CHAPTER 5

 

 

Aisanna walked through a boreal forest, recognizing cold-weather trees and brush. Sunlight streamed through the branches and illuminated the peeling white barks of ash and birch. Leaves caught the golden brightness and shimmered against a blinding backdrop sky of pure blue. The sun was warm on her face.

She held her breath before exhaling loudly, the frigid winter air pushed from her lungs. She drew summer inside of her in its place.

Logically, she knew this was a dream. It had the vague and ephemeral quality where nothing felt real. The colors were too vivid. The ground too soft beneath her bare feet. The air too warm and soft and perfect.

At least her mind had stilled. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other even when she didn’t know where she was going. Or why she was here.

She didn’t fear the woods. She held out her hand, and the blossoms on a nearby mountain ash bush responded instantaneously. They sprang to life in deep hues of red and rose. The vision reminded her of her mother and grandmother. The proud women of her line.

Every single bush ringing the forest floor burst into full bloom at the snap of her fingers. Although sweet mountain ash had no scent, she manipulated the flowers and lifted a blossom to her nose, drawing in the intoxicating fragrance: a combination of jasmine and honeysuckle.

It felt delicious to use her magic in this place. As natural as each breath she took, as automatic as the blood flowing through her body. She flexed her fingers and watched fern-green sparks dance along her skin.

The wind whispered through pine and spruce, creamy sunlight illuminating the autumn colors.

“You have a talent.”

A stranger spoke, his voice deep and easy. Aisanna remained calm. She recognized the cadence and rhythm of it and knew he meant no harm. The man leaned against the nearest birch tree and gazed at her through hazel eyes. With a straight nose, wide lips, and impressive cheekbones, he was attractive in the conventional sense. His looks average, ambiguous, and able to blend.

“Am I dead?” she asked him, fondling a bud until the flower grew to fit in the palm of her hand.

He shook his head and moved forward to stand beside her. His own fingertips reached out to run along a crimson petal. “No, but your body is in dire need of assistance. I’ve sent someone to your aid; it’s up to you to pull through. If you have the will.”

“She was there,” Aisanna said softly. She glanced back down at the flower and shuddered. “In the backseat of my car.”

Something about the vision made it easy to speak to the man. When she glanced over, he stood less than a foot away. The sun highlighted the tones of his hair, chestnut and mahogany. Kind eyes regarded her with a hint of paternal worry.

He spoke to her in a preternaturally powerful voice. “She’s getting stronger the closer we get to the eclipse. The veil is in tatters. There isn’t enough time to look for answers. You need to fight.”

She quirked a brow. “Do you always talk in riddles?”

He chuckled. “No, not really. I wish I could help you more. This is the best I can do without actively intervening. I’m not strong enough to step in yet, even for you. I can, however, show you the past.” He reached out until his fingertips grazed the sides of her head. “Watch. And learn.”

Stars exploded in white-hot supernovas inside her mind. She raced through time and saw the planets being born. Worlds upon worlds, different dimensions existing at the same time. Gravity reached out and took her down, the elements bending around her.

Then she focused on Earth and saw it take shape with the ability to sustain life. She saw the first humans evolving from the disorder. Those first few became many, and tribes migrated across the land masses. Then came the first with the genetic potential to wield magic. Magic, woven into the fabric of their world with tendrils stretching from the second reality imposed on top of it, separated by a thin layer of gas and ice. There was no veil then.

Those first witches and wizards were out of control, their powers ebbing and flowing like great oceans, and those without the strength to regulate their new gifts returned to the void. Magic was different then. It was light and life and crazed agony. Wars were fought over it. Children were born with identical powers of their parents, only to die within seconds of their Awakenings, unable to physically handle their magic. Leaders rose, generals among thieves, and chaos gave way to terrible times. The Dark Age.

One such leader knew something had to be done to control the flow between the two realms. To still the raging river of wild magic into something more manageable. He would not let his pride sway him from the task. He would not follow the commands of his peers, his elders telling him to accept the world as it was. He wanted a wall to separate the lands until there was no direct passage toward the ancient magicks. No way in and no way out.

He wanted his people to stop dying.

A man of flawless stealth and skill, he forged through legend and mythology to find the source of the balance. This man searched through the farthest reaches of his universe. And then he found a way.

Aisanna tried to see him and found she could only see through his eyes. He watched a thousand lights spin into a singularity. A stone. A massive stone made of the purest white and darkest black. A stone with the ability to provide a solution…at a price.

The man looked harder for an answer, unwilling to accept those consequences even if it meant success in his quest. He knew what the stone promised, just as he knew what he would lose to touch it. Though he looked harder, he saw nothing. And his wife saw only power. She turned to the stone and offered up her life, along with his. A choice she didn’t realize would be her undoing.

Then they were both lost.

Plummeting back to the present, Aisanna lost her grip on the flower and knew her time was fleeting. In this dream world of perpetual light, she felt no strain on her body. Already reality called her back. Harsh sounds interjected like a cacophony, the honking of horns and blare of a siren.

“What’s happening? What did I just see?”

The stranger’s eyes met hers, and pain spread through Aisanna when the two worlds blurred. “They got to you in time. You’re going back. Lucky for you, witches are pretty hard to kill. It will take a lot to recover from this, but I have faith. You will.”

She reached out to touch the man, her anchor to a world of goodness and peace. “Can’t I stay here?” she asked, her voice soft and distant.

Reality beckoned her until she saw only the hint of his smile left behind. “It’s not your time.”

Her world exploded in agony as she woke on a stretcher, blood dripping down her face in long cherry-colored lines.

“She’s awake. Tighten the neck brace and get her in the ambulance.”

“Where am I?” she croaked out, though she may have spoken only in her mind.

The no-nonsense, thickset woman on the first responder team handled her business effectively and with forceful command. “I said to get her in the ambulance! I’ve radioed the hospital. We’ll be there in ten.”

They loaded Aisanna with efficiency, strapping her down with her limbs braced and straight, into the waiting hull of an intensely lit emergency vehicle. She wavered in and out of consciousness, aware of needles poking into her skin and drawing blood, people moving around her in a buzz of activity.

They made it to the hospital and brought her inside with little fanfare. Somewhere along the line, Aisanna gave up the fight. Oblivion drew her down into a comfortable embrace and she appreciatively stayed there.

It may have been hours or days. When she finally opened her eyes, pain met her. Greeted her like an old friend and she wished she could have stayed under a little bit longer.

“Oh, thank God! My baby! Aisanna Grace, what on earth happened to you?”

Varvara Renata Cavaldi lunged forward to embrace her daughter, jostling every bone in her body in the process. Her heart jerked painfully and Aisanna tried to respond, to tell her mother she was in agony. No sound emerged. Her head swam and the muscles of her neck contracted.

“Mom, let up. Let her up!” Tiny hands pulled the woman aside and Aisanna drew in a labored breath. “She’s been through a lot. She doesn’t need you trying to smother her.”

The light, sweet sound of her youngest sister’s voice was a balm.

The last thing Aisanna remembered was the hum of hospital machines and the drone of hundreds of voices. Thousands of smells like bleach and full-strength cleaners. When she opened her eyes now, when the fuzz lifted, she recognized the familiar walls of her childhood bedroom.

“The doctors were worried. We’ve been up with you since we insisted they bring you home.” Varvara clutched at Aisanna’s hand and situated herself on the edge of the mattress. A sob hitched in her throat. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’re here.”

Their mother was older than most people guessed, deciding to have her children only once she had fully explored her youth. No one suspected her of pushing sixty, with the same small build and pale skin as her daughters. Her hair was the black of a crow’s wing, dark ebony with hints of silver streaks. She wore it in a mass of curls piled atop her head.

Aisanna blinked, images swimming before her eyes and causing a wave of dizziness. Had someone thrown her under a bus? Literally?

Her unfocused eyes took in the few boy-band posters dotting the walls, and knickknacks collected from her childhood lined wooden shelves. Familiar faces ringed around her like a pantomime of misery. She recognized her mother and sisters, her father hanging back to survey the scene. Astix, still uncomfortable with the idea of being part of a family again, lingered near the door, ready to make a hasty escape.

“Thank God you’re okay.” Varvara bent to kiss Aisanna’s hand. “We can’t lose you, too.”

“Are you sure we should have taken her out of the hospital?” Karsia asked, the youngest of them. She was the pinnacle of beauty in the family. Fresh-faced, with lush pouty lips and milky skin. Passionately loyal, her tender heart made her easy to wound. “I’m still not sure this is the best idea. She has a concussion.”

“The doctors said she was clear to be moved.” There, the deep rumbling baritone of her father, Thorvald. “No broken bones or anything. She’s better off here than in a hospital, anyway. What do you think the administrators would say when she starts to heal after two days, with magic to help speed her healing?”

“Thorvald, stop.”

“You guys are speaking about her like she’s not here. Aisanna can clearly hear you,” Astix commented.

Varvara hung her head. “I’m sorry. We don’t want to upset you, sweetheart.”

Aisanna reached for Astix in an unspoken plea, and the middle sister crossed the space to gingerly sit on the side of the bed. She wore her signature black, a bomber jacket and leggings spiked through with swirls of blue. The familiar gold band in her nose glinted in the light from the two bedside lamps.

“Hey, you,” she said gently. “You doing okay?”

Aisanna found comfort in the familiarity, even while her mother cut off the circulation in her hand. “I’ve been better.”

“You don’t need to speak,” Astix began, “but something happened in your car. Something dark and unnatural. You know what I’m talking about. Was it…her?”

Aisanna didn’t have the strength to argue or lie. There was no hiding this time. She nodded jerkily, the motion causing black spots to dance before her vision. Nope, not a good idea. Very, very bad idea.

“The doctor said you have a concussion,” Karsia repeated. She wiped at her eyes. “No broken bones, miraculously, although the car was totaled. You hit a truck and spun out of control. The technicians told us your brake lines were sliced.” She wrung her hands together, knuckles turning white. “Some nice man called the police and sat with you until the ambulance arrived. We didn’t know what to do!”

Aisanna wanted to tell Karsia not to cry. Unfortunately, the rest of her refused to cooperate.

She didn’t recall a nice man. She didn’t remember the details of her crash, either. Nothing beyond seeing an icy smile, feeling fingers of darkness travel over her skin. The voice inside of her head causing her insides to boil.

Her hands balled in response and Aisanna knew her mind had erased the accident, buried it deep. Flashes of memory came back to her, memories of the EMT, the hospital. Beyond that, there was nothing.

She was alive. So much for her make-the-best-of-it-day, but she could be grateful to escape with her life. It was a reminder that no matter how hard she tried, there was no escaping her problems. There was no running from the fear and the anger. Or trying to pretend like it wasn’t time to enter crisis mode.

Guess the universe showed her.

Astix stared at her. “Mom, come on. Give her some room to breathe. Her fingers are turning blue.”

“I…I don’t know what will happen if I let her go.” After a moment, Varvara released her and, with a timid sniff, moved to slump in a nearby chair as though the worry had sapped the energy from her body. She wilted like a flower in a lurid purple jumpsuit. “I’ve been worried for so long, I’m not sure what else to do. I live in terror something is going to happen to one of you.”

“We’re fine,” Astix insisted. “We’re handling it. You focus on keeping yourself safe. And sane.”

“What if you—”

Karsia stepped in. “No. Nothing is going to happen, Mom.”

Aisanna wished she could really believe their words. If someone had asked her two days ago, then yes, she’d have agreed. Nothing bad was going to happen. Between the three sisters, their magic was enough to make it to the eclipse without losing their minds and having everything fall apart. They were going to find Zee, find the Harbinger witch, and help stop the veil from thinning and releasing wild magic into their world.

Now? With a slight concussion and seeing faces in the shadows? She wasn’t sure anymore.

“How long,” she managed to croak, “have I—”

“Two days,” Astix interrupted.

Aisanna’s eyes widened at the words. How could two days have passed without her? Who was taking care of her business?

Astix shook her head and rose. “Rest. Okay? Rest and get better. I’m here and I’m going to figure out what the hell happened.”

“It was an accident.” Karsia, anything but convinced, crossed the room to the window. She stood for several seconds before moving again, the motion within her unable to be contained. “It’s no good assuming things and making your own conclusions. We won’t know anything until Aisanna feels well enough to tell us. Helping her should be our main focus right now.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Karsia.” Astix went to leave, the sound of her footfalls absorbed by the carpet. “The veil is fraying, and we’re here cooing like doves around her bedside instead of doing something. It’s not going to help.”

“Sit, young lady.” Thorvald motioned for Astix to park herself on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. “There’s no need for you to run off as soon as she wakes up.”

“I’m not running off, Dad. But Aisanna needs to rest and I need to work. End of story.”

Something about her movement reminded Aisanna of a dream, a half-remembered snippet. It took everything in her but she found her voice. “She wants me this time. She wants…me.”

Astix turned, regarding them, the wheels of her mind churning. The others looked to Aisanna for answers when she had none. The two girls held eye contact for several seconds before Astix nodded, once, and walked out of the room.