To Spell & Back Page 4

  A job I nearly lost when my witch powers threatened never to Awaken. Most witches get their power when they turn fourteen. For some, it takes a little longer, and then there are a few witches for whom it never happens at all. It looked like I was going to fall into that last category when I was just days away from turning twenty-five—the witchy cut-off date—and still hadn’t gained my majority.

  That was when Serena got the cockeyed notion she would be the next witch tapped to guard the Balefire, even though that’s not how it works. Sure, the duty would have fallen to the next, most qualified witch if my long-lost mother hadn’t shown up and given me the one element I’d been missing. the Stone of Blood heirloom pendant every Balefire witch had used to Awaken for centuries. I doubt Serena was up to the task, but I’ve since learned more about my family history and now I know it was never that simple.

  I wasn’t certain whether Serena hooked up with my half-brother just to stick it to me, or if she had been stupid enough to actually fall for the jerk. Since I hadn’t known he existed until well after they had already begun playing Bonnie and Clyde, it seemed more likely Jett had purposefully sought her out because she hated me, too. No doubt she blamed Jett’s current predicament on me, and I had no illusions about the dark and terrible ways she was currently plotting revenge.

  Jett was only in this situation because he’d tried to steal the Bow of Destiny before I could get to it, and I was sure that if he did find his way back to our realm, it would be the first thing he’d go after. Over my dead body.

  Of course, if that’s why she was here, the miserable little wench was taking her sweet time. Nearly half an hour passed before the flap of the black tent popped open and Serena emerged with a tight-lipped expression on her pointy face.

  “What are you doing here?” She hissed when she spotted me.

  “The question is, Serena, what are you doing here?”

  “None of your business, you traitorous bitch!” She sauntered toward me, her face mere inches from mine as she spit the last word.

  “Traitorous? You mean, as in not loyal to the brother who tried to kill my boyfriend?”

  “Kin attacked Jett first! Jett was just trying to get to what should have been his all along! That bow belongs to him, not you.” I’d given up the bow to save Kin from the long drop into a deep pit Jett intended for him. Flix had taken things a step further and used the magic of his fae heritage to provide the offender with an epic time-out.

  “It’s not like he’d have much use for it in the Faelands.” A slip that gave her more information than I intended. Serena brings out my irrational side.

  “The Faelands? You’re telling me that halfling had enough juice to send Jett to the Faelands?” Her voice had become so shrill I expected to find a pack of angry dogs circling us by the time she finished. “I must go to him. He needs me.” Drama queen much?

  “Serena,” I stated calmly, even though inside my head I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “Jett was using you. It’s time to move on, get over it. Abandon whatever little scheme you’re plotting and let it go. Don’t be stupid enough to follow after that idiot. You don’t have what it takes to survive in the Faelands, and if you try, someone or something will take you out.”

  “I hate you, Lexi Balefire.” Old news and too often repeated to have any effect on me.

  “Run along now, Serena.”

  Surprisingly, she did run along. Throwing me a wish you were dead look over one shoulder, she slithered back into the same tent she’d just exited. When I turned around to head back home, another familiar face caught my eye, this one wearing a rueful expression as she eavesdropped on my conversation.

  “Adriel?” I asked, as though there was any doubt. Trust me; you’d recognize Adriel in a hot second if you ever saw her.

  Tall, fiery red hair, creamy skin, and emerald eyes that pierced the soul, Adriel—or should I say former guardian angel Galmadriel—had one of those faces that stick in your memory. Especially after seeing her take on an upper-level demon—or rather, a faerie godmother posing as one.

  I met Adriel when, using a fledgling guardian for bait, Vaeta had staged an elaborate ruse to break free from the Underworld. When the dust had settled on that fiasco, I’d gained another faerie roommate and freed my mother from prison. Drawing lines from that day to this, I had Adriel to blame and to thank for my current situation.

  “Alexis. Are you here alone?” Adriel was at least a foot taller than me, so she didn’t need to crane her neck to look behind me. “No faeries with you today.”

  I gave her a cheeky grin, and she offered to buy me lunch. Since I was out of cash anyway, I let her. Once we settled at a picnic table at the edge of the midway, I caught her up on all the changes since our last meeting. I even told her about my part in releasing Sylvana from her prison in the Nexus—and about what I’d seen on my first trip back in time.

  Even though she was locked out of her world and stranded in ours, Adriel had mad skills of her own, and I wondered if she might have advice for me about how to break the spell on Clara.

  “Sorry, there’s nothing I can do to help you. Even when I was a Guardian, it was only within my power to help humans. What about Clara’s faerie godmother? She would be the closest counterpart to the type of work I used to do.” A quirk of her lips indicated Adriel missed being a guardian.

  “Not an option, according to Terra. Something to do with intentions and not saving a witch from her own actions.”

  “Ah, yes. I'm familiar with making those kinds of distinctions.” A tinge of bitterness flavored the sentiment and, not for the first time; I wondered how Adriel had come by her status as a former guardian angel. Something told me there was an interesting story there.

  And then I told her the rest.

  “Cupid’s daughter? That must have come as a shock, though it makes sense given your affinity for lovers.”

  “Not as big a surprise as when my dead mother turned up—not dead. You have no idea.” I shook my head, still having a hard time accepting the situation myself.

  “I do have some experience with handling sudden life changes.” Adriel’s eyebrow quirked and I realized she was right; falling from grace after serving as an angel for an eternity certainly made my family issues seem a bit trifling.

  “So now, I’m supposed to repair the Bow of Destiny, but I don’t have a clue where to start and there’s no one I can ask. Is there anything you can tell me about Fate Weavers?”

  Fingertips tapping on the tabletop, Adriel fell silent for a minute. “I know someone who might be able to help you with the bow. He might also have information for you about Fate Weavers, but you’d have to ask.” She gathered the trash from the table and stood. “I can take you to him now if you have the time.”

  This day just kept getting better. Well, except for the part about Mag’s house. And seeing Serena.

  Adriel’s long legs ate the ground so fast I had to step lively to keep up with her, and by the time we crested the short hill, my calves were feeling the strain.

  “There,” she pointed to a striped tent. “I’ll introduce you, but then I have to go.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “It’s nothing. Come on, and be warned. Lamiel can be a little cranky at times.”

  “Lamiel? Is he a former guardian, too?”

  “Something like that.” I’d have preferred a less cagey answer. Still, if he could help, it didn’t matter to me what role he played in the larger scheme.

  I’d been prepared to meet the male version of Adriel. Tall, handsome, angelic.

  Lamiel looked more like an accountant than a messenger from above. He stood when we entered the tent, and proved himself shorter than me. Dark, expressive eyes flanked the long nose he lifted in the air disdainfully.

  It’s not easy to look down your nose at someone when you have to look up to see them, but he managed it. He pressed his lips into a straight line, and not a single mousy hair on his head was out of place.

>   “This is Alexis Balefire. She needs information about the Bow of Destiny,” Adriel explained after introductions were out of the way, and then she excused herself. I wondered if she would be waiting once I left the tent.

  I took the chair he indicated and cleared my throat. “Specifically, I need to know how to repair it.”

  “Repair it? How on earth did you break it?”

  The question I hoped he wouldn’t ask. “I didn’t. My faerie godmother did. When she took it away from my mother.” How’s that for a dysfunctional family dynamic? That last I kept to myself, and still his eyebrows shot nearly up to his hairline. “It’s in four pieces at the moment.”

  “Living gold.” Lamiel nodded as though the cryptic statement should be enough of a clue.

  “Living gold?”

  Lamiel went into lecture mode.

  “Living gold is the subject of many myths and is said to pave the streets of Heaven. I can neither confirm nor deny the assertion. Certain pieces of knowledge I am forbidden to reveal. Few humans—witches included—have ever had the power or ability to work living gold. Both magic and fire are required in the forging process. However, it has been used to create a number of powerful objects that you would recognize if you paid attention to your legends.”

  “Fire and magic? What about a magical fire, then?”

  “Ah, yes. Adriel did say you were a member of the Balefire clan. It might be possible were there any living gold left to be found.”

  “What does that mean?” It sounded bad.

  “There was an incident involving a golden crown that fell into the hands of a corrupt ruler, and so, for the good of humanity, all the living gold was gathered up and taken to Olympus for safe-keeping.”

  Olympus. Great.

  “Can’t I go there and get some? I'm Cupid’s daughter; I should be able to go to Olympus, right?”

  “Even if you survived the trip, you would not be allowed access. Unless you have a time machine, I’m afraid you are out of luck.” A time machine? Hmm.

  “And I can’t use the Balefire to, I don’t know, melt the broken places, so they re-attach?”

  “Once forged, living gold cannot be smelted a second time. Your intention to repair, but not alter the bow might be enough, but I can’t promise more than that.”

  “Well, thanks for all your help.” I started to stand, then settled back into my chair, “What can you tell me about Fate Weavers?”

  “Probably a lot less than you want to know. My dealings with them are peripheral at best—different deities, different rules.” Leaning back in his chair, Lamiel steepled his hands and began to recite as though by rote.

  “Fate Weavers. The progeny of Cupid—sometimes known as Eros—and a blood witch; gifted with the ability to discern and affect nuances of human fate specifically through the pairing of proper bloodlines and fostering True Love's Kiss."

  The pinched lines around his mouth made me think Lamiel wasn't a fan of my process. Maybe he thought it gave a semi-mortal too much power. Maybe he was right.

  But you knew most of this already, didn’t you?” Lamiel’s eyes scanned me like an emotional x-ray that left my every secret laid bare before him, but kept all of his safely behind glass.

  “I did.” Since there was nothing left to hide, I went for broke. "My father seems to have dropped off the map and my mother is convinced he is lost in some way. Do you know where he is?"

  From mild displeasure, Lamiel's face went to looking like he was sucking on a sour pickle and he didn’t even bother to spit out the no, so I asked one more question.

  “Are there others out there like me?”

  Eyes shifting to the papers littering the table, Lamiel admitted, "Over time, there have been a fair few."

  Getting information out of him was like trying to pry the lid off a can with a wet noodle, but I gave it one last shot. "Can you tell me where I might find another Fate Weaver?"

  “I’m sorry, but no. Goodbye, Miss Balefire.” And that was his final word on any subject, so I left feeling largely unenlightened, but hopeful from learning I was not alone in the Fate Weaver world.

  Adriel had not waited for me outside the tent, and it was getting late when I began to make my way back toward the portal with a thousand errant thoughts whirling through my head. Instead of leaving the Fringe, though, I spun around in the direction from which I’d come and headed back to the creepy tent Serena had been so interested in earlier.

  Curiosity. I know, it can be a killer, but I was seduced by the need to know.

  This tent was nothing like the one where Athena’s Attic was housed; though a similar engorgement charm had increased its square footage considerably. As I pulled back the folds and stepped inside, the musky scent of sandalwood made my nostrils flare in appreciation—but another awareness, this one tickling my sixth sense, set the butterflies in my stomach stirring. There was a faerie inside if I wasn’t mistaken—and I definitely wasn’t.

  She wore a long robe of black that shimmered with what I hoped wasn’t faerie dust (a single speck of that stuff could turn you into a toad faster than you can say croak) and her face was just as beautiful as any of my godmother’s, save for the fact that it was twisted into an expression of disgust that only partially abated when she greeted me.

  “May I help you?” The faerie asked as though I had no right to be there at all. Maybe I didn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop me from finding out what I wanted to know.

  “I was hoping you could tell me what my friend Serena was here for...” I trailed off, realizing a second too late that I’d made a cardinal mistake.

  “Friend, you say? That conversation you were having outside didn’t sound very friendly to me.” Not only can faeries smell a lie from a mile away, but they can also hear one, too.

  I shifted uncomfortably, “You’re right, we’re the opposite of friends.” Now that I was waist deep, I might as well dive all the way in. “Actually, she’s a psychopath with a grudge against me.”

  “Ah, the truth at last. At least, your truth. Was that so difficult?”

  I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question, so I remained silent.

  “It wouldn’t be fair for me to divulge the personal details of a paying customer, would it?” She rubbed her thumb and first two fingers together, eyes twinkling.

  I sighed and dug around in my bag for anything she might accept. The only thing of value I could find was a small diamond that had fallen off my birthday tiara. Don’t laugh, but I’ve heard you can cut glass with a diamond, so I thought it would be a good thing to have in my back pocket, just in case I was ever, I don’t know, stuck in a glass box.

  Hey, I'm a witch, weird things happen.

  If I'd have found it at Athena's earlier, I’m sure I would have spent it already, so fate was looking out for me.

  I offered the bit of sparkle to the faerie, “There, now I’m a paying customer, too.” She tucked the diamond into a pocket and cleared her throat.

  “The other witch wanted to know how to get in contact with her faerie godmother.”

  Not remotely what I had expected, that’s for sure. “And is there a way? I mean, how would one go about doing that?”

  “There is a way, but it’s unpleasant. And that’s all I’ll say. Besides, you don’t need that information; you’re already quite familiar with your own, aren’t you Lexi Balefire?”

  I dodged the question, and, wondering whether every supernatural being in the Fringe knew my name, made my way out of the tent.

  Chapter Five

  WHEN I REACHED MY HAND into the Balefire flame and grasped the lever positioned at the center of the fire, a thin membrane of magic kept my fingers at a normal ninety-eight point six. Without it, they’d have been charred to the bone. The fireplace rotated, creating a large enough space for me to walk unimpeded into the space behind.

  Looking at the blueprint, you’d think Soleil’s room was positioned on the other side of the wall, but by some charm I sincerely hoped I’
d have the power to one day cast, the hearth opened instead into a cavernous space I had dubbed my “sanctum.”

  That’s some serious magic.

  Half again the size of the house, the room existed in its own dimension. Filled with everything a witch could ever need—shelves of books on witch lore, cauldrons of every size and shape, and enough ingredients to whip up practically any potion—it had become my personal sanctuary.

  In the center below an impressive domed skylight lay a casting circle and a podium holding the Book of Shadows handed down to me from my grandmother. The only thing I’d never found was a broom to ride on...not that I knew how to ride one anyway, and I hadn’t dared to ask Salem about it in case it was one of those myths that he would tease me about later. Sounded like fun though, unless riding a broom gives one a wedgie.

  After having spent a little time at Athena’s Attic number two, the bulk of items I’d once believed would take a lifetime to sort through suddenly seemed paltry in comparison. Salem must have been worried sick about me, because he was pacing across the stone dais positioned in the center of the space, tracing the five-pointed star pattern of a pentagram set into the stones.

  When I opened my mouth to greet him, he threw me a look that made me shut it again and give him some space.

  While he pulled himself together, I made myself busy straightening the shelves even though I really wanted to unpack my recent purchases and add them to the stores. Another glance at his expression reinforced the decision to not flaunt my illicit shopping.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the Fringe? I could have come with you, you know, made use of my contacts, shown you around. Will you ever stop thinking of me as a pet?”

  Salem was in his human form, which to me, by now, wasn’t much different than his cat form. While true enough to have become a cliché, the stories about witches and black cats lacked a few important details.