“They were getting serious, and we all know she’s not his mate. If he’d found his mate and he and Bree were still together, she would have gotten her heart broken.”
“I guess.” Alex looks up at the cloudless blue sky. “I just hate to see him in so much pain. He really loves her.”
“De heart is a strange t’ing.” Aleric rests his chin on the top of my head. “It will always find wha’ it’s lookin’ for, even in de middle of de worst pain it’s ever felt.”
Alex smiles softly. “Like you found Saidie in the hell you were in?”
“Oui, chèr, like I found ma petite sorcière de la mort, my little death witch.”
Alex frowns. “I’m not sure if that’s an endearment or not.”
“It is.” I laugh. “He just has a weird sense of humor.”
“Where’s Luka?” Aleric asks.
“He went for a run.”
That’s Alex’s way of saying the beast Luka was cursed with needed to get out and hunt. He’s never let any of us see it when he transforms, not even Alex, but I’m betting that’s a good thing. Luka’s scary enough in human form. I’d hate to see him in full monster mode.
“Everybody else?”
“Conner’s stuffing his face in the kitchen, and Alesha and Sabien are on the phone with their contacts looking for a solution to the water zombies. Jason’s in his room. I checked on him, but he said he wanted to be alone.”
“Is dere any news on de girl?” Aleric shifts, and my body automatically shifts with his. It’s like we’re in tune with each other, two halves of the same whole.
“No. Her boyfriend is pretty much out of it too. They have some kind of weird bond where he feels everything she does, and when she’s hurt, he gets the same injury. Maybe not physically, but he still feels it, and that’s just as bad, according to Uncle Sabien. Metaphysical wounds can be more dangerous than physical ones.”
“And I thought our group was weird. We got nothing on these guys.”
“Demons.” Alex shakes her head. “I never thought I’d be dealing with demons. I think you’re right. These people are weirder than us.”
“Did you see that sword her boyfriend pulled?” I still can’t get it out of my head. It shined brighter than any light I’ve ever seen.
“It is one of four holy swords,” Aleric tells us. “Wit’ all de talk about judging, I t’ink it’s de Sword of Trut’. Only a warrior anointed by an Arch Angel can wield dem. Madame spent her life tryin’ to find one of de warriors so she cou’ steal a sword.”
“Why was everyone so worried about the sword, though?”
“De Sword of Trut’, it judges dose it touches. If you are found wit’out guilt, you are safe. If dere be som’tin you regret or feel guilty for, den you are judged and cleansed.”
“Cleansed?” That doesn’t sound so bad.
“You die by de sword so it can cleanse your soul of guilt and regret.”
“That’s harsh.”
I agree with Alex. Harsh doesn’t seem the right word, though. It’s downright unfair. I feel remorse over stepping on a bug. Would it find me unworthy for killing the bug even though it bit me?
“The Swords are harsh,” Aleric says. “Dey have to be, as tools of de holy fait’.”
This is why I never really got much into religion. It’s all so…so…I don’t even have a word for it, but I know it’s not something I want to deal with. I’d rather just be me and not worry about anything else.
Time to change the subject.
“So, what do you think Conner meant when he said if we leave, then Emma dies?” Sometimes his visions are cryptic, while at other times they are specific. Last night’s was in between those descriptors.
“Emma has to be in the house guarded by all the dead. If we leave, then they won’t be able to breach the island before it’s too late,” Alex says thoughtfully. “I mean, even if Mr. Crane could find a way to break the spell causing them to obey only Kristoff, those things are still dangerous.”
“Dey are deadly.”
“And if they can’t get to the house, then Emma dies.” It has to be what Conner meant. It’s the only thing that makes sense, really.
“Which is why I think Bree leaving was selfish.” Alex gets this fierce look in her eyes, making the blue glow with that odd color no one can really define. “She’s the second most knowledgeable witch among us and could have helped Alesha more than me or Jason, whose magic only just woke up. Leaving means not caring if Emma lives or dies.”
“You have to remember that’s not how she was raised, Alex. Bree grew up in one of the magical families, taught only to care about the people who matter to them. A stranger means nothing to her.”
“I was a stranger to her.”
“Not really,” I disagree. “The Blackburnes were friends with the Winters family. Bree’s grandfather and your mom are really good friends so, to her, you were someone important because your family and hers are allies.”
Alex shakes her head stubbornly. “It’s still not right.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the situation we have now, so we have to deal with it.”
Her shoulders slump. Like I said, she’s the sweetest, kindest person I know, and Bree walking away hurt her. She counts on Bree to be there like she does me, and this is her first taste of what being part of one of the main magical families really means. I get that she doesn’t like it one damn bit, but I think it’s good for her. She needs to see that people, even her friends, can disappoint her. Hopefully, she’ll forgive Bree.
“All right, let’s go roust Conner out of the kitchen and find your mom. Maybe they’ve found something.”
As we go back inside and leave the room, I cross my fingers, hoping Alesha and Sabien found a way to remove the spell from the crawlers, because if not, things are going to get a little more dangerous.
Emma Rose
Fulsome Sanitarium, MO
“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Mathilda who lived in a castle made of chocolate chip cookies upon a hill of fudge. Marshmallow clouds graced stunning blue skies and the rivers ran with blue Kool-Aid.”
My mama’s blue eyes are bright and glassy, but she smiles at me in the mirror as she brushes my hair.
“She ate cake and ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, right, Mama?”
“Yes, baby girl. She even had cherries and sprinkles sometimes too.”
I giggle and rest my head in my palms. My mama tells the best stories.
The brush glides through my hair. She always does one hundred brush strokes. It makes it all shiny like Mama’s. She doesn’t do it a lot, so I always love it when she does.
“One day, the princess was in her room drawing pictures of unicorns and puppies when she heard a strange sound. Curious, she left her room and followed the noise outside, careful to not fall off the drawbridge and into the moat of strawberry pudding.”
Another giggle escapes. Strawberry pudding. Yuck!
“She went into the gumdrop forest where the trees were made of candy cane bark and giant green sprinkles for the leaves. Deeper and deeper into the forest she walked, until she became tired and stopped to drink from the Kool-Aid river. It was then she saw it.”