Alyse James
Earlier that day - South of Toronto, Canada
Alyse James snuggled deeper into her grandmother's settee and took a sip of hot mint tea. Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky and a slow rain had fallen all day. Cuddled beside her were her two cats, Sabine and Anaïs, both black and completely content to lounge beside their mistress on this rainy afternoon. Her grandmother's grimoire lay across her lap. A forbidden treasure she paged through each time Mémé and her two uncles left the house. Today, they had taken the wagon to Toronto for a delivery, and told her not to expect them back until after dark.
Uncle Bernard had tasked her to cut the fabric for the chair cushions to be delivered with the dining room set next month. Her uncles made fine furniture. She and Mémé produced the delicate petit point cushions. The fabric cuttings for the chairs were stacked by the canvas frame near the fireplace. Furniture craft earned their living, but it was not who they were ... or not all they were.
Alyse had grown up with their family secret. Raised by her grandmother, Chantal James, and twin uncles, Bayard and Bernard, Alyse learned basic spellcraft before she could walk.
She had a strong affinity for both Fire and Air elements, but lacked even the most rudimentary skill when working with Water or Earth. Uncle Bay teased her lack of water-skills unmercifully, but she knew what she lacked in Water or Earth, she more than made up for with Fire. For five years now, since her twentieth birthday, she had practiced her fine fire control becoming more than adept at its manipulation.
She finished reading one of the fine control spells in the grimoire and consigned it to memory. She repeated the spell several times before she opened her dark eyes and focused on the lamp's flame across the room.
“Viens à moi, feu!” she whispered, and held out her hand.
Anaïs raised her head and watched as a portion of the flame jumped from the lamp to Alyse, and danced in the palm of her hand.
Words weren't required to enact the spell, French or otherwise. She just liked the way French rolled at the back of her mouth. “You see, Anaïs? I can gather one flame from another and make it grow.” With a wave of her finger, the small flame in her hand stretched taller.
Unimpressed, Anaïs rested her head on her paws and shut her eyes.
Alyse closed her fist and snuffed the flame. She browsed through several more incantations and diary entries, when the spell to heal caught her eye. She’d read this entry before, even tried it several times on the injured animals her beloved pets gifted her. They always died. Sometimes quite horribly. “Don de guérison,” she said softly, which meant ‘Gift of healing’. She turned the page and moved on to find an interesting air spell. She could work air magic as well as she could fire.
She gasped as her heart rate accelerated. Both cats hissed and jumped from the couch. Her vision tunneled as cold perspiration broke across her brow. A soft whimper escaped the back of her throat and she panted in terror.
Is this me? No. Who then?
She rode with someone in a dark space.
Amy... Amy... The name whispered through her mind.
Enough light entered to see the woman's hands test the dimensions of the tight space. They were locked inside a wooden box.
Beyond the dark prison, the sounds of a fight—no, a beating. Fist connected to flesh and a cry of pain. Again and again. Helplessness consumed her, and she sobbed in sympathy and terror.
A crash shook the floor beneath her. Pounding footsteps and a primal scream shocked her into silence. The shattering of glass outside her prison, and a single gunshot, galvanized her into motion. She screamed and pounded on the walls. “Let me out!”
The door opened, and she blinked, blinded by the sudden brightness. A breath of freedom filled her lungs as strong arms pulled her from the box and embraced her.
A man's breathless voice asked her—asked Amy—if she'd been injured.
Emotion erupted in her chest, and she clung to the man's dusty jacket as her knees buckled.
Alyse pulled back, separating herself from the terrified woman’s emotions. She'd heard her uncles talk about casting spells while twyned—how they could see through each other's eyes. They hadn't warned her about the emotional entanglement of a shared perspective.
As best she could, Alyse lent the woman a calm strength.
You are safe. Be calm.
The woman turned to a blonde-haired girl who lay across the bed. One eye swollen shut, the other half-opened. The girl’s dress was torn from the throat to the waist, her breasts covered with blood.
A tall dark-haired man wrapped the dead young woman in a blanket and lifted her to his chest. Tears left tracks on his dusty face and a low moan escaped his lips.
Her twyned partner—Amy—refused to give up. She directed the man to put the body down on the bed, to empty her mouth of blood. Straddled above the body, she placed her hands on the girl's chest and stomach.
In that moment, Alyse's world changed. Through this woman's earth-magic, she could see the damage inside the girl's body. Without thought, she pushed her fire-skill through her partner’s hands and their magic twisted together. They were twyned and they were twins. Her twin’s earth-vision allowed her to observe the damage inside. Healing the woman became child's play. Together, they worked though her wounds and repaired the internal injuries. In the end, Alyse sparked the woman’s heart and filled her lungs with air.
When the girl on the bed took a breath and began to cough, Alyse pulled back. She gazed at the frayed auburn braid and dark-eyed mirror image of herself.
“I will find you,” Alyse whispered, then pulled away and broke the twyne.
* * *
Alyse sat at the petit point frame and pulled bright colored thread through the cloth with a long needle. The mudroom door at the back of the house opened and familiar voices raised in a loud discussion echoed down the hall.
“Of course, I told him no. We've the Chesham contract to complete next month. There's also the summer solstice right around the corner. We'll not have the time,” Bernard argued.
“But you didn't ask me, that's all I'm saying.” Bayard's voice grew louder. “You don't get to make all the decisions yourself.”
Alyse's grandmother sailed into the living area, already divested of her coat, boots and hat. Chantal James stopped beside Alyse and brushed the hair from her forehead and kissed her brow.
“You work late, my dear. I'm sorry we were delayed. Your uncles stayed to discuss additional orders with a former client we happened to meet at dinner. Did you have a nice day?”
Alyse looked up at her beautiful mémé. At eighty-one, she looked no older than sixty. With an elegant posture, she stood straight and slender; her snow-white hair swept up into a loose bun atop her head. Witches aged slower than unskilled humans, if they chose.
“I wanted to wait up for you, Mémé. I've had an interesting day, and I have a question I need to ask.” Alyse wove her needle into the material and paused as her uncles came into the room.
Bay and Bern still argued about the furniture contract. Without breaking eye contact with Alyse, Chantal held her hand toward her sons. Their discussion came to a halt, and they looked from their mother to their niece.
“Is something amiss, darling? Did something happen?” Chantal tipped her head slightly as she observed Alyse.
Alyse moved Sabine and Anaïs from her lap and stood to face her family. She loved them dearly. It hurt to know they had lied to her. All of them. Her entire life.
“Who is Amy?” she asked, her voice tight with controlled anger. Her grandmother and her uncles exchanged uneasy glances, but Alyse kept her gaze locked with Chantal's.
Mémé has the answers.
“Where did you hear that name, dear heart?” Chantal asked with a cautious smile.
All the lamps and fireplace flared for a several seconds and then returned to their former state.
“I have a twin. Never mind where I heard her name. I should have heard it from you.” Alyse's words were darts, aimed at her grandmother. “I should have known her all my life.”
Sabine and Anaïs yowled and ran from the room.
Once again, flames flared, far too high for safety, and fire flickered between the fingers of Alyse's clenched fists.
“Calm yourself, young lady!” Her grandmother gestured with her arm and doused every flame in the room with a thought.
The room went dark, except for the fire Alyse held in her fist. Even her powerful grandmother could not extinguish Alyse's flame. She raised her fist, opened her fingers, and bid the tiny flame on her palm to grow. It illuminated her face and reflected in her eyes.
“I didn't know you were lying because I never looked for lies from you—from any of you.” Her gaze passed over her uncles, then returned to Chantal and her voice lowered. “I trusted you. But make no mistake, I will truth-read everything any of you tell me from now on. You know I can.” Alyse tossed her flame at the fireplace and it flared back to life, along with all the lamps in the room.
Chantal turned away from Alyse and walked into the dining room. “Bernard, make us some tea. This is going to be a long night.” With unruffled elegance, she took a seat at the head of the table.