Chapter 15
Cass
Cass ran, chased by the fear that time was slipping away grain by grain.
It piled around her feet as she slogged through the deepening drifts, her chest aching as she tried to suck nonexistent air into her laboring lungs.
The grit tore at her bare feet as the path twisted and turned with a feral sentience.
Sofia called for her from somewhere up ahead, but no matter how fast Cass ran, the distance remained unchanged.
An owl dropped from above with a chilling screech, its vicious talons tearing through the night.
She covered her head with her arms and threw herself to the side to escape, but she was too slow, and fire whipped along her forearms. The owl lifted on a deafening whoosh of backdraft that left behind a choking cloud of something foul and circled for another attack.
“áfise tin!” The ominous echo of her yaya’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
The owl veered off with an angry shriek.
Cass scrambled to her hands and knees. She spun in a panicked circle, trying to see through the distorting haze, only to stop when a shimmery, robed figure appeared at the edge of a monstrous forest. It glided toward her as she stumbled back.
“Yaya? Is that you?” Her voice was younger and scared. She inched away, and something rolled underfoot. She hit the ground with a pained grunt.
In less than a breath, the figure was kneeling at her side. “Prosékhste.”
Pay attention to what? She didn’t get a chance to ask, because the cowled head lifted, and the unforgiving faces of the Erinyes from her tarot deck stared back.
She pointed a bloodied sword to the left.
Cass turned and got her answer. The forest parted to reveal a dark pool where the naiad floated, her sorrowful gaze aimed at the shadowy shore, where silent winds tore through trees, changing the landscape with dizzying speed.
The water around her rippled ominously as though something lurked in the depths below.
A chill touch brushed her face as her yaya’s voice gently ordered, “Go back to the start, angel.”
Cass jerked awake so hard she almost fell out of the chair she’d curled into while sitting at Sofia’s bedside.
Grayson’s jacket, which she’d been using as a blanket, fell to the floor with a muffled thump.
Her gaze went to Sofia, who lay quietly on the bed under a faint glow of copper from the protection spell.
The reassuring rise and fall of her chest nudged some of the panic away, but Cass’s heart beat a mile a minute, and her hands shook.
She scrubbed her face, trying to wipe away the remnants of the disturbing dream as she uncurled her legs from their cramped position in the chair.
She set her bare feet on the floor, the feel of the cool, hard surface grounding her.
She dropped her hands, kept her eyes closed, and stilled her mind as she drew in a couple of deliberate breaths to chase away the shakiness.
Resettled, she opened her eyes and looked around, realizing that evening had set in and the room had drifted into dimness.
Cass turned on the light on the nightstand and let the soft illumination chase away the gathering shadows.
She went to Sofia and brushed her fingers through her hair. She looks so young. Worry, frustration, and anger battered her heart even as the fear that she was watching history repeat itself lurked at the edges of her mind.
She bent, pressed her lips to her sister’s temple, and whispered, “Hang in there, Sofie.”
There was no response.
Cass straightened and pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to bank her useless tears. Come on, Grayson, hurry back.
Logic told her he was doing the best he could, but she hated the fact that she was stuck waiting for him to get back.
She picked up her glasses from the nightstand, set them in place, then turned back to the chair.
Cass picked up Grayson’s suit coat from the floor and gave it a small shake to straighten it out.
Something heavy weighed down one side. Frowning, she folded it over her arm so she could search the pockets.
When she got to the inner pocket, she hit pay dirt and pulled out her grandmother’s letter and gift.
Cass laid the jacket at the foot of Sofia’s bed then carried the letter and box with her as she retook her seat.
She set the box on the chair’s padded arm and turned her attention to the letter.
She brushed a finger over the wax seal, tracing the hourglass symbol, and absently wondered if her mother had inherited the seal set that Yaya kept at her desk.
Then she slid a nail under the edge of the flap, broke the seal, and carefully pulled the letter free of the envelope.
Cass set the envelope aside and unfolded the letter.
Her grandmother’s familiar loops filled the page.
Dearest angel,
This was not how I wanted to have this conversation, but Fate has a way of ensuring that Her plans play out as She prefers, no matter how much we wish differently.
First, I want you to know how much I love you, and how proud I am of the woman you have chosen to be.
I know it has not been an easy road, but then, the easy path has never been your chosen mode of travel, has it?
Cass smiled at the familiar question, one she’d heard often growing up.
You’re much like my stubborn heart, Dorian, in that regard.
Always about forging your own path. Much like him, you love deep and true, but that kind of heart wields a double-edged sword because when betrayed, it has difficulty finding forgiveness.
Especially when that betrayal comes from those closest to you.
This is a trait that runs true in our family, especially in my darling Rhea, and whether you believe it or not, your mother loves you.
(Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady.)
A watery huff of amusement escaped Cass, and she brushed away a tear.
She may show it in ways even I have trouble understanding, but there are reasons behind her choices.
And as I’ve taught you, others’ choices are not yours to make, or mine, no matter how tempting.
I had hoped to help guide you two back onto common ground, but it seems I’ve run out of time, so now I need to ask you to do something I know you’d rather not do—forgive her.
“That’s a hell of an ask, Yaya,” Cass said even as her chest ached.
I know it’s a lot to ask, but angel, you’re strong enough to do this.
When your heart is ready, take my gift and watch, listen, and try to give your mother some grace as her roads have had their own challenges.
Remember that each of us must walk our own path, no matter where it takes us, and when we reach the end, only we can say if the journey was worth it.
Be brave, Cassandra.
I love you.
Yaya
She refolded the letter, tucked it back into the envelope, and then picked up the small box. She tried and failed to open it. Upon closer inspection, she realized there was no seam between the top and bottom. In fact, the hinge appeared to be decorative instead of functional.
“That’s not right,” she muttered, absently retracing the crest. She remembered this box sitting open on Yaya’s dresser, the antique pocket mirror nestled inside.
She ran her finger along the curling loops etched into the wood, remembering her grandmother doing the same on more than one occasion.
Iris would hold the box while tracing the crest, her gaze unfocused, and then, without anything obvious, the lid would release.
Which meant there had to be some way to open this thing.
“What am I missing?”
She reread Yaya’s letter and did her best to recall what Swanson had said at the reading. She remembered Grayson’s frown as he stared at the letter and box and his warning headshake. Grayson, who was a Key.
Realization clicked. “Magical lock.”
An heirloom from a family of seers in a seemingly inoperable box. Like a miniature Pandora’s box maybe?
Intrigued, Cass turned it over and over in her mind.
Pandora’s story was typical of the misogynistic mythos that stretched back thousands of years.
A beautiful woman created to punish men by narcissistic man-gods got curious and unleashed a plague of evil on the mortal realm.
When an angry Zeus slammed the lid closed, Hope, who also happened to be female, was trapped inside, unable to help mortal men, and somehow that was also Pandora’s fault.
Never mind how all that shit got into the box in the first damn place. Cass stepped back from that particular rabbit’s hole and considered the curiosity angle. Could that be the key?
No, not curiosity, but something else, something just as strong.
“‘What lies behind paves the way forward,’” she said, repeating Yaya’s words as shared by Swanson, then looked at the letter with Yaya’s last message as she continued to slowly trace the crest.
Forgive her.
Curiosity.
Each of us must walk our own path.
Pieces shifted, and knowledge sparked, born of magic and instinct.
Forgiveness required understanding, and Cass had never understood her mother, never wanted to know.
But with everything unraveling and Sofia at risk, it was time to find out.
The lines under her fingertip began to glow, following the path of her touch.
It deepened into indigo, and as she finished with the last swirl, a soft click sounded and the wooden top shifted.
Cass gingerly raised the lid. Delicate silver filigree twisted to appear like thread wrapped around the slightly domed lid in a never-ending spiral.
An owl, wings open, sat underneath the three phases of the moon.
The two faceted moonstones that were its eyes appeared to glow with an inner fire.