Stolen Secret

by Emily Kimelman Gilvey

  “Why did Senil send you to me?” Her voice came out tight; she didn’t trust me.

  “Past-life regression.”

  Charity nodded, as if that wasn’t a weird thing to say. I nodded along with her, trying to convince myself this made sense. Why not? With all the new information I’d learned in the last few months, why not believe in past-life regressions?

  Because it means I wasn’t just me. I was the woman who ruled seventy worlds. I was the woman my father loved. The creature Senil spent more than a century obsessing over…

  Charity turned and opened the smaller hutch. The scent of dried thyme spilled into the room. She pulled out a jar filled with smudge sticks—herbs wrapped tight.

  She removed one and put the jar back. “Thyme?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, and some sage to keep mischievous spirits from warping the memories.”

  “Naturally.” She met my gaze, a question in her eyes. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not familiar with this stuff.”

  “Witches’ work,” Charity said, closing the cabinet. She moved around the tight space to the fire and drew a long, thin twig from the pile of wood next to the hearth. She dipped it into the flames, then set the smudge stick alight.

  The scent of the herbs grew stronger as they burned. “Come.” She waved me over to the low bed. “Lie down.”

  I moved around the table, leaving my tea steaming on the table. Removing my boots, I put them under the bed before swinging my legs up onto the fur. “Close your eyes.”

  “Can you tell me a little about this?”

  Charity pulled the chair up next to the bed. She sat before answering. “I’ll put you into a hypnotic state, and you’ll go back to where you need to go.”

  “How do you know where I need to go?”

  She gave me a half smile. “It’s not me. It’s you. I just open the passage way.”

  “A warlock can’t do it?”

  She shook her head. “It’s witches’ work.”

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Charity shifted above me, waving her energy up and down my body. I smelled the thyme as she moved.

  “Take deep, even breaths,” Charity said.

  I filled my belly with air and let it out slowly several times. The cabin swayed gently with Charity’s movements as she continued to circle my body with the smudge stick. “Listen to my voice. Relax deeply.”

  Between the rocking, deep breaths, and mix of thyme and chamomile in the air, I drifted at the edge of sleep.

  “Listen to the sounds around us.” Water shifting beneath the cabin, wood gently creaking, the fire crackling. “Now, become present to the smells.” The thyme and chamomile, wood smoke, and Charity’s personal fragrance embedded in the place.

  “You’re totally relaxed now.” Very true. “We are going to let this body rest. Take the stairs in front of you.”

  I envisioned myself in front of a stairwell. Light poured down the steps to where I stood. I started climbing, the light growing blinding.

  “You’re entering a garden.”

  The light softened, and I stepped onto short grass. An amazing garden spread around me—ornamental trees heavy with fruit, bright flowers circled by butterflies. “There are mirrors, do you see the mirrors?” They swung from tree branches and lay between the flowers, sat propped against rocks, and one large one leaned against a tree trunk.

  “Find the mirror you need to find.”

  An instinct pulled me to the largest mirror. It reflected the sky and flowering tree branches above it. As I walked up to it, my reflection became clear—I wore the same leather pants and shirt I’d put on after my shower.

  “Step into the mirror,” Charity said.

  I raised a socked foot and stepped into the mirror. My foot disappeared into the reflective surface. “Are you on the other side?” I continued through, emerging into a dark, warm space. “Look at your feet.”

  Leather sandals covered my bare feet. In front of them, a stringed instrument I’d never seen before leaned against the wooden wall, a bow next to it. Taller than a violin with a very round base, almost like a gourd, the instrument had six strings. An emerald was set into the base of the fret.

  “Now scan up your body.” Charity’s voice reached me. I itched to grab up the strange instrument and try to play it but focused on my body as Charity directed. I wore a white dress, the skirt loose and falling to my knee, the bodice tight and buttoned in the front.

  “Look around. Where are you?”

  I lifted my gaze. Oh snap.

  The shifter god, Felix, stood in front of a cauldron. In the opposite corner, a girl wearing shackles cried. Another shifter—this one in human form, his gold tattoos glittering in the fire light—waited by the girl, ready to bring her when called.

  The scene that Ophelia showed me in her hands.

  Felix pulled his knife and sliced it across his forearm. The tattooed shifter picked up the woman and began to pull her toward the cauldron. She collapsed at Felix’s hooves, huddling into a fetal position.

  I picked up the instrument and bow then moved forward. The captive begged quietly—her words unrecognizable but their tone unmistakable. She fears for her life. When I’d seen this play out in Ophelia’s hands, her fear infected me and shivers ran up my spine. Now it sparked the hunger in me. I liked it.

  Felix began to sing—a strange guttural sound. Throat singing. He met my gaze, his eyes yellow gold—gorgeous. Dangerous. I want him, but he loves another.

  I offered him my arm, and he cut it with his bloodied blade. No pain radiated from the wound, just a coldness. It bled into the cauldron, mixing into a swirling, shiny black liquid dotted with bright sparks of colored light.

  The wound on my arm healed slowly, the blood flow stopping. Felix continued the eerie singing. The shifter brought me a stool and I sat, opening my legs and setting the instrument between my knees.

  The throat singing rumbled through the room, vibrating in my chest, helping lead my bow as I drew it across the strings. The sound emerged from the instrument and filled the space. It vibrated through the instrument into my legs. My head fell back with pleasure.

  We make beautiful music together.

  Felix stopped singing, but I continued to play, the song taking on a life of its own, my bow moving by a divine hand. My hand. The shifter brought Felix a ladle. He dipped it into the potion. The shifter picked up the human. She struggled in his grip, but it was no use. Her weakness gives us strength.

  Felix grabbed her face, his fingers pressing into her cheeks and forcing her mouth open. The captive’s aura flashed pure black with fear—there wasn’t even a hint of hope. I continued to play. The song went on and on; it had no beginning and no end, just a constant rhythm.

  It wasn’t the song of the universe. This was something else. Something I’d written just for this spell.

  I knew it was a song that held the whole thing together.

  Felix fed the girl a ladle full of the potion. She gagged, sending some of it sputtering up and splashing her face. He poured more down her throat, and when she’d swallowed enough, Felix stepped back, his hooves scraping on the dirt floor.

  The pentagram on the ground glowed. The spell was set. The girl hung in the shifter’s arms, still alive but knowing only death waited for her. Felix nodded, and the shifter lowered her to the ground. She folded onto her knees. The tattooed shifter braced a hand on either side of her head.

  Her gaze found mine, and a smile curled my lips.

  The shifter gave a sudden twist, the captive’s neck snapped, and the light went out of her eyes.

  He dropped her on the ground.

  I continued to play.

  The song repeated but with one note added—a subtle shift. One I didn’t intellectually understand, but the feel of the music changed. Life shifted into death—but life did not end.

  The body on the floor stirred. The fingers twitched. Then her whole body writhed in a seizure, her limbs smacking the floor, head flopping.
/>
  I had to suppress a laugh. The girl’s struggle amused me. Amused me.

  “Darling, come back now,” Charity’s voice filled my ears, louder than the music. “Listen for the sounds in this room. Ground yourself again.”

  The music rose again, but I fought to hear the water, the sizzling fire.

  “Come back now.” Charity’s voice dropped an octave, becoming commanding and powerful.

  I blinked, the scene in front of me slowly fading and the small, cozy cabin coming back into focus.

  The warm tones of sunset filtered through the animal-hide windows. I went to sit up, and Charity took my hand, helping me rise. “Here.” She turned to the table and grabbed my tea, removing the strainer filled with flowers. She added a big spoonful of honey before passing it to me. The tea was tepid.

  I sipped at it, that song lingering in my mind.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. I met her gaze. “You look upset.”

  “I’ve always felt that I was a monster.” She didn’t say anything. “And today I learned why.”

  “Monster is as monster does, Darling.”

  I raised my brows.

  “You’re only a monster if you behave like one. You may have seen yourself do something horrible in a past life, but that doesn’t mean you’re horrible now. We can be redeemed even in the same lifetime, let alone over many.”

  “Says you.”

  She smiled. “Yes, says me.” She stood, stretching her arms above her head. Charity’s fingers brushed one of the tree trunk beams. “Are you hungry?” Her face paled. “I mean for food.”

  “I know. Don’t worry, I won’t take from you.” I gave her a half smile.

  “See,” she said, “a monster wouldn’t care about my opinion.”

  “A monster would enjoy your fear, your pain, and your death,” I said it quietly.

  Charity sat back down and put her hands on her knees. “Darling, I don’t know you well. But from what I’ve seen, you want what’s best. You’re trying to end zombies, not for your own gain but because it’s the right thing to do. You don’t enjoy other people’s pain or fear.”

  “I think I would if I let myself.” I looked down at the tea, the pale yellow liquid trembled in the cup. My hands were shaking. That song still played in my head. I’d never forget it. But I couldn’t recreate it without that instrument. And if I wanted to break the spell, I had to play the song.

  “But you don’t let yourself,” Charity said, bringing my attention back to her. “You fight for what’s right, Darling.” She frowned. “I wish I did too.”

  “Come with me.” The offer popped out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to say it.

  Her brows raised. “Come with you where?”

  “Wherever we have to go to end zombies.”

  Before she could answer, the cabin swayed. Someone had stepped onto the dock. We were out of time.

  Charity leapt to the door, opening the viewing hole. “Senil,” she said, her voice wavering with fear. “How did she find me here?”

  “I brought her,” I said, quietly.

  Charity’s gaze riveted to me, anger flying off her in disjointed waves. Betrayal threw a dark stain across her aura. I stood slowly. “Don’t run. I will keep you safe. She is on my side now.”

  She sneered at me. “You are a liar.” Charity crossed to her hutch and pulled out a capped bottle. The door flew open, framing Senil in the dying light of day. Charity threw the bottle at the entryway, the glass exploded, releasing a thick purple smoke into the small space.

  I coughed on the acrid scent. Senil released a horrible scream of anguish and pain that made the whole cabin vibrate. A splash followed.

  I reached out with my chi and found Charity on the roof, she slid down the steep grade and leapt gracefully onto the dock. The fear and anger was gone from her energy—the need to survive all that remained.

  Stumbling through the cabin, I found the dock and fresh air. Charity reached the shore. I let her go, turning my attention to the pond. Senil floated face down. Her body still, her light dull.

  Should I let her die?

  I couldn’t—Dimitri deserved her. Pulling her from the water, I laid her dripping, still form on the dock under the dark purple sky of early night. Frogs croaked, filling the evening with their mournful song.

  Closing my eyes, I followed Charity into the woods. She ran, her heart beating quickly. Still no fear, just survival. She had a plan.

  But I needed her help. I wrapped my power around her and, bringing Senil with me, pulled us all into the void.

  Issa perched on one of the long wooden tables in the warlocks’ library. I sat in a chair in front of him. Charity brooded in another. Issa listened attentively, his head cocked, as I told him about my past-life regression experience. He nodded when I finished. “You said there was an emerald set into the fret base of this instrument.” He nodded again, as if that meant something. “I’ve read every book in this library.” Issa gestured around the room.

  “That’s a lot of books.” My eyes ran over the walls—must be ten thousand volumes in here. “What a busy young vampire you’ve been,” I joked.

  He didn’t laugh. “I’ve analyzed your sister’s blood and compared it with yours. Tyronios and I have consulted, and we are certain that we can undo the spell… if we can get the instrument your ancestor used to bind it.”

  “I can draw you a picture of it. I’m sure we can find one. Or have one made.”

  Issa shook his head. “It must be the exact same instrument.”

  “Okay… where is it?” I asked.

  “I suspect it is in a world that has never known humans.” He paused.

  “What do you mean, it never knew humans?”

  He focused above my head, as though reading words written there. “There is one world, that we know of, where humans never came into existence. It is ruled by a dragon and populated mostly by pixies.”

  “Go on.” I sat forward.

  “As you know, there are as many worlds as possibilities. This is the only world in our records in which humans never came into existence. So, therefore, the zombie curse has not visited this realm.”

  “What makes you think the instrument is there?”

  “An account of a tribe of pixies that live at the base of a volcano where they claim an instrument as you’ve described, with the emerald in its frets, resides on a ledge just above the molten lava but never burns. It is their sworn duty to protect the instrument and prevent anyone unworthy from passing across their lands to reach the mountain.” A whisper of a smile crossed his lips. “It is called the Mountain of No Return.”

  Ominous much?

  “Okay…”

  “There is one way to be sure.”

  “What?”

  His gaze returned to mine. “You can visit your past life again and see what you did with the instrument.”

  “Right…” I need another past-life regression. I glanced over at Charity. Her mud-encrusted boots and wild hair coupled with the hostile look on her face and the anger flashing in her aura did not give me confidence she’d help. Issa followed my gaze.

  “You are very angry, witch,” he said. Thanks, Captain Obvious. Charity narrowed her eyes at him. “Senil did not harm you—”

  “Because I exploded a curse at her feet.”

  “She had no plans to hurt you,” Issa said, shrugging.

  “So she says,” Charity grumbled, clearly not believing Senil’s transformation from ragey ancient vampire, dead set on killing her, to happy-go-lucky ancient vampire working with us to end the zombie plague.

  “You do not believe her?” Issa asked.

  Charity rolled her eyes and sat forward. “No, I don’t believe her, or any vampire.” She shook her head a little. “None of you can be trusted.”

  Issa’s face remained passive. “That is true of most vampires. But those who have a relationship with Darling maintain some of their humanity.” His ice-blue eyes landed on me. “When I was a warlock,
I would have agreed with you entirely.” He turned back to Charity. “And even now, I feel the animal inside me that wants to tear you apart.” Charity’s brows jumped, and her hands balled into fists as her body stiffened, readying for a fight.

  Issa shook his head, a wistful smile teasing his mouth. “Dimitri lends me his power and control so that I may resist the urge. Also, my mind has begun to settle, and while I no longer feel the passion I once did—the insatiable drive to help people—I do have an intellectual curiosity that grows with each passing moment. Can I save them? I wonder now.”

  “You no longer hope to though,” Charity said. “Which is my point. You think of the survival of the human species as little more than a math problem.”

  Issa wet his lips, thinking. “Perhaps, but a tricky equation can easily drive a lifetime of pursuit. Many witches and warlocks have dedicated their lives to creating one spell, solving one riddle of the universe. Does it matter what drove them as long as they solved it?”

  Charity stood up, impatience radiating from her. “But how can I trust a species that can be so easily swayed. One minute Senil is determined to end me and the next she shows up at my door, drawn by Darling’s presence, to what? Make a house call?”

  “I wanted to apologize.” Charity whirled around. Senil stood at the far end of the library, her hair up in an elegant chignon and wearing a new cape—this one the same pale blue as a robin’s egg. She took a step toward us, revealing brown, low-heeled boots and a knit onesie in pure white. The vampire knew how to make an impression.

  Charity moved to the far side of the library table, her body stiff with fear. Senil stopped walking, her hands coming to clasp over her stomach.

  “I won’t let her hurt you,” I promised, standing. Charity glanced at me. “I’m very sorry that she showed up the way she did. It wasn’t on purpose.”

  “You call your familiars without trying?” Charity asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m new to this whole ‘familiar’ thing,” I admitted. Charity nodded slightly—she believed I was that naive. Awesomesauce.

  “I was drawn to you,” Senil said. “I—”

  Charity held up a hand, stopping the vampire’s words. “I don’t care.” She turned to me. “Here’s the deal. I’ll help you figure out this instrument thing. Then I’m going to leave this world, and none of you”—she looked over at Senil—“will follow me. Deal?”