CHAPTER 59
Caster rubbed at his tired eyes. The sixth day of his vigilance was beginning to take its toll on even his considerable vampire strength.
But he refused to move, refused to succumb to the rest, calling on every cell of his body.
Riley had assured him that unless Mark unlocked the door to the Underworld or tore at the fabric of the Veil as he had before, Ethel could not find a way back.
But why had she seemed so happy to embrace death?
Had it just been the satisfaction of denying him an outlet for his fury?
But like every time his worry that they were not free of her yet reared its threat, Caster shook his head.
There would be time to worry about that witch later.
Now, he refocused his attention on what mattered.
Mark’s beating heart had increased in strength, its rhythm a salve on the pain he’d lived through the last few days.
The last of his fury was gone, and even if he had the energy to summon it again, the remaining contingent of Uncle Lucien’s army was hiding very well.
Was he working with another witch? Adella and Edie had left to meet with the Grand Coven to find out just how many witches had chosen Ethel over the Grand Priestess.
The rebellion in the Coven’s ranks had been clear the moment Ethel and a considerable number of Water Witches attacked them.
He reached for Mark’s hand, the warmth seeping through their connection a comfort that still failed to reach the pain burdening him.
“Please wake up, baby. I need you. We all need you.”
He glanced at Mark’s immobile form. The large gash across his chest had long healed, and he’d gained some color, but that healing had come much slower, like his wolf was gone again.
He squeezed the hand in his and looked up, calling up every ounce of his will to keep his tears from falling. Why would the Goddess give him the perfect mate, make him love him beyond reason, only to take him away?
If only there was something he could do.
But Riley had assured him that everything that could be done was complete.
It was up to Mark to return to them. Caster reminded himself that Mark had no concept of time where he was.
Six days for him may be no more than a few minutes for Mark.
Still, his name echoed in his mind, hoping he could reach into wherever he was and drag him out.
Footsteps alerted him to the other person who had spent every waking moment with him on this vigil. His mother’s presence, the anguish she did her best to hide for his benefit only tore away another piece of his heart.
As she did every day, she remained silent, taking her seat on the other side of the bed and taking Mark’s other hand.
It didn’t take long for Caster to see the extra determination she carried today.
He dared to look at her, started to shake his head to warn her against filling the silence with words, but in her presence, it was sometimes impossible to overcome the child in him, the child who would always need her comfort.
“He was so brave the last time.”
Caster looked away from the limp hand in his grip, certain he would have been able to make sense of her words if he wasn’t so tired.
“When you were stuck in that void with that demon, he wouldn’t leave you.” She said, a smile hidden in the darkness of her mood.
Caster had tried to bury the memories of his time in that darkness. “Why, Mother?”
His mother frowned, and he took a breath, rearranging his words to make sense. “Why are we being tested so? Why would the Goddess give him to me, make me love him and then rip him away?”
“He’s still here. He will come back to you.”
Caster shook his head to deny her words and the hope they promised, certain that he would wait an eternity for Mark if he got to see him smile just one more time, but equally as certain that he didn’t have the strength to hold on.
“What do you know of those swords Pierce and Riley used to rescue him?”
He shook his head, seeing this for the distraction it was, but welcoming it nonetheless. “Father and Uncle Lucien won’t talk about them.”
She patted Mark’s hand with an extra dose of care and then settled further into her chair.
“I’ve heard the story numerous times, but your grandfather made us promise not to repeat it. To this day I don’t know why; it is one of the most wonderful things to have happened.”
She smiled at him, indicating his chair.
“You can relax, honey. There are no threats here.”
Until she’d said it, he hadn’t realized how alert every muscle was. He sighed and followed her lead, leaning into the chair, but he refused to release his hold on Mark.
“Your grandparents had real difficulty conceiving, so much that the throne was under threat, and at the time, that was a real problem. If they couldn’t secure the succession, the throne would fall to your grandfather’s brother. He was a lot like your Uncle Lucien.
A similar lust for power that borders on obsession and the willingness to do anything to get it.”
Caster didn’t remember much of either of his grandparents; too much time had passed. A smattering of stories from his father and Uncle Lucien made up much of his memory.
“At the time, with no medical advancements to speak of, their only option was a magical one.”
She chuckled. “But the Grand Coven was shrouded in mystery. Somehow, your grandmother found a witch, a Fire Witch, and she came up with a spell that would guarantee her children. Twin boys.”
She paused for a breath, her distraction taking on a life of its own.
“But her assistance came at a price. This Fire Witch wanted to be Grand Priestess of the Coven, but she needed outside help.”
She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret.
“She needed a way to hold more power than her body could handle. You know that before Riley’s immortality spell, too much power could kill a witch, right?”
Caster nodded, riveted by the story.
Awe infused his mother’s words, and he remembered why he’d loved her stories as a child.
She expressed every emotion in them, bringing the past to life.
“This witch, Riley’s Grandmother, had an idea to infuse various objects with the magic her body couldn’t handle. Your grandmother told me that over the course of her pregnancy, the witch would visit with a new artefact.
She would expel her collected magic into it and leave it with the royal family for safekeeping. Until one day, she found your grandfather inspecting those very swords. The swordsmith who had created them had spent years getting them just right, and they were meant to be battle weapons.”
Caster tilted his head to the side when she paused.
“The witch said their craftsmanship, the effort the swordsmith had put into making them, made them the perfect conduits for her magic. The King, your grandfather, refused at first.”
She waved her hands. “He was at war with… I don’t remember who, and he needed his weapons. It is only when the witch promised him that he could still use them, that they would prove even more effective with her magic guiding them, that he consented.
Turns out she had either misrepresented her magic or had been unaware of its effects. Perhaps it was the combination of the already special nature of the weapons and the magic; we’ll never know, but they proved very effective.
They were the only weapons on the battlefield that could kill a Born-Vampire with a single stab or even the slightest of cuts.”
Caster gasped. That was not possible…
“Sure, they lost that quality when the witch eventually came for her power, but some of it must have remained in them. You can feel it when you use them, can’t you?”
“Yes.” He looked at Mark. “He could feel it.”
“My point is, my beautiful boy. The Goddess seemed to have prepared a weapon that could tear through reality to save him. The question you need to ask is not why she tests you, but why would she go to all the trouble?”
She waited for him to find the significance of what she said.
Their eyes met across the bed, and he squeezed Mark’s hand.
“He came to you, now, for a reason. I think that something is over the horizon, something we will need to come together to handle, and he is the bridge connecting all of us.”
His father had said something similar, and as his breath washed over his tense muscles, Caster tried to see what his parents could. But all he heard, all he felt was the real shattering of his heart. Nothing meant anything if Mark could not find a way back to him.