Light of Dawn

by Angela Colsin

  Whatever purpose the salt served, Chandra turned her piercing silver eyes to a short, fiery redhead who entered the room behind her. Next to the sorceress who was scantily clad in shimmering materials adorned with silver embellishments, the mortal looked rather plain in her tank top and denim shorts—not that Isaac could make out any details when the vision in his good eye was blurry and deteriorating.

  “You see, Edith,” Chandra began. “Isaac's been reduced to a sad, sickly thing who needs a few drops of virgin blood so he can go about antagonizing everyone he knows. Personally, I wouldn't mind leaving him this way, but I made a promise, and it's one I won't break.”

  Because speaking was becoming too painful to accomplish, Isaac settled on rolling his eyes.

  “And it seems his voice is gone as well,” Chandra announced in mild surprise. “I'm regretting this promise more and more.”

  Isaac couldn't see Edith's expression clearly, but it looked as if she'd pursed her lips, probably in uncertainty about the ghastly corpse laying on the bed.

  “And how will my blood help, exactly?” she asked.

  “Let's just say for now that it's symbolic of purity,” the sorceress answered. “For as wrong as mortal society is about only being clean by abstaining from sex, such massive idealism gives virgin blood a good bit of power to utilize, particularly in breaking curses.”

  Stepping behind Edith, Chandra further qualified, “Still, I've an idea. You said you've practiced the Craft, and even more proficient at breaking curses than virgin's blood is a virgin in the flesh. So would you care to try yourself? With my assistance of course.”

  Edith exchanged a brief glance with Charlotte, then admitted, “I wouldn't wanna make a mistake and turn him into a frog or something.”

  Chandra smirked as if the thought was amusing. “Even existence as a frog would be preferable to his current condition. Unless he's a rotting frog, I suppose.”

  Isaac sighed. Still not as bad as some of the shit I've been through.

  “That's true,” Edith conceded. “What would I have to do?”

  “It's very simple, actually,” the sorceress replied, placing a hand on the mortal's left shoulder while leaning in to speak at her right ear. “Close your eyes and hold out your palm upright.”

  Edith took a breath, then complied, lifting her right hand as her eyes shut.

  Chandra then raised the saltshaker, pouring some into her palm while directing, “Now envision his curse as something you could tangibly see, like wisps of energy curling around his body, clinging for dear life and causing him to rot.”

  Closing Edith's fist around the salt, she went on, “Curses suck life away to feed their energy, binding their target. So focus on it, and use this fist to break that grip and dissolve the unwanted force.”

  Edith remained motionless, but as the sorceress directed her, a bright, white light began forming in her hand, the rays shooting out between her fingers. Isaac doubted the mortal even knew it was happening—but the way Chandra was coaching her made him suspicious.

  “Good,” Chandra commended. “Now repeat after me.”

  One after the other, the two of them began repeating phrases of a chant, and soon, their voices united to speak the words together. As the chant grew in speed, the power Edith built up seemed to erupt from her fist much like a spark, and flew through the air toward Isaac's body.

  The moment it hit, it engulfed him in a pure white light, and immediately, he could feel the effects of the curse fading away. Just like that, it was over, and his natural ability to regenerate wouldn't take long to kick in and heal the damage.

  In the aftermath, Edith opened her eyes, looking on in confusion. “What just happened?”

  “You've successfully broken his curse in a single try,” Chandra answered, then inquired of Isaac, “I trust you're feeling relieved now?”

  Isaac groaned just as Ulric mentioned for him, “Pretty sure he'll be himself again before the hour's out. Thanks, Chandra.”

  Chandra didn't verbally acknowledge the draconian's gratitude, and merely inclined her head. “Now that my work is done, Edith, if you've time, I'd like to borrow you.”

  “Okay,” Edith agreed without qualm—and Isaac's suspicion grew.

  As it turned out, that suspicion wasn't unfounded.

  When Chandra removed her hand from Edith's shoulder and directed her to the door, the mortal turned around to reveal a mark on her flesh where the sorceress' palm once rested.

  The mark of an apprentice.

  He stared at the blurry, triangular shape until the woman disappeared, trying to let the meaning of it sink in. Holy shit. It's her.

  Edith was his mate.

  The curse had weakened him too much to allow him to sense what she was on his own, but just the day before, he'd related to Charlotte that her best friend's voice sounded questionably familiar.

  Now, it was apparent that he'd been hearing it in his dreams.

  Isaac's gut suddenly clenched with want, and he nearly shot up off the mattress in an attempt to intercept Edith before she could leave. But his muscles were still atrophied from the curse, his bones brittle, preventing him from getting very far.

  Seeing his reaction, Chandra actually smiled, mentioning on her way to the door, “I believe I've finally found what you've so longed for me to take, Isaac, which means I should depart. There's much work to be done, after all, and I'm certain you wouldn't want me to delay.”

  Damn it! As she exited the bedroom, Isaac impatiently waved a hand at Charlotte—being a sun fae, she could heal him more quickly.

  But the human-turned-fae was momentarily confused. “What? Oh, right, sorry. I keep forgetting what I can do as a fae,” she drew out more slowly than he would've liked while walking over to help him.

  Ulric, on the other hand, knew all about the prophecy, and with recognition dawning in his cobalt eyes, he suggested, “You should hurry, sweetness. Isaac wants to see Edith again before she leaves.”

  With her hands on Isaac's shoulders and bright, warm light seeping into his body to regenerate him, Charlotte asked, “Oh? Why's that?”

  Isaac didn't answer, pulling away from her grip the moment he felt capable of walking again, and rushed out of the room to find his mate before she departed.

  But it was too late—they were already gone.

  “Fuck! Sonofafuckingbitchgoddamnit shit!”

  Charlotte hurried out of the room at his excessive swearing, exclaiming, “What?”

  Following more casually, Ulric qualified, “Edith is his mate, Charlotte.”

  “What?” Baffled, she looked between them with widened eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, Chandra marked her before they left. Means she was impressed by Edith's performance and wants to train her as a mage.”

  As he went on to explain the prophecy, Isaac scrubbed his fingers through his hair—or what was left of it after rotting away. He couldn't just stand around doing nothing, and asked Charlotte as soon as he got the chance, “Where does Edith live? Chandra might've taken her there.”

  “No way, Isaac,” the fae shook her head. “I'm not passing out my best friend's address, I don't care if she is your mate.”

  “Just calm down, Isaac,” Ulric began. “She's Charlotte's best friend, so Edith will come back to say goodbye before Chandra takes her to Mystikkar.”

  Taking a deep breath, Isaac growled out his frustration, which wasn't wholly caused by the fact that he'd missed his chance to talk to Edith before she left. He also wanted the opportunity to actually recognize her as his and put a stop to the damned prophetic dreams he'd been having every time he drifted off to sleep.

  Still, he reluctantly agreed, getting Charlotte's promise to let him see her friend by giving his word that he wouldn't reveal she was his mate. It was an easy promise to make considering such knowledge would only frighten Edith, and he'd probably done a bang up job of that already just being a rotting corpse.

  But Edith never returned. Instead, she called Charlot
te a few hours later to let her know she'd accepted Chandra's proposal to train, and might not get a chance to visit again in the near future.

  When Charlotte inquired if it was possible for her to come by before she left, the mortal declined, stating her new instructor claimed to have some time sensitive business to handle in Mystikkar.

  And Isaac wasn't buying that bullshit for a second.

  Chandra was just getting back at him for the way he'd hounded her, knowing his irritating dreams would continue until he met Edith face to face without a curse weakening his senses. Sadly, this meant the blood oath he'd taken to refrain from interfering with her training insured he had no hope of meeting her anytime soon—and he didn't even want to think of how long it could take.

  Some men would've diligently waited with ease, but Isaac wasn't one of them. Fuck diligence, lottery winners don't wanna wait six weeks for their check, and neither do I.

  But the damage was done, and he only hoped his ruthless ability to survive worked in his favor here.

  Otherwise he was about to go on the longest bender in the history of immortal-kind.