Chapter 11 #2
“Not here or in the land of the Fae, and while the goddesses restrict me to the holy ground of Seven Cairns in yer century, they ignore if I travel to the Otherworld. The gods and goddesses despise the Fae.”
“Why?”
“Because the Fae are nearly as powerful as they are.” He pointed at the beam of sunlight cutting across the table with the scrying bowl. “As soon as it touches the water, we start.”
“Good, because the mathematics of your age, my timeline, and the land of the fairies is giving me a headache.” She moved to stand beside him. “Will we know right away if Mairwen hears us?”
“Aye. If she heeds the blood call, we will know.” He picked up the athame and rolled its haft in his hand, warming it with his magic.
It had been a long while since he’d done any spellcasting.
His wolf was still with Calia’s pale alpha in the in-between.
A shame, it was. Dubh always enjoyed a good blood call.
Calia drew closer, frowning at the dagger as she slipped her arm through his. “What do you mean by blood call? You’re not going to hurt yourself, are you?”
“’Tis but a little blood added to the moon-blessed water. Dinna fash yerself, lass. It will be all right.” Her worry for him warmed his heart.
“I just don’t want you hurt.” She hugged his arm, clinging to him.
It had been a long while since anyone had worried about him—maybe even forever.
His kin had always thought it a weakness or ill-fated to speak of concern for another.
He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his.
“’Twill only be a mere scratch, mo chridhe.
I swear.” Then he treated himself to a taste of her sweet lips, groaning when he forced himself to break the kiss. “I will never get enough of ye.”
Her eyes shimmered with smoldering passion. “Good.”
The beam of sunlight hit the water, setting it aglow and shooting a column of blinding light upward.
Mathison sliced the deadly blade of the athame across his left palm, then fisted his hand over the bowl, centering it in the shaft of light and allowing his blood to drip into the water in gleaming crimson droplets.
“Mairwen,” he said in a deep rumbling growl, “come forth, Master Weaver. Heed the blood call and the power of the moon.”
The golden glow of the water’s surface became even brighter, then faded and brightened again, as if taking on a heartbeat from the blood swirling within it.
He sharpened his focus, allowing the energy of the ancients and the magic of the wolf clan to flow through him and drip into the bowl along with his blood. “Mairwen, heed my call.”
Still at his side, Calia edged closer until she nudged against him. He welcomed her warmth and support. It fed into him, giving him an even stronger surge of power.
“Mairwen!” he roared, fed up with being ignored.
“There is no need to shout, grand chieftain.” Mairwen’s voice echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room as she shimmered into view inside the beam of sunlight streaming in the windows. The silvery-haired matron smiled and nodded at both of them. “Congratulations on embracing yer bond.”
“Why did you lie to me?” Calia asked before Mathison could speak. “Everything you and Keeva said and did was deceitful. Meant to trick me into being torn away from everything I’ve ever known.”
“Would ye have believed me had I told ye of all this? Of the shifters?” Mairwen arched a silvery brow higher.
“I now see ye are a shifter yerself. How did we miss that? I shall have a word with Keeva and Bedelia. Such an oversight is unacceptable.” She calmly folded her hands in front of her narrow waist and tipped her chin higher.
“Well, what say ye, Calia? Would ye have believed me had I told ye of the Ninth Realm rather than sent ye here?”
“Probably not,” Calia admitted. “But that still doesn’t excuse the deception.”
“The Highland Veil hungered for the energy of yer bond with Chieftain Shadowmist. Shifter fated mates offer a particularly powerful healing to the blessed tapestry. I apologize for the deception, but the needs of all of existence far outweighed the needs of the one.” Mairwen turned her focus to Mathison.
“Teach her the lore, grand chieftain, and dinna be slow about doing it. Her survival could verra well depend on it.”
“Her wolf is the pale alpha.” Mathison drew a great deal of satisfaction from Mairwen’s obvious surprise, even though it was subtle. The Divine Weaver rarely showed emotion. “And my wolf and I will protect them both—should they need it.”
“They will need it.” Mairwen’s image faded somewhat as a cloud skittered in front of the sun and temporarily cast the tower in shadow.
“The witch Bansys is not only determined to rule the Ninth Realm, with or without the aid of yer sons, but she is also in league with Carman the evil one and her vile spawn. They mean to rend the Veil to pieces so all may pass through the realms and layers of time without regard to the goddesses’ commands or help from the Weavers or Defenders. ”
“If Mathison and I passed through the Veil with no issue, and also without destroying it, why can’t anyone do that?” Calia pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and wrapped it around Mathison’s hand to bind his wound.
“Because I sent ye,” Mairwen said, then tipped a nod at Mathison.
“And he is a Defender sworn to protect the Highland Veil. It knows he means it no harm, either to it or any of the realms it separates. Only a Weaver or a Defender chieftain may open the portals, and only then for the betterment of the Veil or because of special permissions granted to some of the fated mates by the goddesses—and those special permissions only allow access to the specific Seven Cairns that the fated mates wish to visit.”
“Like Mathison only being allowed to visit the holy ground of Seven Cairns in my century?” Calia asked.
“Exactly.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia said, reminding Mathison of a bairn demanding a favorite toy.
Mairwen frowned. “’Tis unwise to carry material things from one century to another century and a different realm.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia said more slowly, inflecting the words with anger. It no longer sounded like a request but more of an ultimatum.
Adopting the sternness of a tutor dealing with an unruly child, Mairwen settled a hard look on Calia. “Where is yer amulet? The one I advised ye to wear at all times?”
“It’s wherever you sent my bedroom after you made it disappear from here.”
Mairwen pursed her lips, obviously displeased. “Then ye will have to come to Seven Cairns and fetch it. Ye need that amulet for yer protection until the curse is fully broken, and Chieftain Shadowmist is restored to power.”
“Until the curse is fully broken?” Mathison asked, not entirely pleased with what the Divine Weaver insinuated. “Either it is broken, or it is not, aye?”
“No.” Mairwen’s image dimmed again as another cloud passed between the tower and the sun.
“Bansys senses her spell upon ye weakens with each passing day. She will take whatever action necessary to maintain control. Dinna underestimate her. She has had centuries to perfect this, and as I said before, the immortal Carman is aiding her.”
“’Twill be a dangerous thing to take Calia to Seven Cairns. Could ye not spirit the amulet to her?” It was several days’ ride to the Weavers’ village, a journey fraught with danger.”
“I want my stuff,” Calia repeated, her eyes filling with tears. She held up a finger. “There is one thing I must have. One thing. And I will do anything to get it.”
Mathison took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “What is it? What is this thing that haunts ye?”
Her lower lip trembled, and the look in her eyes begged him to understand.
“I can live without the clothes I told you about, but I have to have Gillian’s baby book.
All her pictures are in it. Minutes after she was born.
Birthday parties. Holidays. Touchable memories of…
everything. It’s all I have left of my baby.
” She bowed her head and turned away, pulling free of his grasp.
Now he finally understood. He turned to Mairwen. “We shall come to Seven Cairns for the amulet and Gillian’s baby book, ye ken? We will not take the one without the other.”
“The amulet is for her protection,” Mairwen snapped, reading his unspoken threat as clearly as he’d meant it.
“And?” He waited, knowing the old one never fully revealed her hand unless pressed. “What are ye trying not to say, Mairwen?”
The Divine Weaver glared at him. “The wolfstone possesses the power to strip the immortality and magic from Carman, the despicable witch who killed my son, and the one aiding Bansys with her evil. She will lose her magic permanently and become mortal, as will her sons.” Mairwen glared at him, defiance and the rage of a mother wronged flashing in her eyes.
“I will have my revenge, and the realities and the Veil will be the better for it.”
“How will it do that?” Calia asked.
“It will focus yer untapped powers. Afore we knew ye to be a shifter, it would have enabled ye to hear other shifters speak whilst they are in their animal form. But ye’ll not need that help now.
Especially not with the pale alpha.” Mairwen’s image turned mistier, her features becoming slightly out of focus.
“I must go. Come to Seven Cairns, and I shall see that ye receive what ye have requested. Ye have my word.”
As much as he didn’t wish to expose Calia to such a risk, Mathison had no choice. He couldn’t deny her the cherished token from her daughter’s life. “We will be there in three days’ time. More if the weather delays us.”
Mairwen nodded at them both. “So let it be done. The Weavers await ye.”
* * *
Calia had mixed feelings about taking Otto along on a trek across the Highlands, but she didn’t feel right about leaving him at Wraith Tower either.