Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 35
"Child, I—"
I take Gran's poised hand, holding it tight between my own as I latch onto something deeper inside me; my light.
"Do not blame the sword for cutting down the man,” I plead, “but the one who wielded it." Gran makes a faint tsking noise, fire doused.
She sniffs, but just once, and her glossy eyes restore to their keen-eyed ways. "When did you become so wise?"
I smile weakly. "I had plenty of good mentors."
We hug. I practically throw myself into Gran's body, paying no mind for the way she stumbles back or her soft laugh at my exuberance. I stuff my face into the hollow of her shoulder and breath in her scent of flowers and magic.
"I'm sorry," she says as we pull away. "You’ve given this old woman a lot to think on, and I’m grateful for it. Once all is said and done—" she cups my chin with a gentle hand "—I'll host a big dinner here, for everyone. That includes those vampyrés, the ravens, Jax, and your Adrian. How does that sound?"
I smile as wide as I can. "That would be very nice."
Satisfied with our reconciliation, Gran raps on the door with her knuckles.
"Come in," someone answers from inside.
"Mo asked for you, dear," Gran explains as she opens the door for me. I still before the entrance, surveying the room. It is quite warm inside, and the lights dim. "Go on now, we don't want to let out all that heat."
Shooed inside, the door closes behind me. I am left with Aunt Mo, who sits up in her quilt-strewn bed, and her daughter, Charity, sitting nearby in a chair draped in a technicolor sweater.
"You look worse than when I left you," I say softly.
Aunt Mo chuckles and pats the side of her bed. I shuffle closer, folding down to my knees as I reach her side, and rest my arms on her bedside. My eyes run over her. Her scars cover much of her skin now. Before they were mere accessories, as decreed by Aunt Mo, herself. Now…
My vision blurs.
"Don't go crying over me," Aunt Mo scolds. Her hand folds over mine, the scar tissue ragged and hard, like an angry red welt. Except now, the scars are almost all black.
"Does it hurt very badly?"
"It's manageable."
"How did it get so bad, so quickly?" I ask, my voice just above a whisper.
The Clybourne women exchange solemn expressions, though a touch of pride can't be kept from their clenched jaws and hard blue eyes.
"With you gone, something needed to be done about the crystal. So, I took it upon myself to help mend it. My ability to 'enhance' lacks your finesse, but I haven't done so bad. Charity and I seem to have figured out how to go about it all. It's just taxing on the body, as you can tell." Aunt Mo squeezes my hand once.
"You shouldn't be able to do that," I murmur, head shaking slowly in response. "The magic it calls does not even exist on this plane. Even I cannot mend something so broken."
Aunt Mo's answering smirk turns into a grimace and then a hacking cough. The room dips in temperature, and the hair at the back of my neck stands. I look in fright between Charity and Aunt Mo but receive no response. Charity passes her mother a glass filled with a chunky brown liquid that she gulps down. Soon after, the temperature buoys back to its tepid condition as Aunt Mo relaxes back against the bed's backboard and meager offering of pillows.
"There is magic that works on both our planes," she tells me, her eyelids growing heavy.
"What?" Aunt Mo just smiles, her hand finding its way back to mine. My bottom lip trembles as I turn to Charity instead. "What? Is it blood magic? Zoelle said blood magic is dangerous. Jax said it's dark magic."
"They’re both right, but my mother didn't use blood magic. Do you know what makes witches different from sorcerers, Lunaria?" Charity asks.
I swipe away the lone tear that trickles down my face, nodding. "Witches are born with magic. Sorcerers are gifted by their patron God or Gods."
Charity smiles like her mother, mellow and cool like a spring day. "Exactly. Magic is in our blood, it's part of us, Lunaria. Magic gives us life, and my mother—" Charity's smile wavers. Her words quiver and dip. "She is giving that special, extraordinary part of her magic that gives her life, to the crystal to fix it."
The world stops.
The ache to ask 'why' stalls on the tip of my tongue, replaced all too easily by a flood of tears. There is no use trying to stop them, not when they flow freely down Charity's face as well. The younger Clybourne female stretches her hand across the bed to me, palm up. I place my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together as Charity's captures her mother's blackened left hand.
"I consider it an honor," Aunt Mo announces, her voice hoarse. "The crystal protected us in our time of need. It should return with you just as it came—whole. As for me... well, that damn curse the Stormrow's hit me with the other year was going to take its natural course sooner or later. I couldn't outrun my end forever, and I do hate running.”
For several minutes I rest my face against the patchwork quilt, my tears unrelenting, and my hand unwilling to release her.
"I don't want you to go."
"Well, I'm not particularly happy about leaving either, to tell you the truth. But if I'm to go, I'll do it on my terms."
Aunt Mo squeezes my hand tight. "It's been an honor and a blessing to have known you. I dreamt about fairies when I was a little girl. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd meet one in real life."
I lift my head, sniffling all the while. "It has been a great honor and blessing to have known you too," I hiccup through my response. "The great gift you bestowed upon the crystal should not go unrewarded.” I pause to wipe my face and gain some composure. “On behalf of the Hollow Woods, I thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you, Maureen Clybourne." I slip my hand out from under hers to caress her face with my fingertips. "For your noble deed, I humbly offer the land of the Hollow to be your final resting ground. Take the journey home with my friends and me, and perhaps, one day, you may bloom once more into extraordinary existence."
Aunt Mo's laughter is a breathy affair. Her smile is as brilliant as the dawn. Eyes halfway closed, she regards me with joy. "That would be a dream come true."
"I couldn't agree more," Charity concurs, cheeks glistening.
Chapter 18
My apprehension does not abate as I'm escorted across the land that hugs the edge of Adolphus territory. We scout the line for weak spots, and I’m relieved to find that they are few and far in between.
"Can you hang one between these two trees?" Atticus asks.
I spare the pines a glance. "They're quite far apart," I say. "The adana eire will be stretched very thin. They may not provide the resistance you desire."
"Even a little resistance will go a long way," Xander comments.
The adana eire is a unique flower, even in my realm. They produce several stamens that reach out with silky strands until they find others of their kind to connect to. The end result is very much like a spider's web.
The Wselfwulfs and their allies are lucky the adana eire I place are mere saplings. A mature patch can entangle even the strongest of beasts and starve them to death. The carnivorous flower prefers larger prey, for the decomposing body enriches the soil and provides ample nutrients.
Walking to the closest pine, I envision the mossy green petals of the adana eire and their iridescent stamen. Hands cupped together; I call them into fruition. A sticky pod sprouts from my cupped palms. I press it against the pine's rough bark.
The pod releases with a pinch from my palm, suctioning to the trunk, but my hands remain hovered over the seed. Fingers fanning out; I allow my magic to flow from me like water. Particles of shining blue and silver waft into the air around the small perimeter of my hands.
An unnatural breeze stirs at my feet.
The pod cracks open, and from it emerges floppy, mossy green petals that unfold at a sluggish pace. Once unraveled, its curious stamen probes the air to detect another of its kind.
I move to the other pine and repeat the process. Back and forth, I go between the trees, placing five in a column on each trunk for a wide net.
"Where next?"
Atticus tosses an arm over my shoulders and hugs me into his side. "West."
A growl carries short and meaningful in the air, a warning from my heart’s content that Atticus pretends to ignore. I giggle as the beta squishes me closer into his side before releasing me back to Adrian's care. Atticus tosses a knowing grin our way before he shoves his hands into his coat pockets and ambles on.
"How do you feel?" Adrian hooks an arm around my back to keep me by his side.
"A little tired," I admit, "but it's not worth stopping over."
"The sanail do not seem to tax you as much as the adana eire."
I glance at Adrian in mild surprise. His cheeks and nose are burnished red from his time spent all day outdoors and now well into the evening.
"The sanail are easier to make because there is a similar plant in this realm."
The sanail is a rope-like vine known to be quite temperamental in the Hollow Woods. It thrives in hot, humid, dark environments, growing languidly under and above the ground. In the warm seasons, it is more forgiving to be trod upon. In the cold seasons, it lashes out. Fairies and creatures of all sizes have suffered injuries due to its whip-like reflexes. A rebuke for not minding their path.
The vines on this plane, both thick and thin, and creeping and climbing, had no such ill temperament. They remained complacent while being pulled and stepped on.
"Luna?" Xander and Atticus stop near a thicket of shrubbery whose branches are covered in ice. "Can you plant some of those vines around here? A group of Eldritch witches will be stationed in this area."
"Of course," I chirp.
I call the sanail forth in the same manner as the adana eire. They break through the snow and ice to wind across the ground. A shallow mist accompanies them, only to fade quickly after.
"How much longer will this take?" Adrian inquires as I return to the three men.
"As long as Luna is willing to stay out," Xander replies, his words clouding before him. "We need every advantage."
"I don't mind staying out longer," I instantly respond. Atticus and Xander spare me grateful smiles. Adrian huffs. "I want us to have every advantage too. The Wselfwulf numbers are great and—"
"Pssh." Atticus bumps me gently with his elbow. "Who said they have the numbers?"
I blink back at him as we start to navigate the dense woodland again. "The Wselfwulfs don't just have the Stormrow's helping them, Atticus," I warn. "The night of our escape their allies arrived. They were celebrating as if they had already won."
"Who says we don't have allies?"
I stop in my tracks at Xander's casual announcement. The others follow suit. "You do?” He smirks but says nothing. A nervous flutter takes over my stomach. “Shouldn't they be here by now? The Wselfwulfs could attack any day—at any time! Kimberly Moon told me just the other day."
Xander approaches me, resting a hand atop my shoulder. His evergreen eyes stare into mine, rooting me in place more than his touch. "We reached out to our allies long ago knowing this day would come sooner or later," Xander says smoothly. "Many of them have already sent emissaries. The Wselfwulfs may still outnumber us, but not by much."
"Where are they?"
"They're spread out across town, keeping a low profile. We want the Wselfwulfs to underestimate us."
"Smart," Adrian grunts. The corner of Xander's mouth twitches.
"Thanks. We're keeping a mix of allies and our own spread out along the eastern and southern border. We don't typically receive attacks from those directions because the Clark Fork River acts as a natural barricade. The rest have their instructions. We'll take advantage of the border's weak spots and funnel the Wselfwulfs and their allies into ambushes and traps."
"But they know where the weak spots are too, don't they? They've broken through many times," I point out, hugging my arms over my middle. Adrian presses more firmly into my side, his wordless comfort a balm to the worry creeping up on me.
"They’re aware of the weak spots, but not these traps. If the Wselfwulfs want a fight, they're going to have to cross over and advance through our traps,” Xander declares. "Orders are out; none of ours are to cross into enemy territory. Trust me, Luna, we’re prepared. We’ve been prepared for years. It’s time our feud comes to its head and ends once and for all.”
Atticus gives me a grin. "Not such a bad plan, right? Come on, let's keep going west. There are a few key spots we need to address. After that, we’ll head back home. If we spot any more areas to boobytrap, we'll do it."
Xander produces a map out of his back pocket and waves it at his right-hand man. "We need to mark them if we do. I won't have our own caught up in these."
With everyone on the same page, we continue briskly, a determined air around us. Yet, something lurks outside our quiet company. Something to come...
Something that isn't very nice.
++
We return to the Adolphus manor just shy of midnight. My hands and toes are ice cubes, and even the lycans are chilled after the long walk back to civilization. Our bodies speak of our fatigue and cold, but wary alertness attends us all the same.
"Rest," Xander commands, once we are in the backyard of the manor. Atticus nods and splits from us to return home. The rest of us head inside, feet dragging snowy trails behind us.
"Good night," I say to Xander as Adrian and I pause at the bottom of the staircase.
"Before you go to bed, let me grab you one of the tonic's Zoelle made this evening." Xander's green eyes are vigilant, even after our tireless trek. "I'll just be a minute."
Adrian sweeps me into a hug as soon as he’s out of sight. I gladly sink into the embrace and nuzzle my face against his chest.
"You did well tonight. I am proud of your strength, ov thera," he murmurs into my hair. I smile against his chest and make a humming noise in acknowledgment. "Are you sure you aren't draining yourself? You gave blood the other night and used much magic today."
"The witches made me a special tea while I was with them to restore some of my blood loss and energy," I explain, twisting my head as footsteps near.
"Luna, I want you to know when the time comes, I'll stand by your side. I won't let anything harm you." Adrian proclaims earnestly. I suck in a breath as he meets my widened gaze head on. "Or your friends," he stresses.
My heart and wings give a little flutter. "I thought you said you wouldn't fight?"
"I won't have to if the pack and coven do their job right, will I? I’ve already spoken to your alpha. You'll be stationed at the forest line out back and nowhere near the fighting. The same goes for your friends. I'll be there to look out for all of you."
Xander appears a moment later, rounding the corner from the front room to meet us. He carries a small glass tumbler filled partially with a murky, brown liquid. I grimace as I study it.
"He's right, you won't be anywhere near the fighting." Xander hands me the tonic. "Should danger encroach, plans are in place to get you and your friends to safety."
"Thank you," I reply after a beat. "I'm certain the pack and coven will prevail." I glance at the tonic, grimacing again. "I'll have this right after I brush my teeth."
"Be sure to share it," Xander instructs with a small smirk. Now that every last task is complete, the day's exhaustion shows on Xander. He slouches and runs a hand back and forth over his hair. "I need to send copies of the map out to everyone, so they're aware of where we've laid all your traps. Then I'm headed to bed too. Have a good night's rest, you two."
We trail after him upstairs, splitting ways as we reach our room.
The tonic is as awful as it looks.
++
It's fortunate Adrian and I have kept such early mornings these past few days, for a commotion downstairs wakes us before the sun is up. I rub the sleep from my eyes, my body groggy as I stretch to wake it.
A strange hollowness takes residence in my gut as I turn my questioning frown to Adrian. Loud voices sound from below. Too many to count. Adrian’s face is grim, with stern creases about his eyes and mouth.
"Is it...?" My breath stops short.
He nods briskly and slips from the bed to put on his clothes. I do the same, glancing at the clock. It's ten to four.
We move through our morning routine without pause. Dread hovers between us along with the odd curl of anticipation. At least it's here, I think, no more waiting. Determination quells the strange hollowness which plagued me upon waking. It’s time.
A knock interrupts our noiseless preparation. I answer. Quinn stands outside. Her grave demeanor strikes me hard and makes me stand straighter.
"Good, you're up. Everyone is gathering in the front room. You should go downstairs," Quinn says, her words monotone and gaze somewhat distant. She proceeds to the next room without another word, her gait stiff.
I cast a final glance at Quinn as we leave our room. She's dressed without her usual stylish flair, opting for all black and a slick ponytail. Adrian's fingers slide across my palm and curl around my hand.
His hand squeezes around mine. "Let's go."
Xander's voice registers long before we see him. It carries up to the hallway and grows louder as we descend to the first level. I spy him just short of the last few steps. He stands on a chair shouting instructions to a room full of wolves.
The front door opens, ushering in unfamiliar faces and a cruel wind. The people head straight to the front room without acknowledging us, but my eyes linger on the front door, left cracked open.
"Come on." Adrian tugs me out of my stall. "More are bound to come," he continues, catching where my sight lays. "Better to leave it open."
We enter the front room, joining the mob of people crowding around Xander. Nova is poised near the fireplace, her arms cross over her chest. She’s joined by the raven shifter, Ronan. As if sensing my scrutiny, Ronan finds my eyes across the room. He shoots me a smirk and says something to Nova. The young vampyré raises a hand to us. This time, it is I who guides us.
