dark, its opulent decorations and trappings lay undisturbed, and all physical evidence tells us the building is empty. But as we battle the stairs, my heart rate climbs with more than just exertion. A large window parallels the second flight, and I almost stop breathing as condensation slides across the glass.
"Keep moving," Atlas whispers in my ear, placing one hand at the small of my back encouragingly. "I've got you."
Nodding in response, I swallow in vain, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. The scent of fabric softeners and the humming of ceiling fans lets us know we've reached the bedrooms, and stepping quickly onto the landing, I reach behind me to hold Atlas' hand.
A chill from the AC makes me jump, but Elara and Kamali tread silently forward, so I let myself believe the cold is harmless, just another facet of this family's want for comfort. Plush furnishings diminish our shadows as we creep about the rooms, and the carpet beneath our feet hushes our progress. For as tall as Atlas is, even he is dwarfed by the surroundings, and that unsettling fact only adds to my nerves.
Every room is empty, so once again, Andromeda pulls out her guide, while Atlas and I huddle together, nervously watching our surroundings. This time, the movement of her palm drifting in the open space reminds me of the actions of a puppet, and I shudder runs through my body. My hand shakes in Atlas' palm, and he tightens his grip to steady me, but I don't need to glance at his face to know he's just as unnerved as I am. His hands are just as clammy as my own.
Again, the stone tells us to go up, but there's nowhere else to turn.
"What now?" Atlas asks, his voice barely audible above the swaying fans.
I set my jaw and quiet the flames that dance in the back of my head, begging for release. "Now, we look for an attic, and get Sasha the hell out of here."
"It's nice to finally know what her name is. That would have come in handy when I was trying to calm her down. Then again, it would have given the others more power over her." The foreboding words come from a skeletal figure lurking on the staircase, fear seizes my heart.
Atlas pushes me behind his back, and Andromeda locks her arm around mine as we brace ourselves against the newcomer. With a knife in my hand, and one in Andromeda's, Atlas alone holds no weapon. Instead, he widens his stance and holds his arms up in a show of peace.
"Why aren't you at the meeting? I thought you liked to lead things, or is that all just a show?" Atlas demands, and I realize he's hoping to distract the man, give us time to run. But his words are ignored, and our backs are up against a wall.
"Unfortunately for Sasha, Abel was worried she'd cause damage to his home, so she's been pretty sedated the past few days. I honestly don't think it's helped her predicament any." Cold, blue eyes lock onto my own, and I snap my teeth shut to hold back a gasp.
"Tell me, Witch," he continues, his tone taunting and amused. "How did your friend get stuck in between worlds? The rest of the Council thought she'd gone mad, and it's obviously more than astral projection gone wrong... but I want to know what's happened to her soul. Do you think it's torn in half by this point, or just stretched from our side to the Shadow World?"
Blood rushes to my head as anger and terror convert into adrenaline, and I'm glad there's nowhere to run. I'm ready for a fight.
Only one fireball manages to graze Bowens shoulder before Andromeda pulls me around Atlas and into the nearest bedroom.
"What are you doing," I shriek. "I almost had hi
m!"
She's busy blocking the door, Elara darts about the room in agitation. Atlas and Kamali are still in the hallway, and I can hear the two men fighting on the other side of the wall.
"Why did you leave him out there? He could be hurt!" My questions are frantic and distorted with emotion, but she knows who I'm referring to.
"He'll be fine, he's got a serval on his side. We need to move fast if we're going to get out of here with our own necks though." Throwing open a set of doors Andromeda begins ransacking the place, keeping an iron plated knife wedged haphazardly between her belt loops.
A loud thump precedes the sound of breaking glass, and I flinch, not knowing whose body caused the sound. "We've already been through here. Sasha's not in here, and neither is a way out!"
Andromeda tosses her mess of hair behind her to better glare at me as she stands knee deep in the clothing she's wrenched to the floor. "You said to look for an attic," she snaps. "So, look. Maybe before your sweetheart gets his ass kicked and can't help us carry Sasha out of here."
Another crash shakes the wall, and angry voices trickle through the air as I spring into action behind her. My hands feel frantically around me for a light switch, or a cord to an attic door, anything to reveal the room we know we must have missed.
Elara shoves her way in, prancing between us with maniacal leaps that cause our legs to tremble and trip.
“What the?” As I lose my balance and twist to avoid the blade at Andromeda's hip, my elbows bang against the closet wall. Instead of the wooden wall I was expecting, my arm grazes against a raw crystal, and I cry out in pain and surprise.
Magic has many dialects, but some things are universal, and the rock set in the wall is my salvation.
"Here," I breathe, letting enough sparks heat my fingers to illuminate the rough rock. In the flickering light, I see a small smear of my blood is caught on an edge, and Andromeda reaches down to wipe it clean even as my hand drifts towards it.
"Ready?" She asks, but I'm already running my hands along the stone, searching for a way to make it move. The sound of the bedroom door being forced open causes me to flinch back, and as I do, my fingers brush against a crystal, turning it like a knob.
The closet wall slides back and into itself, opening up to a pitch-black stairway, barely large enough for me to walk through sideways. How far up is unclear, and the stale air hits our faces with a quiet whoosh.
"Whoa, talk about creepy. And here I thought I was the dramatic one," Andromeda notes, placing her hand reassuringly at her knife handle.
In the bedroom beyond her, the dresser crashes over, metal clinking as the wood splinters across the floor, but I'm already running into the dark. Blinded, covered in a cold sweat, and fighting a panic attack as it threatens to overthrow my senses, I'm running towards my sister.
At the top of the stairs is an opening. I nearly jump through in my hurry to Sasha, but as I struggle to peer through the dark, I know we aren't alone.
Chapter 26: Tania
MY EYES STRAIN AGAINST the shadows, as the voices in my head echo outside of my ears, multiplying and resounding in the seemingly small space. Twisted, urgent, and deadly, the sounds move from my side, to behind my back and a frozen hand grabs at my shoulder before every voice bolsters into a pained cry.
Relenting, I summon fire to my arms, allowing the flames to lick their way up my elbows, and play between the strands of hair swinging down to my neck. I never wanted such a chaotic talent, but I'm not ready to die yet either, so I'll embrace it when I must.
In the dancing light I carry, Sasha's silhouette becomes visible. True to Bowens word, she's unconscious, and curled into a ball as if only sleeping. I step closer to her, intending to rouse her, or try to carry her down to the others, but a chill creeps up my neck despite the flames, and I stop short.
Wicked forms surround me, and one by one, the three shadows solidify into nearly tangible beings. Visible, but transparent, and each one facing me with a different intention. I know Sasha's on the floor, just past them, but my mind can't comprehend the sight before me, and I don't know what senses to trust... because two more Sasha's are standing before me, writhing in pain and anguish.
They're not real, they can't touch me. Only they might be, and the only thing holding me back are the bracelets at my wrists.
Sasha is lying on the ground, they just knocked her out. Except, she's not moving, and I have no proof she isn't already dead... and tonight's the new moon.
I'm too late. But then Atlas is there, pushing me down, as Andromeda unleashes the familiars onto the false Sasha's, and my panic is forced back into the tiny box where it belongs.
The animals hold the spirits at bay, one laughing at me, the other crying, as Atlas scoops up my sister's limp form from where she lay abandoned on a wooden floor. Following him down the stairs, and falling against the narrow walls, I catch a closer look at the third figure shrieking at our leave. Mangled, furious, and longing to suffocate me, the dead woman raises her hand to point at me while we take our leave.
The cats don't let her pass, and then I'm jumping over the unconscious form of a Council member. Outside, beneath the indigo sky, I light Atlas' way to the car, and Andromeda spurs us on with breathless commands and pleas for safety. We leave another residence behind in ruins, this time speeding through quiet, tree lined roads with Sasha in my arms.
Pressing her face against my shoulder and sobbing in the backseat, I'm relieved to feel her heartbeat steadily keeping her tethered to me. She's just as thin as I last saw her, and just as pale, but now jagged nail marks scar her face and arms as though she, or someone else were trying to rip her skin from her bones.
From the front seat, Atlas too, is crying. His broad shoulders shake with shock, as tears silently roll down to his jaw, and his hands tremble at their place on the steering wheel.
"I don't know how Jason is supposed to be fine now," he croaks. "Bowens was tipped off. He knew we'd be there... Nova... Nova," his voice breaks off before he can finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. Nova, with her fear of the Council and Elliot's hatred of me, must have turned Atlas in to protect her husband.
Atlas has been betrayed, and identified, and even if helping Andromeda and I weren't damning enough, he attacked Bowens. There's no way he can stay in Hildrun after this.
Sasha's safe in my arms, and she'll be safer soon, after I finish my business with the sidhe. That all is good; I was okay sacrificing my life for her. I just never bargained on sacrificing Atlas' along the way.
"I swear to you," Andromeda's saying from the passenger's seat. "Jason is going to be fine. So are you, trust me, you have a good life ahead of you... even if it isn't here. I'm so sorry."
Glancing back at me, she hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder. "We both are."
I nod silently in agreement, and smooth Sasha's hair away from her face, choosing to instead focus on my baby sister. My Bug. I don't know where we went wrong, what fight reduced her to this, but I can't burn the succulent like she wants me to. She may have loved Robert, but she deserves to live a full life, not to die at twenty because she lost him. Carefully, I place the bangle from Atlas onto her wrist, and then add the tiger's eye necklace from my own throat. Just in case.
"We're here," Atlas announces. "What's the plan?"
Andromeda and I glance at each other in an uncomfortable understanding. "We finish what Sasha started," I answer him. "We're having a seance, and once Sasha answers from the other side, we're pulling her back over."
Atlas looks horrified as he helps me move Sasha from the back seat, and I can't blame him. It's an absolutely terrible plan. I know the sidhe is on its way, and who knows what else we might pull over the Veil with Sasha? Still, we have no other choice.
This time we make no effort to conceal our trespassing, after all, it's only a matter of time before someone finds Bowens. Instead, I hurl a fireball at the front door, and stroll in, calling the spare flames back to my hand once it falls.
The h
ouse is unchanged; just as damp and cold as before, and as we make our way to the daisy room, Andromeda and I have to step over the tiny white blooms that blossom at our feet. The light rain slides down the grime and plywood covered windows, and Tempest magic is at play. There's three of us together now, and the miniscule blossoms are promising transformation even as lightning cracks above our heads.
Atlas rests Sasha cautiously on a sofa, and she stirs slightly, the sedatives Bowens had mentioned are thankfully wearing off. "Don't worry, Bug," I murmur against her forehead. "I'm going to put you right again. You're going to be okay."
Pulling the carefully bundled pachyveria glauca out of my bag, I nestle it safely in her arms, then join Andromeda on the floor. The gaping hole that lies threateningly beside us is still stained with my blood, and I shake my head at the sight, desperate to clear new whispers from my ear.
Reluctantly, I hand the scrying mirror over to Andromeda, avoiding the black, glittering reflection of its glass as she reaches for it. She lays the mirror in the middle of our newly grown flower bed and places a single candle on the center of its face. Waiting.
A few seconds pass in silence, then Atlas too, sinks to the ground, and I find myself in his arms. The embrace is sure, protective, and full of care. I am so scared, and so tired of being in fear, that such simple human contact takes me off guard, but it's so relieving, I can't help but relax against his chest, reveling in the momentary peace.
"If we survive this," he whispers. "I'm asking you out, and I hope you say yes because, at the very least, I'm going to need somewhere to stay while I find a new home. Sleeping on your couch is going to be really awkward if you don't like me."
It's so like him to approach me with such a ridiculous statement, that I can almost forget where we are. Reaching up to gently hold his face, I allow myself to give this kind soul a single kiss on the cheek. In any other circumstance, I could have fallen for him from the moment I saw that first crooked grin in his laugh. But that's not our life, and there's no way a witch and mage could safely attempt a life together.
Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels) Page 19