Witherstone- Wings of My Legion Page 2

  “Awe,” I grinned. “I’m happy for them.”

  “Me too. And I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you about something,” she said. “We can go over it tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I told. After we said goodbye, I got up and turned the lights off and started my movie. And about halfway through, immersed in too many pillows, with a belly full of warm chocolatey pastry bites, I began to fall asleep. Laying there in the stillness, I felt a breeze cross over my bare feet, sending shivers up the back of my neck. When I peeked out to see if the window was open again, there he stood.

  “Elliot?” I whispered. I tried to focus on him as he walked closer to me, but my eyes were heavy. I leaned up on my elbow as he came within a foot from my reach. His chilling scent filled my nostrils and drove a churning deep in my soul. “How are you here?” I sat up. The man sat to my side and stared deep into my eyes with a slow grin. He pulled my hair to the side and then kissed my cheek. It was here that I decided he wasn’t real. Something about him seemed dreamy, faraway even. And that was fine. Watching his eyes watch me, I took hold of his collar and pulled him to my lips.

  My sister and I had just found an empty table by the window when Scarlet came through the door. I went straight over and hugged her, and I realized I hadn’t seen her since leaving for Skye Sorn.

  “I shouldn’t have waited so long to call you,” I apologized.

  “No, you’ve been through so much,” she shook her head. “I was happy to know you came home safely. That’s all.”

  “Thank you, for everything,” I told her. “Now, I am starving.”

  “I thought you just had an omelet?” my sister poised.

  “Well,” I rolled my eyes. “It isn’t like I’m counting calories.”

  “I’m hungry, too,” Scarlet said. “I’ve been studying this book that Lucas and I found in our mother’s old things.”

  “I thought your dad locked that stuff away,” Charlotte acknowledged as we made our way toward the counter.

  Scarlet paused our discussion to order her veggie on a sun-dried tomato wrap. While I ordered two chicken salad paninis for Charlotte and me, the others kept talking. “He said I should see if I want anything before I head off to college,” Scarlet told.

  “Boston University?” I guessed. My friend nodded. We took our baskets of food to the table and sat down. “It seems so far.”

  “I know,” Scarlet agreed as she lifted her wrap to her lips for a bite. Talking through the food, she then said, “Oh, the book!” She pulled her phone from her pocket and showed Charlotte and me some strange symbols from the pages of her book.

  “It’s Lavaethos,” my sister gasped, taking the phone right out of Scarlet’s hands. “I’ve never seen this anywhere else besides my house. In mom’s and Aunt Cressa’s grimoires.”

  I drew in a breath. I didn’t want to get into talking about our mother, but I had never really read her grimoire. Not only was it difficult to hold something of hers in my hands, but it was also filled with the same symbols of Scarlet’s new find. I had no idea how to read them. “Can you read this stuff?” I asked Charlotte just before taking a bite of my sandwich.

  “I’ve been studying the language for a while. Ever since I learned about you,” she revealed. Her words got softer the more she spoke. “I knew there was more to the world. Those old books couldn’t have all been fiction.”

  “Is it hard to read?” I asked as Scarlet went to get napkins. “I bet Aunt Cressa knows it well.”

  “Yeah, she’s been teaching me,” Charlotte studied the images. “I can’t translate the words too well, but I can read them. There’s a system to pronouncing the vowels. It’s not hard once you learn the rules.”

  “Why do you think your mom had this book?” I asked Scarlet as she rejoined us. She wiped her fingertips and then leaned forward. “The inside cover has the name L. V. Gould written as a signature, along with those symbols.”

  “Scarlet, do you know what this is?” my sister asked. Scarlet shook her head. “It’s the language of the enchanted.”

  “Like, witches?” she whispered with wide eyes. My sister nodded. “But my family has always been mortal. At least I think they have.” We all kept eating as we thought about the book. “Our only accomplishment is founding Goulden Pines.”

  “If the bloodline is thinned out by mortals, then you might not ever know your true nature,” Charlotte informed us. “Whose book was it?”

  “I’m pretty sure it belonged to my great-grandfather, Linden Valor Gould,” she revealed.

  “This was your mother’s relative?” my sister asked.

  Scarlet nodded.

  “Well, he might have just found the book, or maybe gotten it as a gift.”

  “Something like this?” I shook the phone toward them both. “Books like these aren’t given away. They’re handed down.”

  “Are you saying I have ties to enchanters?” Scarlet exhaled. “That’s crazy.”

  “Things have been crazier,” I rolled my eyes to the window and suddenly caught sight of Elliot. I jerked forward, nearly choking on my crust, to blink the image into clarity.

  “What is it?” Charlotte leaned up, too.

  I studied the street for a moment, to find him again, but he was gone. “I thought I saw someone.”

  GREYHART

  “Meet me at home,” my sister had texted me early on Sunday morning. Almost a full month had gone by since I moved into the apartment. I sent my sister, “Be there in an hour,” and got dressed. The day was full of sun, and the sky hadn’t been so blue since the day at the cabin. Standing in front of the mirror as I pinned back my bangs, I remembered that day. Lorcan’s demeanor, Iliana’s begging… Cole. I hit the brush on the counter and exhaled. Looking back at myself, I noticed the frustration in my eyes. And why? Cole was off doing what he had to so that our journey to Isle Lore would be successful. He didn’t need to come visit. And he didn’t need to call.

  Pulling into the driveway at my house—my old house—I noticed Erik’s car parked toward the back. Maybe that meant things were starting to move forward. Maybe we’d be leaving soon, and I would see everyone again. Everyone. I turned off my car and rushed to the front door with my shoulder bag hitting my hips. I shoved open the door. “Aunt Cressa?” I called with a smile, quickly wishing I hadn’t just barged in. “Oh, my gosh,” I turned as I blushed. Sitting on the couch was Erik—with his hands all over my aunt. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Nonsense!” my aunt jumped up as she fixed the buttons on her blouse. “This is still your home.”

  “But I should’ve knocked,” I said fast as I stood there with the door awkwardly placed between me and the sight of Erik.

  “If your brother can show up here at eleven at night and eat an entire roasted chicken, then you’re welcome to come in whenever you please,” my aunt smiled. She pulled me inside and closed the door.

  “Hello, Irene,” Erik stood from the couch and smiled. The little dip of his head that he did every time he addressed me was sweet. I stood there, tugging my hands up into my sleeves until the man left the room. My aunt had gone into the kitchen for a moment. When she returned, she had two glasses of tea.

  “Oh, no thanks,” I told her. “I’m not feeling too well lately.”

  “Then you should drink it,” she insisted. “You’ll start to feel worse if you don’t at least get your fluids. I gave a nod and took the glass. Together we sat on the couch.

  “Charlotte wanted me to come over.”

  “She and I have something planned for you,” my aunt smiled. “She was with Caleb this morning, waiting for Erik to get here.”

  “I took the long route,” the man smiled. “Show her what I brought,” he suggested, his eyes shooting to the little table behind my aunt.

  “Oh, yes,” she stood quick. My aunt lifted a little clear bag into the light of the sun. “He brought me some herbs, some crystals, and this,” she faced me, thumbing over a bracelet made of twine. I instinctively backed int
o the cushion. “No, no, it isn’t hawthorn. It’s rowan, a gift from the elves.”

  “The elves?” I wondered aloud, just as fast as my brain could think it.

  “To be fair,” Erik spoke as he reentered the room, “it’s from Mirabel.”

  “Is she here, too?” I faced Erik with relaxed shoulders. He shook his head. After a breath out, I spoke, “Tell her I said thanks.”

  “Of course,” the man smiled.

  My aunt sat beside me with the bracelet in hand. I took a closer look. The only hawthorn I knew of came from Iliana. Her twine was grayish and dull. It was splintered, too, which left a nasty papercut-like rash on my skin for hours after removal. This twine, however, was a lively light brown. The band itself was smooth and pliable, and much thicker than the stringiness of hawthorn. With a little silver clasp and a silver leaf charm, the bracelet was reasonably discreet.

  “What will it do?” I questioned before touching the piece.

  “It is related to hawthorn, this you must know,” Erik advised. He sat beside my aunt on the arm of the couch. Leaning down to take hold of the bracelet, his eyes scanned the clasp. “It will not weaken you, though; it isn’t a sacred faerie plant.” I took in his words as I, too, scanned the bracelet. “It will strengthen your spirit and provide protection from darkness.” That sounds good. “But if you wear it alongside hawthorn, the hawthorn will be magnified. This is the only drawback.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. I shifted my eyes to him and then my aunt. Still a little apprehensive, I took hold of the bracelet slowly and with only the tips of my fingers. Without feeling any side effects, I cradled the item in my palm. “It’s light,” I remarked. “I like it.”

  “Mirabel made it for your travels,” Erik said. “For all your travels.” I smiled. The front door opened and in came Charlotte.

  “Good, I have something to tell you,” she shut the door and walked in front of me. As she tugged off her red, zip-up jacket and threw it onto the side chair, she revealed, “I might be able to use the charts in the Galdorvore to help Dylan.”

  “Charts in the what?” I leaned forward as my aunt secured the bracelet around my wrist.

  “The book that Scarlet found,” my sister rolled her eyes. She continued to speak, quick words sand stammered breaths, as though she couldn’t keep up with her thoughts. “It’s like an encyclopedia of… everything,” she finished with a big inhale. “There’re translations and explanations,” her eyes hit my aunt with a grin. This was when I noticed Erik sitting rigid, his eyes dull, his skin pale. I studied him long enough to draw my aunt’s attention from Charlotte.

  “Erik?” my aunt shook his hand. “What is it?”

  It took a few seconds for the color to return to his eyes. “The Galdorvore?” he mumbled. Charlotte nodded.

  “Do you know about it?” she asked him.

  Answering slowly, Erik’s lip seemed to quiver. “Uh, yes,” he tightened his jaw for a swallow. Then, without another word, the man stood, rubbed at his mouth, and then left the room.

  “I know it’s valuable,” Charlotte crossed her legs. “But is there more?”

  “How did you all learn about this book?” our aunt asked as her eyes narrowed.

  “Scarlet found the book in her mother’s things. It has her great-grandfather’s initials inside,” I explained.

  Our aunt leaned over and crossed her arms as she appeared to be lost in thought. “I’ve never felt magic on them, not Scarlet, not Lucas.”

  “As far as she knows, she’s mortal,” I agreed.

  “You thought you were mortal at one time,” my sister added. She couldn’t have been more right. Less than a year ago, I had no idea of my dragon heritage, or that faeries and enchanters were real. All the realms and the magic that went on around me were difficult to comprehend. Scarlet, even though she seemed perfectly plain—in the best of ways—might have been a descendent of someone supernatural. The idea was bittersweet. She and Lucas could be capable of great and wonderful, magical things. But to not know who you are is a frightening realization, magnified by the events that follow while trying to understand your new nature. I would never wish for someone to have to experience the things I have. Even though there is beauty along the way.

  Our aunt pressed her lips together before speaking. “The Galdorvore is the sacred text of the Greyharts.”

  “Who?” Charlotte pressed.

  Our aunt tilted her head, as if she was readying to tell a long story, but then stood quick and went to the bookshelf. She rummaged through the titles until she found what she was looking for. “Yes, this one,” she said to herself. Rejoining us on the couch, she flipped through the book until she came across a page with an emblem in the center. “This is the mark of a Greyhart, an enchanted being who has renounced their magic.”

  “Renounced? Why would anyone want that?” Charlotte begged an answer.

  “Sometimes,” our aunt searched for the right words, “magic isn’t a blessing. Sometimes it’s a curse.”

  “Can we renounce?” I blurted. The thought of Elliot fearing his darkness to the point of letting it all go was a scary thing to idealize.

  My aunt, thankfully, had the answer I wanted. “Not you, not Elliot, not Dylan. You, however,” she faced Charlotte, “could renounce your enchantress magic.”

  “And then I’d be a Greyhart?” Charlotte wondered. I could see her contemplating the whole thing as her eyes glazed over. “I wouldn’t be the same,” she muttered.

  “No, and that’s why you aren’t one of them,” our aunt told. Leaning over to extend her hand to my sister, the two held hands for a moment and then laughed.

  “Did I miss something?” I asked.

  My aunt faced me as a shimmer crossed her eyes. She reached out her hand and took mine, and I had a sudden vision. But it wasn’t my magic that caused the illusion. It was hers. In a field full of wildflowers, we three were running toward a creek. The air was warm and smelled sweet. I had an instant sensation of happiness, that all the troubles in the world were gone. And when the vision dissipated, I realized we three were sitting there laughing.

  I took a deep breath. “What was that about?”

  My aunt shrugged with a smile. “Just a little something I designed to help me feel good when times are bad.”

  “I like it,” I smiled.

  “This is why we aren’t Greyharts,” my aunt faced Charlotte. “We are meant to embrace our nature. To be one with it, to allow it deep into our bones. But some beings aren’t so lucky. Some fear their magic; some are made to let it go.”

  “That sounds awful,” I chimed.

  Standing in the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, Erik explained more about the mysterious Greyharts. “Without the ability to use magic, these people are tasked with carrying on knowledge from one generation to the next.” Folding his arms tight, Erik’s eyes traveled to the floor in thought. “The symbols of their language, one you know well,” he glanced to my aunt with a smile, “must be passed on or they’ll be forgotten.”

  “Why do the Greyharts handle these books?” Charlotte went over to the bookshelves and took our mother’s grimoire in hand. “My mom wrote with the same language all the time.”

  “A Greyhart, if he or she still wants to be included in the coven, will contribute by teaching and advising.” Erik took a deep breath. “At that point, they have nothing else to offer.”

  “That’s sad,” I shook my head.

  “To hold on to something you purposely tried to end?” Charlotte’s eyes had sharpened at the idea. “It isn’t right.”

  “What they choose, or what they’re forced to do,” Erik clarified, “isn’t something we can judge. I want you to know, though, that what they’ve experienced, what they must sacrifice during the renouncement… it is nothing short of pure terror.”

  I turned to the edge of my seat and could feel my shoulders tighten. As much as I didn’t want to know, I needed more answers. “How do they renounce?” I asked Erik.


  With a steep inhale, the man grinned, “Another time, Irene.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  Erik looked up to me from beneath his brow. “Have I experienced it? Yes,” he nodded. “My late wife, years ago, had worked alongside the Greyhart Society. She helped to translate their pages, to spread the text. But it wasn’t enough.” The man leaned up and drew in a breath as his eyes seemed to reflect the sunlight from the window. “She renounced her own magic to join them permanently. She never recovered.”

  “I’m sorry,” I spoke. I never even knew he was married at one time. And it sounded like he loved her a lot.

  “Does renouncing alter the bloodline?” my sister asked. Erik nodded. This explained why Scarlet’s great-grandfather would be the owner of a magical book, but then have no magical abilities in her lineage. It was possible that Linden Gould was an enchanter, and that he renounced his magic for a reason more significant than I could imagine.

  “How do we tell her?” my sister asked me. I just shook my head.

  My aunt, on the other hand, was eager to move our conversation right along. “Well, let’s get ready,” she beamed. Standing and gathering her little bags of herbs and gems, my aunt kept speaking. “We need to cleanse and prep. There’re new candles on the table, Char. And Irene,” she faced me, “I want you to go find something that you know Elliot had held in his hands.”

  I just stood there with a blank face. “What are we doing?”

  “We’re going to send you to your Lord,” simply put. With all of us here, we should accomplish it with ease.”

  Sitting on the grass in the backyard, Charlotte, our aunt, Erik, and I formed the sacred space. Thankfully the breeze was light; nothing wild enough to carry the sprinkled herbs from the circle. My aunt had placed a new, unused white candle in front of each of us. In the center sat a tall and thick, dark blue candle. She lit them in succession, lighting the dark blue last. I lifted my necklace from under my hair and pulled it up over my head. I held it tight now as I sat there watching my aunt and sister work. Drawing from Erik and I, my sister and aunt closed their eyes and chanted together. I had high hopes of this spell. Charlotte had tried to help me see him. And I did get to, but it was short-lived. I was begging mother nature to give me enough strength to speak to Elliot this time. Even if it only meant a few words.