The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2)

by Brittany Elise

  Annabelle and Shawn were standing by her locker when I walked up. She was laughing at something he said, and the smile on her face was bright enough to light up the entire hall. Since they’d started dating, Shawn was making more of an effort to dress up and comb his impossible hair that flopped across his forehead in an attempt to impress her. I’d never noticed before, but his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, and it made him all the more adorable.

  “Good morning love-birds,” I teased as I sidled up to my locker. Shawn pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in an attempt to cover up the color staining his cheeks.

  “Hey Q, where’s your other half?” Annabelle returned. The mischievous gleam in her eye did not go unnoticed by me. It was payback for my love-bird comment.

  The title didn’t embarrass me. It was one I was happy to own. “He’s already in his homeroom.” I twisted my combination and began switching out books.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do for your constellation project?” Shawn asked.

  “Yeah, actually,” I said. “I think I’m going to focus on Orion.” The bell rang then, signaling for homeroom.

  “Not a bad choice,” Shawn said. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.” I waved and walked ahead of them, giving them a moment of alone-time since Shawn was still so shy about PDA in the school hallways. Once settled in homeroom, I pulled out one of my notebooks and flipped it open to a fresh, blank page and wrote: Winter, a lunar goddess with an affinity for animals. Keep your eyes on the stars and trust your instincts. Let Orion show you the way. There must be a balance between Light and Dark, for you cannot have one without the other.

  The second bell rang, dismissing us for our first period classes. I gathered my things and met Annabelle in the doorway as we headed for our English class. “Okay, what gives?” She bumped my shoulder with hers.

  “I’ll explain everything at lunch. I’m assembling a meeting of sorts.”

  “You mean with the Trin–”

  “–Don’t say that word,” I said in a rush. “It’s not safe, but, yes.”

  “Sorry, I guess we need like a codename or something.” She entered the English room in front of me, spinning on her heel to face me as she walked backward down the aisle. “Like The Justice League!” she shouted.

  A small bubble of laughter escaped me. “I think that’s already been taken.”

  “Oh, come on, it’s kinda’ perfect.”

  I sank down into my usual seat beside her. Wren entered a beat later and sat his books down on his desk before leaning down to give me a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Oh, barf! Get a room,” Annabelle feigned gagging.

  I couldn’t help sneaking a glance to the seat in front of Annabelle where Courtney, Silver Mountain’s cheer captain, shot me a look that was anything but cheerful. She’d been obsessing over Wren since the day he arrived in Silver Mountain. He’d chosen me instead of her, and the girl was holding a mean grudge against me–like what could I possibly have that she didn’t?

  “Interesting necklace Quinn,” Courtney commented. “Did you get that from your great granny?” She’d said it innocently enough in that sweet, candy-coated voice of hers but I knew she hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

  “Haven’t you heard, Courtney? Vintage is the new black,” Annabelle retorted.

  “Whatever.” Courtney rolled her eyes and turned away.

  I reached up, clutching the moonstone in an innate protective grip. For a minute, I felt that strange inky pull of Darkness like I had this morning. The weight registered around my neck as though that brief moment of anger triggered the stone’s awakening. It was gone now, departing just as fast as it had arrived.

  Miss Lane strode into the classroom and began talking about our next assignment. “Can anyone tell me who Prometheus is?” she asked, folding her hands together as she stood in front of her desk. Her eyes scanned the room until a smile lit up her face. “Yes Harper?”

  “He’s one of the mythological Greek Titan gods,” Harper answered.

  “That he is, but do you happen to know what he’s most credited for?” The room was silent. Miss Lane waited a beat before continuing, “Prometheus was the god of fire and forethought and was said to have a very scientific oriented mind. Because of this, Zeus tasked Prometheus to create the mortal race of humans by molding them from clay. Prometheus was successful in his creation but he wasn’t satisfied with the simplicity of human life. Though humans were made to worship the gods, Prometheus wanted to see mankind thrive. He took it upon himself to steal sacred fire from the heavens and gifted it to humankind. Angered by Prometheus’ rebellious actions, Zeus decided to punish him for all eternity.

  “As we recently learned from Frankenstein, intervening with mankind can also result in tragedy–in fact–Mary Shelley chose The Modern Prometheus as a subtitle for her novel. Which brings me to my next question–does anyone know why Shelley chose this particular subtitle?”

  In front of me, Wren raised his hand. Miss Lane nodded, giving him permission to speak. “Shelley is comparing Frankenstein to Prometheus.”

  Miss Lane nodded again. “Can you guess why?”

  “Prometheus provided mankind with a tool that freed them from their dependence upon the gods,” Wren answered thoughtfully. “When Frankenstein created his monster, he was taking immortality into his own hands and taking away God’s will.”

  “That is absolutely correct,” she praised Wren. “Now, we know that Frankenstein felt disgusted with himself immediately after the monster’s awakening, and his feelings embody the eternal torture that Prometheus had to face. But the two are vastly different beings. Prometheus cared a great deal for mankind and chose to stand by them even though it angered the gods. It’s unfortunate that we cannot say the same of Frankenstein.

  “Prometheus was punished by being chained to a rock in which an eagle visited every day and ate from his liver. Since Prometheus was immortal, his wounds healed and he endured the repetitive suffering. In some versions of the story, it is said that Hercules came and killed the eagle and set Prometheus free, but Zeus was still angered and wanted mankind to suffer as well–thus, he created the maiden Pandora.”

  Miss Lane paced across the front of the room, pausing by the window as the morning sunlight caught the strands of her honey-colored hair. “Pandora was fashioned to life from the earth and blessed with attributes from the goddesses. Though warned by Prometheus, his brother, Epimetheus, accepted Pandora as a gift from Zeus. Upon their wedding, Zeus gave Pandora a jar in which she was told never to open but her mind became consumed with curiosity–”

  “–I thought Pandora had a box?” someone asked.

  “Modern mistranslation I’m afraid,” Miss Lane explained. “The original text says that it was in fact a pithos, which means it was a storage jar. Eventually, Pandora gave in to her restless thoughts and lifted the lid from the jar, releasing the things that Prometheus had wanted to protect humankind from ever enduring–things that consisted of diseases and misery and evil. Horrified by what she’d done, Pandora slammed the lid back on the jar but it was too late–for all the contents, save for one small thing had been released.

  “Does anyone know what that last content was?” Miss Lane asked.

  “Hope,” I blurted.

  Miss Lane’s eyes flashed to mine, and though I knew she wasn’t pleased with my outburst, I could tell she was satisfied that I’d known the answer. “That’s right, Miss Callaghan. Pandora lifted the lid once more and let hope out of the jar. Even though hell had been unleashed on earth, hope healed the wounds that evil had created. Even in the darkest of times, hope has always remained one of humanity’s greatest strengths.”

  Chapter Twelve

&n
bsp; Chaos Personified

  Annabelle and I took our lunches to the courtyard and sat at a picnic table beneath the branches of a maple tree. The autumn canopy above was a sunburst of threaded vermilion and marigold color. A dozen or so students milled around the courtyard but they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be eavesdropping on our conversation. I double-checked the perimeter, making sure Hailey was nowhere to be seen before I launched into the tale of what happened this morning.

  When I finished, I pulled out the grimoire and passed it to Annabelle so she could have her turn reading my mother’s letter. I watched as tears pooled in her eyes as she came to the end of the page. “Wow,” she breathed, “this is really from your mom.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it.

  “It’s incredible, right?”

  “That’s one word for it.” She smiled and glanced up at me. “How are you processing all this?” She gestured to the book.

  “Well, I ugly-cried for what felt like a million years before I was able to pull myself together.” I laughed. “I’m just glad no one was there to witness it.”

  “Wow,” she repeated breathlessly.

  We sat there a moment, absorbing the comfort in the silence. I’d been so afraid to open that door and my apprehension had been for nothing. My last memories of my mother weren’t corrupted; if anything, they were stronger now–more tangible. This grimoire was her way of holding on and giving me something to cling to. The book was my version of Pandora’s jar; all that remained was hope.

  “The others should be here soon, and then we can dig into these clues,” I said, tapping the page of notes I’d scrawled in homeroom.

  “What class does Wren have this period?”

  “AP physics, I think,” I said.

  Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “He’s like, ridiculously smart, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah but he won’t brag about it because he doesn’t like the attention.”

  Annabelle snorted. “I mean, he is aware that he’s a walking billboard for attention–what with all his godlike appearances, right?”

  “I know he’s aware,” I said. “I’m probably going to be chasing girls away from him with a broomstick for the rest of my life.”

  “Or energy-balls.”

  Already been there this morning, I thought–though his mother was an entirely different story. The side door of the school building opened up, and Wren slipped out into the noonday sun. He lifted his face to the wind, sampling the scents tangling in the breeze as he made his way to our picnic table. He slid in next to Annabelle, grabbed an apple from her lunch bag and bit into it before she could stop him.

  “Hey, keep your paws off the edibles, Wolf Boy!” She swatted his bicep and made a reach for her fruit. “I’ll stab you with my silver spoon.”

  Wren laughed, handing over the stolen goods.

  “Well I don’t want it now that you’ve poisoned it with your germs.” She made a show of crossing her arms over her chest and shuddering from head to toe.

  “Such a feisty little kitty,” he teased her.

  Penny’s truck caught my peripheral as Blaire pulled into the senior lot. My mood soured when I spotted a familiar copper mane of tight curls and the head it was attached to climbing down from the passenger seat. I groaned, slinking down on the bench.

  “The cavalry has arrived,” Blaire called cheerfully, waving as she approached us.

  “Could have done without the Wicked Witch of the West,” I said under my breath. I straightened in my seat and held my shoulders back as the sister witches joined us. Blaire plopped down beside me, tucking a leg beneath her as Bryna sat on Annabelle’s free side.

  Annabelle mouthed the word ‘help’ from across the table, and I pinched my lips together to keep from smiling. Bryna was the first to speak. “Blaire tells me you’ve found a grimoire your mother left behind.”

  “I did indeed.” I slid the grimoire towards the center of the table and reiterated the dream the enchantress sent me while the two of them took turns reading my mother’s letter. When I finished my tale, Bryna’s brows puckered in such a tight frown I thought her brain might explode and leak out of her ears.

  “You should’ve informed us the moment you found it,” Bryna chastised.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Leave the girl alone,” Blaire said to her sister. “She deserved a moment alone with her thoughts after having read that letter.”

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the grimoire and handing it to Blaire. “Can you detect what kind of spell she used to keep the rest of the pages locked?”

  Blaire waved her hand over the cover of the grimoire in a slow semicircular motion. “It’s a bit difficult to identify the source of the magics. It’s very old. I’d say we could try a tracing spell, but I have an odd sort of feeling what happened to the amulet would happen to the book.”

  “I hate to agree,” Bryna admitted, pursing her lips.

  “I started decoding some of the clues she left behind,” I said, handing her the notebook. Bryna leaned across the table to get a better view as Blaire read what I had written.

  “Keep your eyes on the stars and let Orion show you the way,” Blaire repeated, running her finger along my scrawled handwriting. She looked up. “Where is the Orion constellation located in the night sky?”

  “Well, for people who live in the Northern Hemisphere, the Orion constellation is located in the south-western sky during late autumn and all of winter,” I explained. “If we take my vision into consideration, we know the enchantress wants us to go somewhere on the East Coast.”

  “So how the hell would Orion show you the way?” Annabelle frowned.

  “That’s what I don’t know. Anyone else have an idea they’d like to pitch?” I waited for my friends to take a guess but no one seemed to know what that part of the riddle could mean. Blaire slid the grimoire to the space in front of her, running her fingers along the metal symbol on the cover.

  “This seems to be cryptic depiction on the triple moon symbol. Traditionally, the trinity knot shouldn’t be here, but I’m guessing it was made specifically for us.”

  “What’s the triple moon symbol?” Annabelle asked.

  “It’s a goddess symbol, representing three phases of the moon.” Blaire pointed to the outward facing crescent on the left and worked her way to the right as she said, “Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Some consider the symbol to represent a life cycle.”

  “The phase of a new moon symbolizes a new beginning. Combine that with the power of the eclipse and it represents rebirth,” Bryna said. “The grimoire’s symbol could have something to do with the eclipse itself.”

  Blaire waved her hand over the cover once more and said, “Nochtann.” She opened the cover, flipping through the pages. Still empty. “I’ve no idea.” She shook her head, sliding the grimoire to me. “Perhaps Bryna and I should phone the Coven and ask if some of the Wiccan elders know about the symbol. I suspect it has something to do with the grimoire’s hidden contents.”

  “This is a good start, Quinn,” Bryna said.

  I almost fell off the bench with the small amount of praise she’d given me.

  “Winter Fengári,” Blaire repeated the name and glanced up at her sister. “Where have I heard that before?”

  “It’s the Greek word for ‘moon’ I believe,” Bryna answered.

  “Winter Moon,” I said aloud, chewing my inner lip. “Maybe it’s another code name for somethi–”

  “–Keep your voice down,” Wren cut me off. He’d lifted his chin in the air, smelling something in the wind that the rest of us couldn’t detect.

  “What is it?�
�� I asked.

  Courtney and Hailey pushed through the double-doors at the front of the courtyard, their arms linked together at the elbows. It was right about then that I heard a deep rumbling coming from around the bend. I looked up at the road as a group of bikers, clad in black leather jackets, slowed in front of the courtyard. Hailey lifted her manicured hand in a wave, pulling Courtney along as they hurried across the lawn to the parking lot. Beside me, Wren stiffened.

  “Weres,” Blaire said, rubbing the goosebumps that trailed her arms. I noticed that her ring was glowing aqua.

  “Thornwood,” I corrected. My stomach tightened as the group of five parked their bikes in the side lot. I picked Roy out of the bunch first. He was the only one with long hair; the wind had pulled a few strands loose from the ponytail fastened at the nape of his neck. I recognized a few of the others from the bar, but they’d remained in the shadows and hadn’t introduced themselves.

  “Friends of yours?” Blaire asked acerbically.

  “I wouldn’t call them friends. Pack your things away.” He meant the grimoire; I didn’t have to be told twice. I grabbed the notebook and the grimoire and stuffed them in my bag as the bikers, led by Hailey and Courtney, started making their way in our direction.

  The back of their jackets were adorned with a large face of a wolf. Its jaws were parted in a menacing snarl, revealing sharp white teeth. Bloody roses covered in thorns formed the shape of parentheses on either side of the wolf’s head. Thornwood was written in bold letters across the back of their shoulders, and below the wolf’s head was the phrase: honor thy brothers with blood. I swallowed hard.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Wren Whelan,” the leader of their group said. He was shorter than the others but he was built like a tank. Bulky muscle jutted up from his shoulders, joining either side of his equally thick neck. He had short, spiky blond hair and eyes the mirror image of Hailey’s. He smiled and offered his hand to Wren.

  “Maddox,” Wren said in greeting, shaking his hand. I remembered what Wren had told me about him–he was in Ryker’s inner circle, and possibly the pack Beta. Hailey was his younger sister. “What brings you out this way?” Wren’s tone was even and borderline unfriendly but Maddox didn’t appear addled in the slightest.