Divine and Devour, page 20
The plants in the observatory swayed with their combined magic. The crystals on the table rattled and clattered to the floor. The paper blew in a torrent around them, but Cimmeria ignored it all.
“More,” She demanded and hooked her arms around his neck, holding on as if she were falling. “More, Valen.”
He spun them and hoisted her onto the table. She clenched her thighs around his hips and rubbed against the stiff head of his shaft. Sheets of paper slammed into his back, launching an attack of prose as he gripped her backside.
Valen coasted kisses down her jaw, her neck and bent to her breast. The crystals beneath their feet rose and beat Valen as he moved her neckline to the side. The elements would have pelted her if she wasn’t a soul, but the sheets and gems went right through her form. A few caught Valen across the forehead. He was heedless as he dipped his head for a taste of her soul.
The sound that rumbled from his chest as he savored her nipple caused the inside of her core to clench. He sucked her areola into his mouth and flicked the tip of his tongue up and down the stiff button.
Her hand glided along his stubbled jaw as she arched her back. He repeated the action on her other breast and lifted his head to land another kiss on her lips. Thunder crashed outside, and rain pattered the glass of the observatory walls.
The weather pulled them apart, and they stared at the ceiling as alarm replaced passion. Cimmeria adjusted her gown and smoothed her hair. The paper fluttered to the ground, and the crystals followed. Valen busied himself by cleaning up the room. The weather cleared as if the day had never lent itself to gloom. The plants settled, and the world was as calm as it was when they first greeted.
Cimmeria wanted to throttle the universe, but she remembered why she sought Valen. “I have news.”
Valen straightened after organizing the table. He stared at her perched on the table, hunger lingering in his slate-gray gaze. Valen swiped a thumb over his plump bottom lip and sucked on the digit as his lids drooped. It was the most seductive thing she’d ever seen, and Cimmeria’s auras burst in response.
Cimmeria found her voice and said, “I had a visit from Hesiod Meridian.”
Valen’s playful afterglow exchanged for a serious mien. “A member of the witch council? What did he want?”
Cimmeria adjusted her appearance and recounted, “He’s a miracle witch, and his magic can help us. He said he could restore me to the physical plane. Alive and with a real body.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. The shock froze his speech, and he gawked at her in disbelieving silence.
Valen dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her abdomen and trembled. His voice was muffled as he spoke into her middle. “The witch council found a way to bring us together.”
“Shocked the heck out of me, too.”
He lifted his head and rested his chin on the area of her ribs. “What’s the catch?”
There was always a catch. Magic or no magic, the universe was balanced. To gain this miracle, they had to give an equal offering in return. “Hesiod could die, and we’ll have to continue the ritual as a soul and a living being. We’d be right where we started.”
Valen released her and stood. “We’ll risk it.”
Cimmeria relaxed with relief. “I agree. We planned for the worst already. We can weather that storm when it gets here.”
“We need to go to the witch council and discuss our next steps.”
Cimmeria scooted off the table. “Will your parents be all right without us?”
“I’ll go inform my mother of what we know, and then we’ll go. My parents will be fine. My father is more active, and the herbs are helping. We can be gone for a few hours.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
Valen dashed from the room, and she gazed up at the glass ceiling. They had a chance to be together in every way. She would be lying if she ignored her terror. Returning to the living was not going to be pleasant, but the reward was worth it. She could finally be with Valen. The sweet notion brought her immediate release from her apprehension. Everything they wanted and pleaded for was a miracle away.
They had to be strong enough to reach for it.
Cimmeria sat on a small cushioned bench in front of the witch council. They had been received immediately upon arrival and were in discussion about the miracle.
Artaria Veritas clasped her hands in her lap and delivered the good tidings. “Hesiod volunteered to be of assistance, and we debated the pros and cons. We decided his magic was the best option to assist you in your situation. No heart song should be made to suffer as you have. We’re here to help bring the two of you together. As with all cures, the side effects are often more pervasive than the disease. Hesiod’s magic comes with great risk.”
Hesiod leaned forward and supported his elbows on his knees. “My magic has a peculiar designation. It manifests once every seven years and in such greatness that I’m not sure if I’ll survive it or not. The upside of this deal is miracles take place. Miracles like bringing the dead back to life in all ways. In ways that even omni-grims cannot fathom. We want to be safe when conducting the impossible. I have asked the only omni-grim in Libra to assist us during the miracle. He will also be present at the ceremony in case we need backup. When dealing with the dead, it’s best to have an expert.”
Cimmeria felt her entire soul react as Noble prowled from the shadows. As he approached, a transparent skull lay over his features as if magic had stripped him down to the bone. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, trying to determine if it was a trick of the light. His copper face was present, but that grinning skull was there too.
Noble spun on his heel, and the flaps of his red jacket flared like butterfly wings. He halted and spread his arms as if to encompass the room in his eager declaration. “I haven’t been this excited in months! We’ve solved your case, heart songs. Isn’t it exciting?”
Cimmeria lifted her hand to her mouth and chuckled. Noble was the most ridiculous friend she ever had, and she was glad he was going to be present for the miracle.
“All of the witches behind me are quaking with terror, even that dumb red one, Magma Bane,” His tone was gravelly and dark as he leaned toward Cimmeria, but she detected the humor underneath.
“I’m happy you are joining us, Noble,” Cimmeria greeted, but behind her, she heard Valen groan.
Noble’s lips warped into an elegant grin. “We’re going to have fun, First Witch. This will be the event of a lifetime!”
“How exactly are you going to give her a new body?” Valen interjected, and she was glad he did because the question had been buzzing inside her head since Hesiod delivered his message.
Hesiod glanced at Noble. “You remember this is a secret, right?”
“Who would I tell? Xephriel, Amé, Morty, Cimmeria, and Valen are my only friends. They already know what’s going on, so what’s the point in blabbing?”
“All right, then,” Hesiod cleared his throat. “We cannot revive you at the exact time of your death. Witches cannot alter time. A specific ritual will have to be organized for the miracle to occur, and you’ll be molded as an adult version of yourself, but your age will be ambiguous.”
“I’m following,” Cimmeria responded to let Hesiod know she was listening.
Hesiod gestured with his hands while he explained, “We have to pass through the etheric field into the disorder of the universe. I will harness the primordial essence of the universe to build you a brand-new body. Well, it’s almost brand new. We are going to use your bones as a foundation.”
“Nothing physical can pass through the etheric field,” Cimmeria argued.
Hesiod smirked. “Not true. Certain witches have magic that protects their bodies when they travel between realms.”
A nervous tickle started inside her being. Cimmeria flicked the end of her hair as she listened. “Okay. We get my bones, we harness the raw elements of the universe, and form a new body for me. Sounds easy enough.”
Hesiod’s laugh shot from his throat. “I wish it were that easy. First, we have to assess your bones and repair them. Noble will go with you to the catacomb and retrieve your remains. Flora will be in charge of the healing process. Flora will be in the chamber with us during the ritual in case you need further healing when your body is remade. Once we are ready to recreate your body, we will have to address the larger issue. How to unravel you from the heavens.”
“I thought you said you would do that first,” Cimmeria pointed out.
Hesiod’s features were a somber affair. “I’m afraid I still don’t know how to do that last part. Undoing Khaos’ magic is more tricky than I anticipated.”
“What will happen when I’m restored and the connection to the stars is not severed?”
“We don’t know. It’s a risk we decided to take,” Hesiod clasped his hands on his lap. “We will prepare for the fall-out and act when the time comes.”
Artaria stated, “The other council members will be on standby to bring our magic into play if this goes poorly. We are reviewing how the etheric field was repaired the last time it was torn from magic convergence. It was a very small tear and resulted in the haunted classroom in the academy, but it was taken care of without too much damage. A larger rupture will likely occur this time, but we’re taking steps to ensure the safety of the physical world.”
“What should we do in the meantime?” Cimmeria asked.
Hesiod said, “The spring equinox is in a week, and there is a full moon. The conditions for the ritual are favorable. I’ve checked the charts, and there’s a planetary alignment. The seven first witch constellations will be brightest when the planets are in line with the world egg. I’ll be researching how to enact the miracle until then.”
“Seems like a huge coincidence that everything happens to work out in favor of this miracle,” Noble mumbled.
Hesiod quirked a grin at Noble’s snide remark. “The environment can be exact, the magic stable and favorable, with all the celestial elements in order, but it doesn’t guarantee success. Nothing is ever certain. When magic and free will are thrown into play, you can expect the conclusion to be a hard-won battle. Don’t be fooled by the happy circumstances.”
“Fair enough,” Noble conceded.
“The heart song is more insistent every day,” Valen argued.
“You’ll have to wait. It’s the best advice I can give at the moment.”
“Great,” Valen mumbled.
Noble took advantage of the lull in conversation and announced, “I have things to do. Digging through the trash. Harassing Chief Hendrix. Consulting Morty on which case would be better, a missing person or a murder most foul. The usual. I’ll be in my humble abode should you need me.” Noble rattled off his list as if he were grocery shopping on Market Street. The council was appalled, except Artaria, who waved him off with mild amusement.
Noble bowed his flare for the dramatic not diminished by the authority of the witch council. He spun on his toes like a dancer and departed the chamber.
Cimmeria watched the omni-grim leave and then shifted her interest to Hesiod. “I don’t understand why removing me from the stars is so complicated,” Cimmeria pinched the bridge of her nose and growled in frustration. “Khaos charted our fates together and—wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.”
“We’re waiting,” Valen tried humor to alleviate her distress, but it caused her to cast him a disapproving glare.
Cimmeria raised her hands, palms out, and analyzed the niggling in her mind.
“Nobody make a sound!” She shouted and paced.
Valen snapped his fingers and started to catch on. “Fate.”
She didn’t respond because her mind was in a gale of possibilities. Fate was the balance of free will. Certain points in the grand scheme of things were set in stone, and not even Khaos could change them. If anything, he probably placed them so he couldn’t alter the course. Perhaps even Khaos had fate. Prophecy was realized fate. It sanctioned a course of events that had to take place. Even if free will zig-zagged on the path, it would lead to the point that was meant to be.
“The wheel that rotates will find the path it intends to go. The wheel that refuses to budge is the fate that is sealed. When free will is chained, and magic is lost, that is when you must seek a miracle.” She and Valen reiterated together.
Cimmeria tapped her fist against her palm as she remembered Agape’s words. They were in the thick of the prophecy. The piece that was missing was the rotating wheel. What did that mean?
The wheel of her ship constellation?
Navigating?
Valen crossed his arms and interpreted, “The wheel of fortune in the tarot deck defines destiny, cycles, and a turning point. It’s often used to define an act of the divine. When paired with the fate, movement, or rhythm rune, it can mean an alteration of fate. A defining moment that cannot be predicted. Didn’t my mother prophesize that free will was important?”
“Yes.” Cimmeria stayed in motion as she dissected the decree of Khaos. “We have to keep moving without any guidance or direction. Free will brings about our fate. The randomness is what will ultimately lead us to answers. Whatever happens from this point on is part of the grand finale. I’m sure of it.”
“It sounds as if the path is clear. If the council discovers an answer, we will message you. Good luck. Hesiod will be in touch when it is time to gather your bones, First Witch,” Artaria informed them and inclined her chin in dismissal.
Cimmeria rose from her seat and gave the council one last glimpse over her shoulder. She departed the chamber with her heart song.
Free will and fate rolled around in her mind. One moved without conscious deliberation, and the other was inevitable. For Khaos might rule everything, but even he had to bow to order. For every action, there was an opposite reaction. Khaos bound Valen and Cimmeria together, and the embodiment of the universe did not make mistakes.
At least, Cimmeria hoped he didn’t.
Chapter 16
“Finally, a solution has been uncovered,” Valen remarked as they neared Divination Street.
Cimmeria swung their linked hands. “Imagine how much sooner we would have arrived at this conclusion if you would have listened to me thirty years ago.”
Valen released his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her close. “Khaos is on my side. He wanted me to loiter until the time was right.”
“Hmph,” She grumbled, “I don’t think that’s the right interpretation of your mother’s prophecy.”
Valen dipped to brush his lips over Cimmeria’s pressed mouth. “We don’t have to worry about the past. We have a better future, and it’s going to be amazing.”
“We can finally complete the heart song ritual.”
Valen slid his hands up and down her hips and squeezed her backside. “We can practice for when you have your body restored.”
Cimmeria’s lashes drooped as she purred, “If you play your cards right, perhaps we can make that happen.”
“Yes.” He was eager to do more with Cimmeria. Being with his heart song was extraordinary. He didn’t have to hold back anymore.
She laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She ran her fingers along his jacket collar and teased, “I’m not sure I can feel your eagerness.”
“Shall I get on my knees?”
Her response was tart. “I’d like to see what you can do on your knees.”
He bent over to croon in her ear. “I can make you explode into dust and magic. Again. And again. And again, my heart song.”
A quiver went through her spirit form, and she lifted her face. He couldn’t resist. Valen brushed a kiss over her lips and fed his magic into the connection. She gripped his jacket and shoved him into a building. He smacked his back against the brick and drew her closer. Their lips parted, and when their tongues met, Valen surged with magic.
He cupped her backside and lifted her to rub over the erection swelling in his pants. The call of the heart song blared in his being to unite in all ways. The air crackled around them, and the noise of the bond overtook his senses. There was no harmony here, only the clanging of desire.
“Have a care for those of us walking,” A male voice interrupted their interlude.
Valen broke the kiss and watched the witch who had brought attention to their lover’s tryst. He had to be a witch because no one else could view Cimmeria. It might look odd that he was mauling the air, but most people were used to the peculiarities that arose in Libra.
“We were leaving,” Valen said to the witch and discreetly placed himself in front of Cimmeria.
“Afraid we aren’t,” The witch shrugged and swiped a thumb over his lip. “Boss says you gotta come in, so I’m charged with bringing you or else. For the record, I don’t like ‘or else’ when it comes from the Taxidermist.”
“Khaos, is he trying to kidnap us?” Cimmeria complained, but a hint of fear tainted her remark.
Valen hadn’t informed her of the fight he had with the thugs. They’d been too caught up with the witch council for him to mention the earlier encounter. It seemed he was about to have another problem with the minions of Blood Street, but this time with a corrupted witch. A soul or bone witch if he had a full view of Cimmeria.
“I’m not asking,” The witch threatened.
Valen pursed his lips to whistle for reinforcements, but the witch raised his hand, and Cimmeria shrieked. He watched as magic secured her arms to her sides. Her mouth was sealed shut. When Valen grabbed for her, she was barricaded by a magic shield.
Shit. Soul witch.
Valen snarled at the witch. “Release her.”
“No.” Closing his fist and yanking, the witch brought Cimmeria to his side and gripped her by the neck. “I can’t kill a soul like an omni-grim, but I can make her wish for it. Come to Blood Street, don’t try anything to free her or escape, and I’ll consider mercy.”
Valen looked at Cimmeria, her eyes full of fight, but he knew the Taxidermist had them this time. A soul witch, especially a corrupted one, was bad news.
