Cora (Of Earth or Erda)

by Skye, Relina

  His warm, brown eyes searched mine. “Did you find it?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I don’t even remember being there. I don’t remember anything before you found me. Well, I had a couple of glimpses of past events, but beyond that…” I shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “What did the healers say?” he asked as he touched the side of my head that slammed into the pole.

  “I haven’t seen them. My injuries have healed themselves. But my amnesia is still present.”

  “You always were a quick healer.” Ian’s hand dropped. “But you don’t remember anything?”

  “Kacie thinks it’s a magically-induced form of amnesia. She’s looking for a counter spell with my mother.”

  Ian visibly cringed when I said “my mother.” His intense stare locked onto the space beyond me for a moment. “What can I do to help? You came to me for a reason.”

  “After I got off the ferry, I was picked up by one of the Silver Shore members, a cop. He took me to the hospital to have his friend, who is a doctor, help him strip me of my powers.”

  The color drained from Ian’s face.

  “I realized what I was before they could get to that point. Obviously, I escaped and had to use a masking spell to get out of the city.”

  “You performed a masking spell?” He looked at me like I just turned into a hydra. “Cora, you’ve never done any sort of transfiguration or shape-shifting spells before.”

  “Really? It wasn’t hard. Just very draining.”

  His head tilted. “It’s not natural for you. That’s why it drains your magic reserves. Just out of curiosity, could you tell me how you did it?”

  My jaw nearly dropped, but I didn't let it. “You’re more interested in how I transformed than hearing about the witches that are more than happy to strip someone of their magic if given the opportunity?”

  He gave me a hard look. “Cora, given the opportunity to gain more powers, most of the witches and wizards we know would drain any rogue of theirs.”

  I bit my tongue. Deep down, I sensed he agreed with the practice. I felt it was wrong and unethical. Even if I hadn't nearly endured the experience, I know that I would still feel the same way. Okay, there was one example, and only one, that I could think of when draining a witch’s powers should be used. If, and only if, a rogue witch who posed a threat to the coven was immune to binding spells, then stripping them of their powers would be justified. Otherwise, it felt evil.

  Avoiding further discussion on the matter, I didn't hesitate to continue after he made his point. "Anyway, the reason why I came to see you is because I spotted one of the Silver Shore members who tried to strip me of my powers on the train on my way home. He was also using a masking spell."

  "He followed you home?" Ian's head tilted down as his eyes widened.

  "No." I paused. "Not that I'm aware of, besides I was still masked at the time. Even if he got off at the next stop and backtracked, Kacie picked me up before he could follow me any further than the road leading away from the train station."

  "Still, Cora, you made yourself known to a rival coven. There might be consequences."

  "Oh, there are consequences, all right. I've identified them as the ones who attacked us during my first Beltane. If anything, they crossed the line first. And now we know who they are."

  His eyes widened again as that bit of information sunk into his brain. "Even if that’s true, it's your word against theirs. The National Council of Covens could throw sanctions at us and demand we pay a fine to the Silver Shore Coven."

  "My word against his? Do you even hear yourself?" Anger caused my well to bubble. "See, see, see, Ian Mead, see the connections between that first night and last night."

  Ian's head drooped forward. Images from my mind's eye flew into his. The men with the tattoos on their chests, standing in the field, and their words vibrating through the air. Fast forward past my coupling with Graham to our fight, and Ian saw a clear image of the scar I left on his face. Various scenes from the battle struck his head like hundreds of bubbles bursting on contact. Each of the Silver Shore witches had a similar tattoo inked somewhere on their bodies.

  Time sped forth, catapulting over the abyss of my memory to my car ride with Officer Swift. I let Ian feel what I felt as I lay helpless at the hands of the other wizards. The last images were of the four cops at the platform, and then Graham's scar as I exited the train.

  When Ian's head lifted, he looked a bit green. "Get out."

  My eyes narrowed; and as I lifted my chin, I carefully stated, "Now, it's our word against theirs, and I can always do that again if questioned. As your High Priestess, I want you to pick several transfiguration specialists to patrol our borders. We need eyes in the air and on the ground twenty-four/seven." I stood, not because he wanted me to leave, but because I was done there.

  Chapter Seven

  Leaving Ian so abruptly gave me mixed feelings. Once my anger burned off, a gaping hole sunk into the middle of my chest, drawing tears to my eyes.

  Obviously, we were about the same age and our relationship was stronger than just casual acquaintances. Were we more than friends? Lovers even? Perhaps, but I wasn’t completely sure. I only knew he would never look at me the same again. How could he? I forced a vision on him in anger. And not just any vision, but one that was deeply personal to me.

  In the greater scheme of things, it didn't seem to matter anyway. I had a hunch if I couldn't recover my memories, my coven members would strip me of my powers and take them for themselves. My only chance was on Kacie and my mother, and the hope they could find a better counter spell than the one they were discussing earlier. Another question that burned just under my skin was whether or not I could trust them. So far, they hadn't done or said anything too awful to me. Yes, Kacie could become High Priestess if she wanted to, but she could also have been stripped of her powers, since she served me. No one would want her to rise to power just to take revenge.

  I greeted several coven members who were carting in the groceries that we couldn't grow on our farm. They all came in through the front door. I gave them a hand with some of the heavy lifting before wishing them a good night. Once I reached the library, I hoped it was the right location since it was based on the map I saw earlier in the evening. I entered, expecting to find it empty of everyone, save my mother and sister. I was wrong.

  Apparently, if you were between the ages of thirteen to nineteen, this was the place to hang out. Several groups of kids lounged on sofas. Some played board games at the tables, while others were logged on the computers or tablets.

  Tuning my hearing to locate my mother and sister’s voices, I followed their muttering to the restricted section all the way up on the second floor.

  "There you are! I was starting to think you ran out on your coven again." My mother frowned. Her disappointment in me dripped from every fiber of her being like rainwater running down the side of a building. “Really, Cora, it’s your own fault you’re in this situation. You could at least try to help us find a solution.”

  “You’re right, Mother. Putting extra security measures in place could have waited.” I did my best to look ashamed even though I was really being sarcastic.

  Kacie stepped between us. “We found several spells that could help your condition. But we need to figure out if the amnesia is natural or magical.”

  That made sense. I could definitely see the rationality in that; the spell had to be more advanced if the amnesia were magical rather than natural. “How do we do that?”

  “We’ll have to consult either the master or mistress of the healing arts,” Kacie whispered. Her brows shot up. “I know you want to keep this quiet, but you should at least tell your council. If they find out what happened second-hand, or worse, weeks from now, they’ll lose all their faith in you.”

  Rubbing my face with my hands, I wondered if telling my council wouldn’t be like jumping into a tank full of sharks. But at the same time, Kacie was right about them losing the
ir faith in me. Besides, Ian was on the council and he already knew.

  “Fine. Let’s go see one of them. If it turns out to be natural, maybe it will just fade with time. But if it’s magical…”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it,” my mother chimed in while she gathered some of the spell books they were skimming though.

  Heading back upstairs, I followed Kacie toward the Master of Healing's office. "Mistress Rhiannon Archer has this two-hour block scheduled with her group of Tyros," Kacie informed me right before knocking on a door. "But Master Ben Fletcher should be available."

  "It's open!" came the voice from deep within.

  Kacie entered a large, rectangular office, the size and shape of which were the same as Ian’s, but the contents of the bookshelves were vastly different. Vials and potions cluttered the rows and ledges along the entire length of one wall. Little stickers were printed and stuck to the bottom of each shelf, indicating the name of the potion sitting above, as well as on the vials and potions, themselves. On the opposite wall was a cot covered in disposable paper. Charts filled with various medical facts occupied the rest of the free spaces. The only books in the room were scattered either on the desk in front of the back window, or on the built-in shelf space that encircled it.

  "I'm back here. Come in, come in, and don’t be shy!" called the same high-pitched male voice.

  "Master Fletcher?" Kacie inquired before entering the man's private quarters.

  "Kacie King!" chimed his greeting. "How good of you to visit me! Oh, and you brought your lovely mother too. It's been too long since the last time I saw you, Claudia. Oh! And your sister is present as well! High Priestess, I did not see you there."

  A tall, lanky man with sun-kissed skin and a thick head of golden blonde hair greeted us with a warm smile. Wearing a lab coat stained with clashing colors, he stepped around one of several cauldrons bubbling in his kitchen. Other scientific equipment lay scattered across his dining room table and the prep portion of his kitchen island.

  He crossed the room to give an air kiss to both cheeks on our mother's face. "Silver Isles suits you, Claudia."

  "Thank you, Ben. It's good to see you too."

  Next, he gave air kisses to Kacie before turning toward me.

  "Good evening, Master Fletcher. I hope we weren't disturbing you."

  "Nah, thanks to you, I have more free time to work on my potions. Now, I don't get the feeling this is a social visit. Would you like to stay in here? Or shall we go into my office?"

  "Here is fine for right now, although we'll likely be going into your office in a few minutes."

  The light dimmed slightly in his eyes, but he kept the smile on his lips.

  "Ben, dear, do you still have that tea I like?" Mother interrupted.

  "Yes, of course I do." He turned to go fetch her a cup.

  "Good, stay there, I'll make it myself." She waltzed around him and into his kitchen.

  The smile fell from his lips as he watched my mother go. "The kettle should have enough hot water for at least one cup. Please don't touch any of the other burners."

  Mother waved her hand in dismissal. "Don't fret. Your potions are safe. You won't even find any evidence I was in here when I'm done."

  Not wanting the man to get overly paranoid, I placed my hand on his arm to draw his attention back to me.

  "Master Fletcher, I have a medical issue.”

  His gaze swiftly shifted from my mother to me. After we were seated on his couches, I went into detail about what happened over the last two days. The only time I paused was when he asked a question, or Kacie wanted to add her observation.

  "I really wish you hadn't waited so long to come and see me. Even though you say the ringing in your ears has stopped and you feel fine, there may be other physical symptoms present that elude your conscious frame of mine."

  Nodding slowly, I chose the path of humbling myself instead of throwing my pride in his face. "You're right. It was a poor decision on my part to wait so long to see you. I thought because I felt better that I was fully recovered."

  "A poor sense of judgment is a common symptom of head injuries." He raised a brow at my mother and sister. "Neither one of you thought it wise for her to come see me or Rhiannon right away?"

  Kacie seemed to spot something on the floor she found interesting because her eyes wouldn't meet his.

  "Oh, you know how overly dramatic Cora can be." My mother clicked her tongue. "She's been fit as a fiddle her entire life. You should have heard her as a child trying to get out of Mabel Miller's classes. She was always coming up with some new illness or injury to avoid that saintly woman. I just took this whole amnesia nonsense as a cover-up for some sort of imaginary cabin fever."

  "I thought we could deal with her amnesia on our own," Kacie muttered.

  Ben's eyes looked like they might have bugged out of his head for a split second as my mother spoke, but his gaze softened a little toward Kacie.

  "Was that the woman who used to zap me for participating in class?" I asked. The three of them exchanged looks. "I had a vision after Putnam drugged me. An old woman was teaching a class full of kids and she kept zapping me because I forgot to raise my hand. I think she was Donald’s great, great, grandmother." My shoulders shrugged. "If not for that vision, I wouldn't have been able to figure out what Putnam and Swift were up to."

  Ben's frown deepened. "Any other visions besides that one?"

  I turned my gaze toward my sister. Her hands went up in the air. "You made me take a blood oath not to say anything, remember?"

  Now, I was staring at the ground. "Yes, I remember." With a deep breath, I shared the details of my other vision with Ben.

  "Well, the good news is: it sounds like your memories are still somewhere locked up in your mind. The bad news is: we have to figure out if we can access them, or just let them come back to you on their own." Standing, he motioned for me to join him in his office.

  My gut stayed silent, so I decided I should continue to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Upon entering his office, I gave his wall of concoctions another glance. "Are they all healing potions?" I asked.

  Pride radiated off his person like the rays of the sun on a cloudless day. "No, they aren't. The ones on the top shelf that I need a ladder to reach, are rarely used anymore. Things like cures for plagues, potions to hold off the infestation of certain bugs, and even one to preserve food. The middle shelves are the potions I regularly use, such as cures for poison ivy and the common cold. The ones on the bottom are a bit trickier." He bent down to pick one up. "This one is a water maker. It will create a fog so thick, you can cut it with a knife...” He placed it back on the shelf. "This one is a love potion. Don't tell the teenagers about it! They might think it’s a good thing to make someone fall in love with you; but trust me, it's not.” Once it was back on the shelf, he picked up the one next to it. "A sleeping potion. It will cause everyone, including the bearer of it, to fall asleep unless you ingest this little sucker previously." His index finger pointed at one of the vials sitting next to it on a small rack.

  "Wow, Ben. I'm really impressed. It must have taken you forever to create all of them."

  He really was handsome when he smiled. "The credit goes to Grace Merdoch; she taught me everything she knew before her powers faded." A frown replaced the smile.

  "Even without her powers, I'm sure she's still very proud of your accomplishments."

  "I wouldn't know.” A deep sadness etched his lips into a frown. "She left the coven before your tenure as High Priestess. I don't even know where they sent her."

  "There has to be a record of where she went. Maybe it's in the archive section of the library? And you know what, Ben? If I survive all this, I'll help you look for her."

  "I'd like that. You know, she taught me that even the weakest witches can be powerful with the right potions."

  Lying down on the cot, I felt a warm feeling for Ben growing in my chest. Not a romantic one, but one
of respect.

  "Unfortunately, this isn't something I can cure with a potion. I'll have to use my magic to scan your skull and brain to make sure there are no further injuries. Then I'm going to dig a little deeper and try to access your memories using telepathy. Now, my abilities with that sort of magic are not that strong. But they should at least allow me to get an idea what we're dealing with, understand?"

  "Yes. I understand."

  "Good, now try to clear your mind and close your eyes. Take deep, even breaths."

  I did as I was told. It was his way of telling me to drop my guard before allowing his magic to enter my head.

  Ben placed his long, slender hands on my skull. Warmth seeped through his skin into mine. My vision blurred as my hearing dulled.

  "Again!" Standing nearly six foot tall, the High Priestess marched between our lines. Wearing an emerald green and brown tracksuit with our coven's name and symbol on the back, she made something that normally would look so casual seem regal.

  Each of us stood about ten feet away from the person in front of us, with about twenty feet separating us from the next person to our sides.

  Several different groups were present. Some were wearing light green shirts with silver chalices on their backs, another group had on light blue shirts with several small islands, others wore yellow shirts with hills, and the last group had on red shirts with a silver cauldron. We were all paired up with someone wearing a different color than ours. That way, we could learn how to spar with someone whose elemental magic was different from our own.

  Various forms of magic coalesced deep inside my inner well of powers. Most witches and wizards favored one form of elemental magic over all the others. Some were lucky to host a secondary elemental power source that fed their wells. As for me, my powers felt out of balance. Neither earth, air, water, fire, life nor death magic surpassed any other element by much. Earth and air magic were practically equal, taking up more than half the space in my inner well, and quick to replenish. Fire magic came from another generation that was at least once removed from my mother and sperm donor father. Water magic was added from outside sources taken from the men I coupled with during the high holidays, and the slowest one to replenish itself. The life magic was innate to all witches and wizards. It came from the choices we made and only replenished if they were positive in nature. What puzzled me the most was my death magic. It lurked at the bottom of my well, waiting to be called upon, but only in anger.