Baehrly Alive (9 page)

My brain wasn’t going to let me forget that one for quite some time.

I raised my eyebrows as Donovan offered me a rather sticky and squashed candy bar.

“Chocolate?” I asked. “You brought chocolate?”

Donovan chuckled. “Do you want any or not?”

I snatched at the bar before he could change his mind. I might be going crazy one vampire venom-induced nightmare at a time, but I wasn’t crazy enough to turn down chocolate.

“Oh, bliss,” I murmured, as I pulled back the wrapper, not even caring that I was getting gooey, melted chocolate all over my fingers.

Donovan gave me a strange look.

“What?” I muttered through a mouthful of chocolate.

He shook his head and looked down at his pack, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

“Chocolate,” I informed him, “is the most powerful force on earth.”

“Not love?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

I shook my head. “Nah. Love is for pansies. Chocolate is the real thing, baby.”

Donovan chuckled. “Are you sure you’re getting enough oxygen now?”

I made a face at him. “Cute. Just for that you’re going to be the one setting up camp tonight while I try to find our elusive Magical spring.”

“You’re trying to tell me that it wasn’t going to me all along?” He raised one eyebrow challengingly at me.

“Who knows,” I said evasively. “I might have decided to be nice. This once.”

Donovan muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘pig fly’. I frowned. Had I failed to mention flying pigs to him?

Had I failed to feed him flying pig bacon?

Now, that was just plain wrong. Flying pig bacon was one of the best things about being part of the Magical Community.

I was going to have to rectify that when we got back home.

Our break and snack gave me the boost I needed to face our next step—climbing a mountain. We didn’t even get to climb on nice, designated path. Because this was forbidden territory, we were forced to work our way straight through the woods, climbing over, under, and around ancient wood falls and trying to avoid the worst of the venomous plants and insects.

The air around us was brilliant with the pungent piney perfume that touched the very center of my Earth Witch being. If anything could soothe my rumpled soul it was this—raw wilderness, where every step we took was akin to sacrilege.

It was hallowed ground.

For any lesser task, I would never have dared to stray even near this place. More than one culture held it sacred—which is why it was forbidden for anyone even to be here.

But, despite my careless words and easy humor, love was not something to be dismissed. My little brother’s life was more sacred to me than even the sanctity of this place. I would desecrate this place with my presence if there was any hope to be had that I would be able to save him.

I shuddered as I realized how close that thinking was to the mindset that had led to Aria’s murder and the subsequent attempts to raise her from the dead again.

But, no—there were lines I would not cross. I might have a pet zombie chicken, but he had been zombified before I had ever come across him-- I would never inflict that existence on any creature or being—it was too cruel, too wrong.

The further up the mountain slope we climbed, the stiller the air around us became. It almost felt heavy with awareness. The mountain knew we were there. I wondered what it thought of us—if it was waiting to see if we were friend or foe.

If we would live long enough to know, if it considered us an enemy.

Donovan shot another glance over his shoulder, his ‘cop face’ in place, which meant he was worried about something.

“It’s not just you,” I reassured him. “I feel it, too. This place is awake, as the whole world was, once. I suppose every place in Faerie is aware like this, still.”

Donovan shuddered convulsively. “We should not be here,” he said uneasily. “We don’t belong here.”

I put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, we don’t belong here, but we don’t mean any harm to this place. We’re just searching for a way to save my brother—and Gwyn.”

As I announced that intention out loud, the air seemed to lighten up and weigh less heavily on us. I, for one, could breathe more easily—though Donovan still jumped at every shadow that danced through the leaves and dappled the ground around us.

He shivered. “It’s like a graveyard.”

I reached out to squeeze his hand—it was icy cold to the touch.

“Not a graveyard,” I murmured, lifting his fingers to my lips. “More like a place still aware and alive.”

His fingers closed around mine. “No,” he whispered starkly. “It’s haunted.”

The paleness of his face frightened me. I had never seen him like this—even when facing certain death.

“Death is here,” he whispered tonelessly, making the hair rise at the nape of my neck.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I just put my arms around him and held him, feeling the tremors that danced through his entire body.

My brave soldier was terrified. He was so frightened by what he could feel here in this place that he could not move—he gasped for breath.

I wondered if this were a warning.

A reminder that we were trespassers here.

After a long moment, Donovan was able to draw breath again. He relaxed in my arms and turned his head to press his lips against my hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I just squeezed his hand, not really understand what had just happened. I felt like I was missing something important—some great vital clue.

This place was going to drive us both mad if we lingered too long. The air was thick with Magic.

Magic—and something else.

Maybe Donovan was right. Maybe Death did live here.

I ignored the goosebumps leaping into existence across my arms. I put a hand on either side of Donovan’s face and drew his mouth down to mine.

His kiss was urgent, pain-filled—hungry, desperate—the kiss of a man drowning in a world of uncertainty and loneliness. I could feel my own fears and insecurities rise, blending with his, binding us together until the thorns blossomed into something more—something greater than either of us.

The Magic of two people whose souls recognized their kin in the other.

Lust, passion—those were just sparks, flickers in the night of life.

This was something more—a conflagration.

But it did not burn us up—it heated through our bodies, our souls, comforted us, and lifted us up.

This kiss burned out all the unworthy weaknesses, all the petty differences of man, woman—of Ordinary and the Magical—binding us together as surely as any forge.

Love was too small a word.

The world was too small to contain us.

I thought, perhaps, our souls lifted out of our bodies, dancing together in this sacred place, tangling and rejoicing in such a way that they could never truly be separated again.

And then I was aware of the warm, dry touch of his lips brushing against the tear-dampened skin of my own. I could taste my tears, sweat… chocolate.

And humanity.

Whatever we had experienced-- had been—for a brief moment—it had passed. We were mortal again.

Humans, frail and uncertain in the wilderness, under the watchful gaze of ancient Magics.

Chapter Seven

There were markings here, surrounding us—signs that told us that this was where a great old leader lay, resting, waiting for the world to be renewed. This was a beautiful place—perhaps one of the most beautiful in our world.

We bowed our heads in respect and left that place hastily. He was not our king, and we would not disturb him or his rest.

What we were seeking wasn’t to be found there.

The wind rustled through the leaves of the tress, sighing and whispering around us. I wondered how many of the voices were real, or if they were all just in my head.

We walked in silence. It took too much energy to speak. We trudge along, pausing to climb over debris here and there—the natural kind, not the man-made kind. I wondered when the last time was that any of these trees had seen people.

This place was wild, still—we did not see wolves, but we heard them yipping and howling. Donovan and I jumped as an answering cry answered not far from where we were standing.

I hoped that my Magic would be enough to hold back any creatures who might think of us as easy prey. I didn’t want to spill blood of any sort on this sacred ground—who knew what curses would arise.

Maybe it was the bear in me, but for whatever reason, I scented the spring before we ever heard or saw it. What did water even smell like? But there was something pure and living about this water. If I had been a Water Witch, perhaps I would have understood its language.

“I smell water,” I told Donovan.

He looked at me as if I were crazy. After all—it had been sprinkling off and on all afternoon. What was a little more water?

It wasn’t something I could explain. I just knew.

I willingly and gratefully swung my pack down and leaned it against the closest tree. I walked through the small, uneven clearing, kicking at old leaves and roots that made the ground so treacherous. I must have looked like some kind of wild turkey, scratching at the ground with my boots like that.

The spring, when I found it, was scarcely more than a trickle.

But there was no doubt in my mind that it was what we were looking for. The temptation sang out at me—demanding that I splash my face and drink deeply.

But I had grown up around Magic. I knew better. What kind of curses might exist around this place to keep it safe? What defenses might the spring have to protect it from the likes of me?

A place does not become forbidden if it is open and welcoming.

Instead, I traced the spring higher up the hill, the trickling path it took through the mud and stones, which were growing slick from the rain.

Donovan followed me dubiously, carrying my pack along with his own. “Are you sure about this? It doesn’t look like much.”

I paused triumphantly and pointed in front of me. “See?”

The water was flowing from the heart of a stone.

Donovan circled the boulder several times, trying to find some other source for the water, but there was none. This rock was the source of the Magical spring.

To the Ordinary eye, it was nothing special—just another boulder among many—the same color, the same rough shape.

But to my other sight, it was blinding in its radiance. I pushed my sunglasses higher on my face as if they could protect me.

There was power here, all right.

I just hoped that it would work with us and be able to save my little brother.

And Gwyn, of course.

Donovan frowned at the rock, his eyes slightly unfocused—as if he, too, could sense something there.

I didn’t know what to offer the spring, but I had come prepared with everything I could think of. I went to my pack and pulled out the pouch of blessed salt, which I sprinkled on the boulder—asking for peace and health. I broke a piece of bread and set it on top of the boulder—I had ground the grains myself and make the bread from scratch or it would not have made an acceptable sacrifice. I was already pushing it—I had not grown the grain myself and fed it on my blood, sweat, tears, and urine.

Not all Magic was pretty.

I caught up a small, but sharp ceremonial dagger.

Donovan grabbed my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I frowned at him. “We can’t just walk in here and expect to take healing water for the asking. Magic always asks for something in return.” I pulled my wrist away from him and frowned. “It doesn’t even hurt… much.”

“Then I’ll do it,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “You can’t. I have already consecrated all the other items. It has to be me. Stop being a worry wart already, okay?”

Donovan nodded, but he was frowning.

I hissed as I closed my hand around the blade of my knife. I held my hand over the surface of the stone. Three drops I let fall to the north, seven for the south, twelve for the east, but the west I left pure.

That was where I would poured the oil infused with herbs—all herbs of healing and health—since that was what we were hoping to accomplish with the spring water.

Donovan watched as I poured the sweet-scented oil over the west portion of the rock.

I stepped back, murmuring a thank you.

“Well?” he said. “How did it go?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But I guess we’re going to find out if our sacrifice was acceptable. It was kind of a mish-mash of cultures, but I didn’t know what it might expect.”

Donovan shook his head. “Just when I think that I’m starting to get a hang of this Magical world of yours, I realize that I have only seen the very tip of the iceberg.”

“More like the tip of the ice cap,” I suggested sweetly.