Veiled By Smoke, page 18
She stepped lightly into the foyer, boots clicking on black-and-white tiles. The early morning sunlight filtered through the high windows, painting rainbows across the dust motes. Penny lifted her voice, bright and sure. “Cordelia? I’m home!”
The hush of the house broke as footsteps echoed on the staircase. Cordelia appeared at the landing, her russet hair pulled back, a robe cinched tight around her waist. Her eyes were shrewd and kind, face marked by both laughter and wariness.
Cordelia’s gaze swept over Penny, then narrowed as she landed on Ra. “I’m impressed,” she said, voice even. “You don’t usually do early, and you certainly don’t travel with elementalists with demon eyes.”
Penny smiled, stepping forward, her hands open in a peaceable gesture. “This is Ra. He’s a fire elementalist, one of the soul-bonded, actually.” She kept her voice light, but there was purpose behind every syllable. “He’s here because we need to talk. About Aurora.”
Cordelia’s expression shifted–less surprise, more calculation. She nodded, descending the last few stairs. “Let’s speak in the front room. I’ll make tea.”
Ra moved behind Penny, his presence, no doubt, a wall of heat and tension. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, not when the weight of his mission pressed so heavily on his chest. The three of them settled in a parlor filled with velvet and old books, the air scented with lemon and sage. Cordelia busied herself with the teapot.
Penny and Cordelia began to speak in low tones, their words weaving in and out of each other. As they sipped their tea, they spoke of Aurora’s uniqueness, her sensitivity, and the fact that she was already drawn to Blackhorn and to magic. Ra watched the steam curl from his mug, his mind buzzing, his skin prickling with warning. Something was off, he could sense it, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His head felt tight–not a headache, yet, but it was getting there.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He set his cup down with a soft thud. “We need to see the girl,” he said, his voice gruff, but urgent. “Soon. She’s not safe until she understands what’s coming. Let us talk to her, explain what she is, what this world means. She needs to trust us before someone else gets to her first.”
Cordelia regarded him, her eyes sharp, weighing, as if she could see the fire in his blood—and maybe the shadows, too. “You’re certain?” He could see the suspicion in her eyes, she didn’t trust him, and rightfully so.
“I’m certain,” Ra ground out, fighting the urge to pace. The evil presence that had been stalking his dreams now pressed at the edges of his mind–a cold, oily hunger he couldn’t shake. His body suddenly froze, still as stone as he felt the distant call of Ramses, coiling like smoke through his thoughts. What on earth did his ancestor want? And why was he reaching out at this time? It couldn’t be a coincidence. Ra didn’t believe in them.
Cordelia hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll call Fern. Tell her Aurora’s invited, say we want her to meet another of the coven sisters, that she’s shown such interest in Blackhorn. I’ll ask if they can come by for lunch.”
Penny caught Ra’s gaze, worry and encouragement mingling on her face. “We’ll be ready,” she said softly.
Cordelia left the room, her cell phone already pressed to her ear.
The moment the parlor door clicked shut, Ra’s composure faltered. He ran a hand over his face, the markings on his body prickling with energy of magic that was not his own. “I need a minute,” he muttered, voice rough. “Gotta make a call.”
Penny’s eyes softened, but she didn’t press. “Take your time. If you need anything—”
He nodded curtly and left the room, boots thudding softly on the wooden floor as he found a quiet space near the back of the house, away from the layers of magic and watchful eyes.
Ra let himself sink to the floor, back pressed to the cold wall. The fire inside him flickered uneasily, threatened by a chill that was not of this world. For a moment his mind shifted to Shelly–his beautiful, bold, and yet surprisingly sweet soul bonded. He didn’t like being away from her. Ra couldn’t stand not being able to see her with his own eyes so he knew without a doubt she was safe. But it was also challenging to be in front of her at the moment because of his deceit. Keeping things from her, whether it was his will or another’s, went against everything he was as a man. They were a team, equal partners in a relationship that would require both of them to make sacrifices for the other in order to have a healthy bonding, and here he was, keeping secrets. He wanted to throw back his head and howl in frustration. For a split second, Ra felt out of control of his emotions, and that was dangerous. He could not allow himself to lose it. He drew in a long, shaky breath, forced his mind to quiet, pushed Shelly to the side, though it pained him to do so, and let himself slip toward the edge of a trance.
The darkness surged up to meet him, swift and merciless. He felt Ramses before he saw him, an old, heavy weight in his blood, a whisper of sand and stone, of ancient iron and unyielding pride.
“Ra,” the voice intoned, thick with command and regret. “I’ve taken a great risk in contacting you. But you need to know what you’re up against.”
Ra clenched his fists, fighting the pull. “What do you want from me?” he whispered, teeth gritted.
But it wasn’t just Ramses. There was something else, slithering behind the words, a presence slick and cold, a hunger as old as hell itself.
“Lucifer.” Ramses’s voice answered the unasked question. “He’s going to attempt to use you. You must fight him with everything inside of you. Put walls around your mind. Picture them as the thickest stone, higher than any wall ever built.”
Ra’s heart thudded. He tried to resist, to close his mind, but the blood binding burned in his veins, a brand he could not ignore. “What have you done?” Ra asked, softly. He could feel the pharaoh’s guilt.
“What I had to do to help my people. Our people.”
“My people are here,” Ra ground out through gritted teeth. “I may have your blood running through my veins, but I am not a part of the mess you got yourself and your people into. I appreciate the help you have given me in the past, and now. But do not take me for a fool. You weren’t a powerful king without knowing how to get what you wanted from others and making sure it benefited you.”
Suddenly, it wasn’t Ramses voice in his mind. “Let me in,” came a dark, deep voice, slick and sweet as poisoned honey. “Open your mind to me and let me help you. You’ve been alone in all your struggles, carrying the weight of the burden from the sins of your ancestors. I can help you.”
Ra gasped, fighting for air, for control. The fire in him blazed, but the darkness was ancient, patient, relentless.
“Ra?” Shelly’s voice felt far away. He could hear the concern in it, and he wanted to reassure her that he was okay. But he honestly didn’t know if he was okay. Despite all of the things he’d faced in his life, he felt like this was the most challenging. How was he to stand against an agent evil like the lord of the underworld? Not the charlatan, Osiris, but the actual ruler?
Ra considered the battles he’d fought and won, foes he shouldn’t have been able to defeat. Then he reached out to Mother Gaia. “Please give me strength to do what I must, but what I cannot do on my own. I need you.” There was a rush of energy that filled him, and he felt walls being erected in his mind. As they grew taller, Ra managed to grit out one word. “No.” He felt the anger at the presence in his mind–it wasn’t enough to kick him completely out, but perhaps enough to keep him from his thoughts. At least for now. “Thank you, Mother Gaia,” he told the goddess and creator of the elementals. She’d told them before to reach out to her and she would answer. She’d kept her word. Ra knew it wouldn’t be the last time he would seek her out.
The darkness recoiled, but only for a moment. The struggle was just beginning.
“Ra, my son of fire,” Mother Gaia’s voice filled his mind, shoving away that of Lucifer’s. He felt the underworld king recoil. “I will give you strength, but I will not remove these calamities from you. I will not take away the trials you must go through. Your faith will be tested, your character built, and it will be a testament to the kind of man you will continue to grow into. What legacy do you want to leave for your children? What kind of men do you want your sons to become? Because, they will look to you, to your past, and to your present. How did you stand up to adversity, and how did you overcome it? Do not give up, do not step back, and when you feel overwhelmed, know that I am with you.”
“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head and absorbing her words. Did Ra want the mountains moved from his path? Yes. But was that the best thing for him? It must not have been because he trusted his creator. He trusted that she would not let his foot slip.
Ra opened his eyes, sweat chilling on his brow, the echo of Lucifer’s voice curling in his mind. He forced himself to his feet, jaw tight, determined. He would not let the darkness win. He would not lie down quietly and give in to the enemy, even if it killed him. Not while he was needed. Not while there was still fire left in his soul.
CHAPTER 20
“I’ve lived with a hole in my heart for as long as I can remember. I didn’t know what shape or size it was, only that something significant was missing from my life. And now, I feel like I’m on the precipice of finding out. I thought I’d be excited if this day ever came, but right now, all I feel is fear that has made me cold all the way to my bones.” ~ Aurora
The storm outside her window pressed in like a living thing. Despite the fact that it was morning, the skies were still dark. Aurora lay beneath her quilt, the old familiar weight of it suddenly too thin, too porous, as if the wind and the darkness could seep straight through. Rain battered the glass–hard, insistent, relentless. Every so often, a flicker of lightning would illuminate her ceiling, casting strange, leaping shadows that seemed to dance and writhe, as if the storm itself were trying to whisper secrets she couldn’t quite hear.
She’d tried reading, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on the words. Instead, her mind kept circling to her thoughts-turned-dreams. She’d had two that had haunted her since she’d met Cordelia: one during a nap and one tonight. In both dreams, she stood barefoot in a frozen field, curtains of green and blue light twisting overhead, a voice calling her name, shadows pulling at her ankles. That voice was always so close, so achingly familiar, and yet she could never see the face it belonged to.
After her nap, she had tumbled awake, heart racing, and had caught the echo of other emotions entirely: longing–fierce and wild–and fear–sharp as shattered glass.
This time, she hadn’t tried to resist. She let herself float in the uneasy stillness, listening to the wind and the racing of her own thoughts. She didn’t know when Fern had slipped into the room, only that her foster mother’s presence was suddenly there, warm and solid beside her on the mattress.
Fern stroked the hair back from Aurora’s forehead, the way she’d done since Aurora was small. “You want to talk about it?” Fern asked gently.
Aurora shook her head, but Fern waited, patient as the sunrise. After a long minute, Aurora whispered, “It’s the same dream I had from the nap I took yesterday. I’m somewhere cold. There’s this . . . light, and someone’s calling me, but I can’t see them. Then, something tries to pull me under. When I wake up, everything feels wrong. Like I’m not supposed to be here. Like I’m supposed to be somewhere else.”
Fern’s arms went around her, solid and reassuring. “Dreams can be strange, Honey. But you’re supposed to be here. This is where God brought you when you were just a baby. I promised to take care of you, and I always will.”
Aurora clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent of Fern’s sweater–lavender and a hint of cinnamon from the kitchen downstairs. But even as she did, she couldn’t shake the prickle at the back of her neck, that odd sense of being watched, even here in her own bed. She wondered, not for the first time, if the magic Cordelia spoke of was actually real and not just some ploy she put on for show for the tour of Blackhorn.
Later in the morning, Aurora finally made herself climb out of bed. Fern brewed tea, her hands trembling just enough for Aurora to notice, and set a mug in front of her. “You look tired,” Fern told her. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I hate that the dream kept you from resting.
Aurora nodded. “It’s weird how something that’s just a product of your subconscious can make you feel so unsafe.” She was glad it was Sunday and she wasn’t going to school–not just because she was tired, but because she felt so off. Aurora was sure she wouldn’t be able to concentrate at all.
“I declare, these storms . . . it’s crazy,” Fern said, sounding exasperated. “The news is calling for more bad weather, and there’s been a spree of crime in some of the bigger cities. I don’t know what this world is coming to. Perhaps, it’s no wonder you’re having bad dreams. But, no matter.” She waved her hand. “I’ve got something that will take your mind off things.” There was a mischievous smile on her sweet face. “Cordelia called,” Fern said, her voice a little too cheerful. “She’d like us to come back to Blackhorn today. She said one of her other coven members is back and after talking about how much you were interested in their history, maybe you’d like to talk to her?”
“Umm, yeah, that’d be great.” Aurora nodded, though her stomach twisted. She liked Cordelia, and she was interested in knowing more about the coven, but the idea of stepping outside, of facing the thickening gloom that seemed to have settled over Salem, made her want to curl up and hide. But instead of hiding, she ate a quick breakfast and then went to her room. She dressed quietly and let Fern braid her hair, the motions soothing in their familiarity.
Outside, the wind had picked up, flattening the grass and sending brittle leaves skittering across the sidewalk. The streets felt emptier than usual, as if the whole town was holding its breath. When they reached Blackhorn Mansion, Cordelia was waiting on the porch, her russet curls plastered to her cheeks by the rain, her smile tired but kind.
“Thank you for coming,” Cordelia said, ushering them inside. The house felt warm and inviting, but the air was thick with something Aurora couldn’t name. Maybe it was magic, if that was even real, or maybe just old secrets.
Cordelia led them into the parlor, where the fire crackled, and offered them chairs. “Thank you for coming back. Penny, a friend and coven member, who’s been out of town, is back, and I was telling her about you. She loves to share history about Blackhorn, and she’s a wealth of knowledge. She’s a fifth generation witch with tons of knowledge.”
“There’s no need to brag about me, but by all means, continue,” said a petite woman, with brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, bright, green eyes, and a friendly smile that naturally invited others to return it. “Hello, beautiful girl, you must be Aurora. I’m Penny.” She held out her hand and Aurora took it. Penny’s hand was warm, and she had a firm grip, but not painful. After a couple shakes, Penny simply held her hand and studied Aurora’s face. She tilted her head to the side as if needing a different angle, and then said, “Hmm, you are unique.” She released her hand and then took a seat in one of the other chairs in the room. “And you must be, Fern,” Penny looked at her foster mom. “You’ve done a good job protecting your very special charge.”
Fern frowned for a minute, no doubt as confused as Aurora by the statement. Then a hesitant smile appeared. “Thank you. I agree, she is very special.”
“So,” Penny rubbed her hands together and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “Aurora, how are you feeling? Since you came here and met Cordelia, anything weird happening?”
Aurora’s stomach churned. Why would she ask that? How could she possibly know that she wasn’t okay? She twisted her hands in her lap. “That’s a weird question to ask.”
Penny blew out a breath, her eyes widening a bit as she shook her head. “That’s actually the least bizarre question I’m going to ask. So, you should probably prepare yourself.”
“What happened to easing her into this?” A deep voice came from beyond the doorway. It wasn’t menacing, but it held a darkness, as if the person who owned it could be dark if they wanted to be. It was powerful and confident.
Aurora had never heard any man sound so sure. Then he stepped into the room and Aurora totally understood why he had that kind of voice. His appearance and presence was even more confident and bold than his voice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and made the room appear to shrink as he took up space. He had a very distinct, exotic look, definitely not caucasian. His face was handsome, but Aurora only noticed that for about half a second before her eyes met his. Black. Solid black. She sucked in a breath and scooted back on the couch.
“Way to go, King Tut,” Penny said, her voice dry. “You’ve managed to terrify her simply by standing there. I was going easy. I didn’t bring you into the room for a reason.” She pointed up at his eyes. “Those two reasons in particular, not to mention the whole I-could-kill-you-without-even-trying vibe you have going on.”
He didn’t seem amused, or angry, or anything. He was just there, existing.
“You do have that sort of vibe,” Cordelia agreed and then looked at Aurora, as if wanting her agreement.
“Yep,” Aurora said quickly, “definitely a killer vibe.”
His eyes turned back to her and his face softened just a tad. “You have nothing to fear from me. Ever.”
It was a declaration. He said it with such conviction that Aurora didn’t doubt it for a second. Whatever this man was capable of, he would never turn that violence on her. Why did she feel so sure of that, even though he still terrified her? No one should have eyes like that. “Are those contacts?” Please say those are contacts, she silently begged. Because if they weren’t, then that meant she was about to confirm her suspicions that there was more to the world than what you could see.
“They are not,” he answered simply. “My name is Ra,” he continued. He stepped further into the room, walking slowly with measured steps to the only other empty chair, next to Penny and directly across from Aurora. His movements were graceful for someone so large. He looked like he should lumber about, but he moved fluidly as he took a seat, as if he was one with the environment around him. “I am a friend of Penny’s.” He motioned to the woman who was currently studying her like you might a strange bug.
