Chapter 14
Marta
Maybe I should have felt some regret for grinding on Atlas one day and letting Wes go down on me the next. But I refused to be slut-shamed by any of it. Like I’d told them, I couldn’t control it, and the longer we were stuck here, the more I worried I wouldn’t want to.
I spent the day of the ritual preparing myself and debating what to do about Wes and Atlas. Tonight would change a lot of things, even if it was just a blood binding. We weren’t joining flesh, not yet anyway, but it could create something chaotic and untenable between us.
Constance hadn’t been specific about the details.
I tried to block that out. Who the hell knew whether Constance was in her right mind or not?
The ritual was sound, as far as blood rituals went.
I didn’t have a coven to do another summoning, and I didn’t have a high priestess to bind us with limited fallout.
We’d have to improvise and pray for the best.
I created the protection oil and made sure the Colts understood how to use it in their baths. I mixed up a concoction of road-opening oil, containing vervain, five-finger grass, and lemon balm. While it was brewing, I dropped an old key into the oil and stirred it while chanting my intentions.
“A bond is blocked; let it be opened. Our magic is closed; let it be cleared. Our way home is unclear; let it be known.” I repeated my mantra nine times while stirring, channeling my magic down my arms, into my hands and fingers, visualizing the power of my ancestors as I did.
Then, I prepped the candles. I bathed them in the road-opening oil and rolled them in herbs to hasten the spell, things like camphor and cinnamon for luck, roses for extra protection, and lavender for peace.
I added a little extra coffee to speed up the process.
The sooner we got out of here, the better.
In the human realm, it was the middle of October, and a thought occurred to me while I tracked the dates.
November 1st was Día de Muertos. The day of the dead.
The time when the veil between the realms would be the thinnest. Tita and I would spend the day making sweet bread and decorating our ancestor altar, preparing ofrendas as we remembered our beloved deceased.
The thought of her made my vision blur, sending tears down my cheeks.
Would she carve out a spot for me on that altar this year?
Would she think I was as lost to her as my father?
Or maybe…maybe we could use that to our advantage. If we could complete the rituals, restore the bond, and gather enough energy, perhaps we could push from this side while my sisters pulled from the human realm, and we’d scoot through.
That would require contacting them to let them know.
I’d been scrying every night since we arrived but hadn’t had any luck.
Maybe I was that much of a masochist that I tried again with similar results.
Either they couldn’t hear me on the other side, or I still wasn’t strong enough to break through.
I glanced down at my hands, tingling with the fury of my magic.
It’s there. I know it’s there.
I’d been performing mirror scrying since I was a little girl. I’d perfected it eons ago.
Why isn’t it working?
It must have had something to do with the centuries-old blood wards in the estate walls.
Nothing in. Nothing out. If I were going to get a hold of anyone from the other side, maybe I would have to go someplace sacred to me.
Perhaps I had to go to Tita’s house. It might still be too risky to go outside, but if it worked, it would be worth it.
Refusing to give up hope, I let it go for the night and told myself I’d pick that thread tomorrow.
At nine o’clock, I ran myself a bath with three drops of cleansing oil, rue, rose petals, and salt.
As I sat in the water, I enchanted it with my intention — ward away bad energies, cleanse my body for optimal ritual magic, and protect me (and my warriors) from ill harm.
Closing my eyes, I grounded myself in my sacred space.
I went back to my spiritual woods and listened to the birds chirping in the trees.
I called to my ancestors and asked them for their blessing, and when the wind picked up, blowing my hair around my face, I smiled as the sensation of gratitude washed over me.
“The time has come when you must fight. You must channel your anger into faith, and faith into action.”
The words echoed in my mind, the sound of the woman’s gentle voice calming what little hesitation I had left.
I’d just been about to thank her again for her guidance when dark clouds blocked the sun, obsidian wisps wrapping around me.
“Filthy mortal,” came the deep growl. “You cannot escape me. You cannot escape this place.”
Panic seized my chest, gripping my heart in a vise, and I spun around, searching for the source of the voice. Bright crimson eyes glowed in front of me, razor-sharp teeth extending from behind a bloody grin.
Gasping, I opened my eyes and sat up, splashing water over the side of the tub.
There was nothing here. No one in my bathroom except for me.
“Fucking hell.” I ran my hands over my face and back through my hair, taking deep, calming breaths to slow my racing heart.
It’s not real. It’s a bad memory. Just a bad memory. That’s all.
Once the water had gone cold, I stepped out of the bath and let the droplets run down my body. Air drying allowed the magic to sink into the skin. I dressed in my white floor-length dress, braided my hair, and anointed my amulet with protection oil.
After gathering all of the supplies, I went downstairs to join the guys. They were dressed in white linen pants, their chests bare and hair brushed back as I requested. Wes wore a pentagram around his neck, attached with a long rope. Atlas wore his around his wrist on a brown leather bracelet.
“Here, let me,” I said, walking toward them so I could rub protection oil over their charms, just in case. “Ancestors of the order, I pray to you now. Please protect us in our work. Saint Marta, slayer of dragons, ancestor of my own namesake. Watch over us. Guide us.”
A shiver ran down my spine in answer, and I took that to mean she had our back, at least for this.
“Well?” Atlas asked, nodding toward the bag in my hand. “Are we ready?”
I nodded and glanced at Wes, who smiled in that gentle, reaffirming way of his, filling my chest with a confidence I only slightly felt.
“Let’s go.” I turned and led the way out of the house, around the gardens, and toward the tree line where I’d initially been bonded to them.
I’d come out here every morning since we’d been stuck in the liminal, but it never felt quite as powerful as it did then.
The crescent moon shone overhead, illuminating the trail with an ethereal radiance that made the world more effervescent.
Frogs and crickets sounded in the distance, providing a chorus for our meditative walk, and when we got to the clearing, I sighed at the pulse of energy surrounding me.
This place was old, even older than my coven, and the wind bustling through the trees whispered ancient secrets that only a select few would ever be privy to.
Atlas set the wireless speaker down on a log while I grabbed the holy water to bless the space.
Wes lined the candles up in a wide circle around the edge, in almost the same spots they’d been when we were bonded.
I chanted prayers and offerings of peace to the land spirits, expelling any negative energy from the space so we could do our work in peace and harmony with nature.
Even if this was a questionable spell. Even if this was chaos magic in its rawest form.
“You’re sure this is the right playlist?” Atlas said, glancing down at my phone.
“The one that’s called Ritual One,” I answered, completing the cleanse before going back to my bag for the dried herb bundle.
“This has AC/DC and Led Zeppelin on it,” he said.
“Music is important,” I said. “It heightens the energy and welcomes the spirits to join us.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Whatever you say, little witch.”
“Here,” I said, pointing to the fire pit as a primal instrumental song played in the background. “Stack the logs up. I’ll start the fire.”
Atlas did as I asked, and I picked up a candle, lighting it while I walked the circle to cast a ward around our magic. “Candle and flame, light the way. Keep our magic safe, we pray.”
The moment I completed the circle, the world around us went quieter.
The night faded into the background, leaving only my warriors and me and the anticipation of what was to come.
Atlas had set up the fire pit, so I used my magic to light it, casting a spell that would keep it from burning out while our energy still permeated.
Firelight flickered across Atlas’s features, making him seem more fearsome and demanding.
Wes walked to join us on the other side, his body powerful in the nighttime glow.
“Remember what I said,” I told them as I set up our altar on a log between us. “We’re safe inside the circle. Just…open yourself up to the magic. Let it flow through you. No matter what happens.”
Atlas nodded as I placed our offerings on the wooden stump. I’d brought dried roses and a card depicting Saint Marta. I set up red and white candles in the center of a circle made of cinnamon and carnelian. Finally, in the middle, I put the ceremonial knife.
Even though this ritual would entail us exchanging blood, we would also be carving a symbol into each other’s chests, right over the heart.
The wounds would be deep, but I’d brought satchels full of healing herbs.
I just prayed I had enough magic left over at the end to close them up so they didn’t get infected.
Wes glanced at both of us before handing me the book, which I placed next to the chalice, open to the correct page. I licked my lips and swallowed the little bit of anxiety creeping up my throat.