Chapter 26
Phin
Icouldn’t speak, and my ears felt clogged, the tone of the bell resounding in my head even though it had been taken from me and placed back on the table.
The yellow smoke had formed a portrait of them, and they looked so detailed, so real it brought tears to my eyes.
It had to be some kind of illusion, but they appeared to be actively looking at me, smiling at me.
My mother even raised a hand and blew me a kiss, the same way she’d done since I was a child.
If ever we locked eyes from across the room, or out the window of our house while I was playing in the yard, that’s what she did.
I hiccupped a sob, and my father’s expression changed, sadness tugging at his eyes.
His head tilted to the side, his cheek resting against my mother’s curls.
My strength returned enough that I was able to reach a hand toward the smoke just before it dissipated.
“Does that mean they’re alive? That they’re okay?” The tears had made my voice even rougher than it usually was.
“I can’t know for certain, but I’d like to think so.” Ophelia took the bundle from me. “Your father. May I ask his name?”
“Radueriel.”
“The poet?” she laughed. “Terra always did have a soft heart.”
The words felt like a compliment, and when she saw my smile, she patted my shoulder.
Tap’s grip loosened when it was clear my body my own once again. He hesitated but dropped his arms completely after a moment.
Ophelia looked over my head at Tap, her eyebrow raised. “Tell me again why you want to break your bond?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated, Ophelia.”
“It doesn’t have to be, demon. You’re just stuck in your head, like usual.
” He sighed, and she tossed her hands up, leaving us standing there as she stalked into the kitchen.
She returned in short order with a sliced loaf of bread and fresh pot of tea.
She settled into her seat with a steaming cup and waited for us to serve ourselves.
“Tell me, then. Your long stories. Let’s see if I can help you uncomplicate them. ”
“Where would you like us to start?” Tap asked, picking at his bread.
“Wherever suits you. I need to know it all, do I not?” When neither of us were forthcoming, she sighed and leaned to one side. “Perhaps at the beginning, then? How did you two happen upon one another in the first place? It’s not like droves of Nephilim are just wandering about the continent.”
He glanced at me and I nodded, indicating he could continue. “I discovered Phin when I visited Aymonroux with Seir. She was living in the church.”
“And why were you in Aymonroux, Phin?”
“My parents left me there, with the priest. For safekeeping.”
“Nephilim are rare but not generally threatened nor considered a threat. Not on their own. So, what is it you were being kept safe from?”
“Heaven.”
“What for?” Ophelia seemed moderately impatient with our short answers.
“There’s an illness. Me and other Nephilim are being sought out so we can help them repopulate.”
Tap growled, and Ophelia grimaced, clearly disgusted by the notion. “Indeed? Well. That explains a few things.” She frowned. “She’s staying with you at the crossroads now?”
“Yes.”
Her head bobbed, and she reached out with a grunt, splashing more whiskey directly into the teapot before pouring herself another cup. “It’s definitely a difficult place to find unless you already know how to get there. Seems a good place to hide, to me. Your hound didn’t stay?”
“Ramsey is hunting the angels who are trying to locate Phin.”
“Ah, well, good for her. May she be successful in her search.” She lifted her cup as though offering a toast, then threw the whole thing back in one gulp.
“She met us in the glade not long ago. Hopefully her quarry doesn’t evade her much longer,” Tap said.
Ophelia nodded solemnly. “And you’re keeping yourself occupied at the crossroads, Phin?”
“Yes, I’m organizing the deals library.”
Ophelia brightened. “That suits, yes, yes.” Her gaze narrowed. “Tell me then, what happened when the bell rang?”
“I have freezing episodes.” I explained it to her as I had to Greta, how my heart races and I lose control of my muscles. She grew more thoughtful the longer I spoke.
“In Aymonroux, the church bell was forged with both demon and angel blood,” Tap explained. “It seemed to trigger them, her own blood responding to the remnants in the bell. But they happen randomly also. Is there something similar in yours?”
Ophelia shook her head. “No, mine is just plain iron, I’ve had it since I was young.
Watched it being forged myself. But there may be something about the tone that triggers them.
The mind is a complicated place.” She reached out a hand.
“May I see your necklace?” I slipped the chain over my head and placed the pendant in her palm.
“Terra was wearing this each time I saw her.” She turned it over, then held it up to the light.
“And her mother before her I’d imagine, though I never met her. When did she pass it along to you?”
“After I got sick once, when I was younger.” That was true, if intentionally vague about what had happened to make me unwell.
“Wise. Amethyst offers protection and healing. It’s also said to be helpful in boosting mental clarity.” She handed it back.
I blinked, understanding more clearly why my mother had given it to me when she had. “I didn’t know that.”
“Did anything improve once Rylan gave you the bracelet? Did the addition of more amethyst help at all?”
At Ophelia’s look, I held out my wrist so she could look at it as well. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“This one is spelled. Partial invisibility?”
“Yes, so she could go into the city without drawing any unwanted attention.”
The sorceress’s head bobbed. “I have to admit, the archmage does nice work. This is good protection, Phin. Keep it on whenever you leave the crossroads.”
“I will.”
Ophelia took another slice of bread and smeared it liberally with honey. She ate the entire thing before speaking again. “Now then, to the reason you came.” I tensed, already trying to organize my thoughts. “That awful tincture, who made it?”
“The apothecary in Aymonroux.”
“And how often were you taking it?”
“Daily.”
“For how long?”
“Since I was taken there. Ten or eleven years.”
She grumbled several colorful words under her breath. “It was not properly made.”
“I don’t understand.” The painful prickle of worry settled under my skin.
There was a heavy knock on the door, and a woman’s voice called out for Ophelia.
“That’ll be Imogen. Tap, would you mind?”
“Of course.” He rose to answer the door, leaving us alone again.
Ophelia shook her head. “It was bad magic, Phin. You’re better off without it.”
Panic started to take hold. “I’m not though. Without it …” Mortified, I gave the simplest version. “I’ll basically go into heat. For days.”
“I’m truly sorry for that but continuing to take that tincture was not a viable option.” She gripped my hand, urgency in her tone. “I tasted quieting cane. Hemlock. Foxglove. Effective at suppressing a number of things no doubt, but dangerous, lazy work. Poison, Phin. Greta took a sample?”
My blood went cold. Hemlock and foxglove were well known toxins. “Yes, she did. I’ve never heard of quieting cane, what is that?”
She just shook her head. “It burned going down, yes?” I nodded.
“Because it was actually burning you, child. It’s no doubt to blame, at least in part, for why your voice is the way that it is.
” She shook her head. “I’d bet she’s figured it out herself by now, but tell Greta I tasted those things. She’ll understand.”
More confused than ever, I looked up as Tap led a tall, broad-shouldered woman into the room. She had long dark hair and a gentle smile, though she was built like a warrior.
“Greetings, my girl,” Ophelia said. “Imogen, this is Phin, Tap’s Nephilim mate.”
“Ophelia.” Tap sighed her name and pinched the bridge of his nose. It might have been funny if the whole situation hadn’t left me feeling so off balance and nauseated.
“It’s true.” Ophelia threw her hands up, unapologetic.
“Hello.” Imogen raised a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know she had company today.”
“You’re all welcome here.” Ophelia waved her hand dismissively, and I was curious as to why that response made Tap’s eyebrows go up and Imogen smile, but that question would have to wait.
“Imo, come have a seat. Get yourself some tea and a snack. I’ve got to look for something these two need, and he’s going to make me a portal.
Tap, come with me.” She waved him over to a set of bookshelves at the back of the room.
While nothing was truly that far away, it was enough that their hushed conversation was too quiet to hear.
Imogen did as Ophelia asked, methodically spreading honey over the soft bread but sniffing at the tea after pouring only a tiny bit and setting it right back down.
“Are you the one my brother Tormund was keeping an eye on? In Aymonroux?”
I startled at the question, then vindication settled in. I’d been right, the statue on the church roof had been moving. “I suppose I was. Though I never got to meet him, of course.”
She nodded. “He just arrived back at the conclave this morning, so perhaps one day soon you will. He was posted there for quite a while.”
“Could you thank him for me? Sounds like he may have been responsible for misdirecting at least a few of the people I was trying to stay hidden from.”
“I will.” She smiled, clearly pleased by the idea.
I wasn’t sure what to say after that, and our brief conversation hit an awkward lull.
After she’d finished her bread, she gestured at Tap and Ophelia, who were huddled together over an old tome she’d put on a reading stand.
Tap’s shoulders were hunched and tense, and Ophelia was clearly telling him something it didn’t appear he wanted to hear.
He then stalked over to the table with all the crystals on it and started assembling something in another little cauldron.
Ophelia followed behind, watching over his shoulder.
“You chose a good day. Usually she’s not so accommodating,” Imogen said, but her smile made me wonder if she wasn’t quite telling me the truth. Her eyes dipped to my necklace. “That’s pretty. Family heirloom?”
“Thanks. And yes.”
She nodded. “So interesting they all look so much alike.”
Somehow, I’d put it out of my mind that the other women had similar jewelry. I fought the urge to reach for the pendant, opting instead to sip at my tea that was mostly whiskey and regretting my choice.
“I’m the forge mistress at the stone kin conclave.
I’m working on some Dark blades now, to better defend against the angels, should things go sideways.
But for you … perhaps something more specific.
” Her head tilted to the side as she scrutinized me.
It should have made me feel uncomfortable, but there was nothing threatening about it.
“That’s very kind, but I’m pretty miserable with weaponry.”
She laughed, and the sound reminded me immediately of her father.
“Well, still. Everyone needs a good knife. Maybe we can find you something you feel comfortable with? I’m sure there’s lessons to be had as well, if you care to learn.
Myself, or my sister could show you, though Calla is also very skilled.
” She tapped her finger to her chin. “Honestly I’d bet anyone at d’Arcan would be happy to catch you up. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind. What’s a conclave?”
“That’s what we call our settlement outside of Revalia.”
“There are a lot of you, then? Stone kin?”
Imogen reached for her cup, then seemed to remember she didn’t want it. “Yes. We have grown steadily in numbers over the years we’ve been there.”
“And a … Dark blade? What’s that?” I felt like I’d stumbled into a whole other world and it was exposing just how sheltered my upbringing had been.
“Oh. It’s a sword or dagger, is all. Just forged in a way that enhances its effectiveness against angels.
Some fae too.” She shrugged. “Greta is largely responsible for our understanding of them, actually. Light blades are forged with angelic essence—blood or a feather usually—and are more dangerous against demons. Dark blades are forged with demon essence and are more effective against angels and fae.” She frowned, seeing me tense. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. It’s just, I’m both, so it sounds like I’d be in danger from either one.”
“Plain steel is always an option, though of course still deadly.” She nodded empathetically. “In any case, it seemed like a good idea to get started on some additional weapons for the armory, given the circumstances.”
It was me. I was the circumstances. My presence required an entirely new batch of weapons to be made. My stomach twisted. No wonder Tap was uncertain about having sealed the bond.
Tap stepped away from Ophelia as she started laughing and they joined us back in the small living area.
“Thank you, Ophelia,” Tap said, even giving her a little bow.
“Think about all I’ve said,” was her response. “Both of you. I appreciate the portal. Set it up on your way out?”
“Of course. Nice to see you again, Imogen.”
“Tap.”
I stood as it became clear we were leaving. I turned to the sorceress, confused, and a bit relieved that we were going. “Thank you.”
“Come back to see me if you need to, Phin. My door is always open to you.”
Flattered, I responded that I would, said my goodbyes to Imogen, and followed Tap outside.
He remained silent as he led me to one side of the yard, the weight of the wards pressing down the second we were out of the cozy hut.
“Here,” he said softly, reaching out for my hand. My heart leapt and I took it, stunned as I watched him pour what looked like black sludge out of the little iron cauldron onto the trunk of a massive tree. The thick liquid dripped and expanded into an arched door shape. “Ready?”
I nodded, and he pulled me along with him through the new portal.