Chapter Seventeen

 

 

With the instructions she’d been given from Owen, some guy she’d never met who talked directly into her mind named Carrick, and Jed – who was the most knowledgeable Peace Chief she’d ever met, and that included her Uncle Mac, Elle wanted to ignore every word and race to Gage.

“And that would solve absolutely nothing,” Jed’s voice resonated through her mind. “You know what we have to do and how we have to do it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a horse’s ass?”

“Every day of my life.” Jed’s voice was filled with laughter even though Elle could see how incredibly focused he was on Geraldine Furity. 

Shocked didn’t begin to explain what she’d felt when Carrick had opened a pathway through the black magic clouding the ice cavern and helped Elle see through Gage’s eyes. Never in a million years would she have believed the frail, crotchety, old schoolmarm had been parading around with a buttload of nasty, mixed-up magicks and was the one who’d murdered her family, but then Owen added his powerful Dragon enchantment to Carrick’s and Elle could see that it wasn’t the old woman at all. It was something so evil, so dangerous, so absolutely malignant that is nearly defied explanation.

So many things suddenly made sense. Like how the hell Geraldine Furity had lived so long. How she always stayed the same. And, why she was always such a wretched bitch. Having a tyrannical ancient being shoving you aside, possessing your body, and ultimately making you its puppet had to suck on an epic scale.

For a split-second Elle felt bad. She knew there was no way to kill the Psônen without killing whatever was left of Miss Furity and for that she was sorry. But, there was no way she was going to let a monstrous freak of a bird destroy one more person, family, or living thing. The beast had to go and she and Gage were the ones to do it.

Prophecies and Destiny are truly giant, soul-sucking, pains in the ass… Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to be the Rain Bird, Betsy was the oldest...

Thinking of her sister led to thinking about her parents which ended up with Elle remembering when she, her mom, and Betsy were on the way to her first day of kindergarten…

“I don’t know why the teacher has to call me Eleanor. I hate that name. Can’t she just say Elle like everyone else?”

“No,” Betsy sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Everyone goes by the names they were given when they were born. Right, Momma?”

“Shut up, know-it-all, blabbermouth, Betsy Wetsy.”

“Eleanor Elizabeth Burntwing, apologize to your sister right now. You know we do not call people names.”

“Sorry,” she snapped, holding up her hand to her face to hide her mouth from her mother’s eyes in the rearview and sticking out her tongue at her sister just as her mother launched into one of her many speeches.

“Your father and I worked very hard to give you girls names we thought were befitting of the amazing things we both know you will accomplish with your lives. You are both intelligent, beautiful, independent young ladies with hearts of gold and iron wills.”

Stopping at a streetlight, she looked over her shoulder as she continued, “Betsy Ross always followed her heart and mind, even at a very young age. She was expelled from her family and the Quaker Church for marrying her first husband, John Ross and because of that and their move to Virginia became a patriotic icon for sewing the very first stars and stripes flag of the United States. Never faltering in her beliefs, always standing strong and speaking her mind in an age when women were seen and not heard, Betsy Ross is a true role model for women in all walks of life.”

Scowling at her sister who was preening like a peacock, Elle huffed and grumbled under her breath as she turned her head to look out the window when her mother took a break from ‘preaching’ and drove through the intersection. When she started again, Elle could tell her mother was smiling by the light cheery tone of her voice and the fact that she was always smiling when she told the story.

“You, my Little Chicken, are named after the magnificent Eleanor Roosevelt. Not only because she was the First Lady of the United States or that your Granny worked alongside her during WW II, but because she didn’t let being married to the President stop her from accomplishing whatever she set her mind to. She wrote her own newspaper column, focused on helping our country’s less fortunate, stood against racial discrimination of all people, and traveled abroad to visit U.S. troops who were fighting Adolf Hitler’s regime.”

“Anna Eleanor Roosevelt was a great woman, but I believe you, Eleanor Anna Burntwing will surpass anything ever achieved by any other Star of the Morning. You will be…”

“Nooooooooo!” Miss Furity’s shriek cut through Elle’s memory, pulling her back to the reality of the situation and the fight at hand.

“You cannot be here,” the crazy woman squawked. “The magicks will not allow it! The spell is very precise! You are…” Her words disappeared as her face began elongating and feathers started popping out of her skin like pox on a leper.

“Now!” Jed roared.

Holding tight to the grip of Gage’s sword, Elle raised it over her head, lunged forward, and with all the force of her Rain Bird and two seriously old Dragons, launched the blade at the center of the cavern. Watching the weapon arch perfectly through the air, gasping as it cut through the biggest, most decorated Assiniboine Amulets that she knew Jed had tossed in the air, she was riveted into place as the force of pure, unadulterated white magic burst onto the scene.

Everything paused. Every molecule, every particle, every atom, ev-er-y-thing stopped. It was as if the cave and its inhabitants had been frozen in time but were still very much alive, conscious, and freaked the hell out – in no specific order.

Knowing something is going to happen and being a part of the total clusterfuck in explicit and graphic detail is two totally different things, something Elle experienced in spades. Replaying Carrick and Owen’s words over and over in her head, realizing that things were at the very least a thousand times worse than they’d detailed, she was just about to let her Rain Bird free when she heard, “Take a breath. Relax. Things are always worse when you force them.”

“Mom?”

“But of course, my Little Chicken, you didn’t think I would let you go through something this monumental without my help, did you?”

“But…I thought…I mean…I…”

“You can say it. I’m dead. We’re dead. We’ve all come to terms with it, but refuse to rest until we’ve helped you destroy the Psônen.” Rage, fury, and an overpowering desire to set things right filled Elle’s being as her mother added, “It has caused too much pain and must be stopped. No other can suffer as you have.”

  “Wait. What? As I have? What about…”  

“What about me? Your father? Betsy?”

“Well, yeah. You’re the ones who’ve suffered the most.”

Love and affection replaced the rage and fury as her mother’s voice became softer, almost lyrical. “Oh, my Little Chicken, the things I still wanted to share with you.” She sighed. “But Fate, Destiny and the Great Creator know better than we do. We are not suffering, nor did we when our earthly lives were taken. Death is actually the easy part. It is being separated from the ones you love, unable to protect them, to hug them…to talk out problems and kiss you on the forehead no matter how old you get and tell you everything is gonna be alright. It is you, my Little Chicken, who was forced to remain alive, to face an unknown future without your family.”

“Oh mom, I…I…” Her voice cracked and her throat felt as if she’d swallowed a boulder but she forced the words from her mind to her mother’s. “I miss you so much.”

“I know. And we miss you, but just as I always knew, you are stronger than you know, more intelligent than any of us ever could’ve imagined, and the rightful heir to the Rain Bird who now lives within your soul. Today and every day after, you will stand tall, refuse to bow to evil, and honor your heritage. Today, you are no longer my Little Chicken, but the mighty Rain Bird and together, on this sacred ground, we will avenge our deaths.”

The words had barely floated through her mind when a metaphorical switch was flipped on. Waves of magic, fissures of immense power, and sparks of pure, white enchantment expanded outward from the exact point where Gage’s sword and Jed’s Assiniboine Amulet connected.

Thrown backward, Elle skidded across the ice-covered floor stopping scant inches from crashing into the wall as the mysticism of her Rain Bird filled every fiber of her being. Standing firm, she watched the rainbow-colored mushroom cloud of white magic mix with the dark, dangerous clouds of malevolent magicks just as Carrick had predicted.

Falling to her knees at precisely the right moment, she rolled into a ball as the bolts of malicious lightning flew so close to her back that she felt not only the malignant tendrils biting at her flesh, but nearly gagged on the stench of fetid flesh and rancid gore. Holding back her Rain Bird by the thinnest of threads, knowing it was not the time to show her hand, Elle jumped to her feet just in time to see Gage burst free of his ice shackles and hurry to free Junior and his brothers.

Looking around for the Psônen, making sure it hadn’t slithered off to some hidey hole to lick its wounds, she couldn’t help but smile when an all-too-familiar voice sounded in her mind.

“’Bout time you got here. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to kick this feathered freak’s ass all by myself.” His cocky chuckle was a welcome greeting but one she couldn’t let go without giving back as good as she got.

“And that was before or after you let yourself get stuck to a wall?”

“Oh ouch,” Junior’s chuckle invaded her mind the second Gage shattered his icy bonds with a blast of Dragon fire. “Point goes to Elle.”

“Shut up, Junior,” the couple growled in unison at the precise moment Jed bellowed, “Incoming!”

Stopping dead in her tracks, eyes shooting upward, Elle once again ceased to breathe as a dark, buzzing, snapping, snarling gargantuan cloud of Tarantula Hawk Wasps descended from the millions of icicles hanging on the ceiling. Holding out her hand, she followed the images running through her mind like a late-night infomercial.

Snatching Gage’s sword as it flew over her head, she prepared to battle her way to her mate when the Messenger’s voice ordered, “Fire to destroy. Water to cleanse. Love to create. The Blessing to sustain.”

Dropping her gaze, Elle called to her Dragon, “Gage. Get over here. I know how to stop them.”

Searching through the steaming fog and dense florescent clouds of black magic, she demanded, “Gage! Where are you?”

Then she saw him.

On his knees.

The fucking Psônen’s razor-sharp talon at his neck.

And that’s when Elle went from angry to pissed-the hell-off.