Chapter 31
“Rouse the gods?” I asked, raising my brows.
Elios sighed, shifting on his feet. “I should have alerted them of the imminent danger when Castor brought Calia to me with the dagger. Even if we did not possess the information we do now, Leonora poses a greater threat than any of us realized.”
“Will they fight?” Rowena asked. I hated the hope in her eyes. Even more so when Elios shook his head.
“I cannot say. They do not concern themselves with the lives of mortals, but”—he paused, looking toward his daughter—“I am hoping they see reason. Should I fall and Leonora be granted my power, it would bring about catastrophic consequences.”
Calia reached out and grasped his hand. “I want to go with you,” she said.
I looked away from the two of them, forcing myself to stay grounded. I hated the idea of Calia leaving the manor or being out of sight for even a moment, but I held no sway over her decisions.
No matter how much I wished I did.
“It is not safe, sweet girl,” he said softly. “I do not have full use of my powers in this realm, and you would be much safer here?—”
“I don’t want to sit around and do nothing,” she said, pushing to her feet. “I want to do something, and I want to go with you. There is a whole world I’ve never known about, and if this is the only chance I have to experience it, then I want to take it.”
“Okay,” he acquiesced, tucking the journal under his arm. “We will leave shortly.” Elios glanced at me before stepping away, an apology already forming on his lips, but I shook my head once. Brielle followed him out, muttering something under her breath about not being left behind.
I could not take her desperation to accompany him as a slight toward me, even though I wanted nothing more than to lock her away behind every measure of defense available to me.
Sloane and Rowena followed him out, leaving Calia and I standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the table. For how short the distance was, it might as well have been an ocean. Nothing I could say would stop her; no measure of honesty would be enough to convince her to stay.
The moments shared in her bedroom seemed like years ago, not hours, and whatever progress we had made came to a screeching halt with the discovery of Corvina’s journal.
“Before you say anything,” she began, averting her gaze, “there’s nothing you can?—”
I chuckled, though not entirely full of humor. “I know, which is why I did not object when you first suggested leaving with Elios. You are, of course, free to make whatever decision you see fit.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Just like that?”
“Would you prefer I tell you no?” I asked, stepping around the desk. “That the thought of you walking out that door terrifies me?”
Calia tilted her head, looking up into my eyes. I felt a storm rising beneath my skin, the overwhelming need to lock her away and never let her out of my sight. “Of course not,” she said, crossing her arms. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”
I hummed, reaching out to wrap a thick strand of red hair around my finger. “And what if I could not help myself from doing something stupid?”
“You’re always stupid,” she breathed, swallowing thickly. Her gaze flitted between my eyes and mouth.
“When it comes to you?” I asked, tugging on that curled lock, “Absolutely. However, this is something you need to do, is it not?”
Calia nodded, shifting on her feet without breaking my gaze. “I do.”
“I am not a perfect man, and I will continue to make mistakes out of my desire to protect you—but I will not presume to know better than you. I will not stand in your way, wife,” I admitted, my voice soft but resolute.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a harsh kiss. We came together in a tide of tongues and teeth, stealing the breath from the other’s lungs in a war for dominance.
Her hands dug into my neck as I lifted her from the ground and placed her ass on the table. I stepped in between her legs, forcing our bodies together without breaking contact.
She broke the kiss first, grinding herself into my hardening length with a moan. “Rion, I?—”
“Calia, it is time—” Elios began, abruptly cutting off as he strolled through the door.
She pushed me away, averting her gaze and straightening her clothes. “Right! Coming,” she mumbled, meeting him at the door. She held it open, pausing to look at me. “I’ll see you later.”
“Of course,” I said, failing to hide the disappointment in my voice. “Be safe.”
She nodded once, shifting on her feet, before slipping out. At the sound of the door closing, I brushed my fingers across my lips. The ensuing silence revealed the truth of her kiss, a truth I had desperately been avoiding.
A final goodbye.
“What in thehell is that racket?” I called, bounding down the steps into the foyer, sidearm at the ready. Jasper followed quickly behind me, his own gun drawn and ready as we neared the door.
Calia, Brielle, and Elios left quickly. I trusted Elios to convey the severity of our plight to the gods, though we could not anticipate their response. Castor followed suit, ensuring the Vail was apprised of the danger that would befall Kallistos should any of us fail.
A polite, quiet knock sounded against the massive frame, followed by a guttural, godsawful screeching croak. It was akin to an off-tune ballad sung by a bawdy, drunken crowd. Wholly unpleasant and cringeworthy.
“I’ve heard a horde of rats make more pleasant sounds,” Jasper muttered, sliding to a halt in front of the door.
We braced ourselves, taking a moment of pause before I reached for the handle and swung it open.
“Afternoon, gentleman,” Ballard chirped, walking through the door with a massive, gilded cage in one hand and his briefcase in the other. Rain poured behind him, dripping from his jacket onto the floor. “Weather’s a bit shit, isn’t it?” he asked, setting the items on the ground and shrugging off his jacket. He turned and hung it on the small coat rack, which I was not sure had ever been used.
The cage rattled on the ground, clattering against the hard floor and adding to the miserable noise echoing off the walls. “Let me out, you insufferable bastard!” the voice screeched.
Jasper and I tucked our guns away, staring at the cage as it nearly tipped over, and a wretched curse rang out.
“Uh, Ballard?” Jasper asked, tapping his foot. “What the fuck is that?”
“Ah, you’ve brought my big cuddly boy!” Sloane’s voice cried out, rounding the corner and falling to her knees in front of the cage. She quickly threw off the cover, unveiling the largest raven I had ever seen.
It ruffled its feathers, squawking in—what I would assume—was eager exhilaration as Sloane swung open the door. It hopped out, dancing around and flapping its wings as she swooped it up in her arms and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of its head.
“Were you good for your uncle Ballard?” she cooed, standing and walking back toward her room without a second glance. “I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m sure you were a perfect angel.”
“Uncle Ballard?”
“A fucking raven?”
Jasper and I spoke simultaneously, turning to Ballard in utter confusion. The man sheepishly ran his hands down his chest. “Not by blood, you see. Her father was one of my best friends. He transferred her into my care before he died,” he explained. “And yes, sort of. Poe is her familiar, who just happened to take the form of a raven. Much to my dismay,” he added, muttering under his breath.
“What happened to her father?” I asked, beckoning Ballard toward the dining room where Sloane had begun setting up for the spell earlier. In lieu of the table, a large chalk circle encompassed the area. Smaller areas were marked within—diamonds for three items connected with purposeful lines. Sloane warded the area, marking the walls with protection runes and words drawn from the old language.
“Her mother died when she was but a babe, and her father was never quite the same after. Incurable sickness, they called it, but I think his heart was simply too broken to go on.” He set his briefcase in one of the chairs, hesitating before fiddling with the latch. “Everyone said he was selfish for wanting to be reunited with his wife when he had their little girl to care for, but I never shared that sentiment. I think some wounds are too deep to heal, no matter what good comes our way. It’s difficult to come back from such agony alone.”
It was. By the gods, it was. I could not tell if he had wanted to say his piece on the matter or if, somehow, he knew the words would ring true in my soul. It did not matter either way because I could not have spoken truer words myself.
“And the big bird?” Jasper asked, crossing his arms.
“Don’t,” Ballard gritted out. “You’ll need to sleep with one eye open at night if he hears your insults.”
“I can’t call it a bird?”
Ballard shook his head. “Never. And the same goes for any familiar you might meet, no matter the form. They are exceptionally powerful creatures who make some of our magic look tame. He could burn the flesh from your bones with a single look.”
Jasper turned to me in question, a disbelieving look on his face, but I shrugged. “I have heard stories of a similar nature, although I thought them to be nothing more than conduits to the other side.”
“They are, though it is but a drop of their power,” Ballard said, busying himself by pulling vials and jars from his bag and placing them atop the table. “But a familiar is much more than that. They act as guides for witchlings who are discovering their power for the first time—a friend of sorts. It’s strange to think about, particularly from an outsider’s point of view, but familiars are fiercely loyal to their bond. Nothing in this world could cause it to be broken.”
“Which is why that thing would kill me without a second glance?”
“Precisely,” Ballard said, dusting off his hands. “Now, someone go grab my niece. We have a ritual to begin!”
“I don’t likehow it’s looking at me,” Jasper whispered, narrowing his eyes on the enormous bird perched atop Sloane’s chair. The thing, whose name turned out to be Poe, had studied Jasper and I with careful consideration everywhere we went.
To no one’s surprise, it hummed in Rowena’s presence—positively preening every time she stroked a gentle finger along its puffed-up chest and cooed sweet nothings its way.
Sloane smirked as she stood, stepping back to admire the ritual circle she and Ballard had worked on for the past hour. “Are you scared of Poe, Jasper?”
He scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
Poe spread his wings. “Liar,” he hissed. “I can smell your fear from here.”
Jasper, wisely, said nothing in return.
“How does this work?” I asked, stepping up beside Ballard to examine the area.
A large circle nearly covered the entire floor, laden with dried herbs, various crystals, and shallow dishes of salt, which Sloane said would help keep the spell focused on finding Leonora’s whereabouts. Apparently, magic was easily led astray if not carefully honed, which could lead to us chasing irrelevant, errant energies rather than my mother.
Sloane stepped inside, careful not to disturb any lines, and she placed a large, detailed map of Kallistos and the immediate surrounding area in the center of the circle. The paper was thick and worn, yet the ink was fresh, as though it had just been printed.
“We’ll need two things from you to begin—a few drops of your blood and an item belonging to your mother.” Sloane tapped a smaller circle to the right of the map. “That will go here.”
“What kind of item do you need?” I asked, pulling Calia’s now faded pink hair tie from my wrist and slipping it into my pocket. Try as I might, I still had not been able to remove the blood stains from the band. My constant washing had turned the color from a vibrant, neon color to an odd, splotchy tie-die. Her scent was gone, and my heart ached for it, but I refused to part with it either way. “I have no idea what she may have left behind?—”
“Here,” Rowena interrupted, grabbing an object from the bag beside her. “Sloane mentioned we would need something of Mother’s, and I noticed this when we looked through her rooms the other day.”
Ballard gently took the brush from Rowena and examined it. “Are you sure this belonged to her?” Strands of long, blonde hair were wound sparsely through the bristles. “If it isn’t, the spell may target someone else instead.”
“It’s hers,” Rowena and I said simultaneously.
“It’s her scent,” my sister explained. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Ballard nodded, adding the item to the circle before returning to us. “Sloane or I will slice your palm,” he said, holding my wrist and drawing a line across my hand. “You will hold it above the map as we begin, allowing your blood to flow freely from the source in conjunction with our magic.” His own hand hovered an inch above the map. “Sometimes the spell will allow for an exact location, the magic winding its way along the roads until it reaches its destination, while other times it will simply amass around a general area.”
I studied the map, scouring every inch of the land I knew and loved so much. We could not afford for this to fail. “Is there a way to ensure it does one over the other?”
Sloane shook her head. “No. At best, we should hope for the latter. Given how tricky your mother is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s secured magical protection of her own.”
“And if that’s the case? Will the spell even work?” Jasper asked.
Sloane shrugged her shoulders, the stiff movement exposing her uncertainty. “It’ll be a case of our magic against whatever she has at her disposal. We won’t know until we try.”
It was a risk—a risk that it would not work, a risk that it would expose us, and a risk that it would bring her straight to our door when we were not prepared to tackle that kind of threat.
But such was the hand we had been dealt. No matter what we did, or consequently did not do, we posed a threat to Leonora we could not negate. It was better to be on the side of proactivity rather than sit idle.
“Alright,” I said, rolling my shoulders back. “Let us begin.”