Eternally Yours

  “I was in town, before,” Joshua said. “You didn’t come find me?”

  “No one mentioned you were there,” Roberto said, looking at Anne.

  She blushed. “I was so surprised to see you, I forgot.”

  At the head of the table, River was beaming, looking around as if all her favorite people were here. Since no one had seen Joshua in at least fifteen years, it must have been the first time all of them had been together in ages.

  “My brothers,” she said, warmth in her voice, her face glowing. “We are together.” She reached out and took Ottavio’s hand on her right, Daniel’s hand on her left.

  Good thing you didn’t kill them all, I thought as I helped myself to some pork tenderloin.

  “And Joshua—you were downtown, helping at Nastasya’s shops?”

  Across the table, Reyn’s head jerked up, the motion making Joshua turn sharply. Seeing it was just Reyn, he dismissed it and poured himself more wine. (Thank the goddess for Wine Wednesdays.)

  “Yes.”

  “What were you doing at the shops?” Brynne looked avidly interested, and I wondered if she was reviewing her own carpentry skills so she could come help, too. Right. By. His. Side.

  Joshua looked surprised at her question (meaning he blinked once) but answered. “Helped frame out some rooms in the apartments.”

  “It’s good to be with my family,” said Roberto, “but I’m afraid I’m not here just to visit.”

  No, of course not.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now,” he went on.

  “What news?” River asked, pausing in the middle of dishing up some mashed potatoes.

  Her youngest brother looked sober. “The house in Australia has been attacked. Three of the family are dead.”

  Everyone fell silent.

  Okay, I had been right here. No one could pin this on me.

  “Oh no,” Rachel murmured.

  “That’s not all,” said Roberto. “The house in Brazil has also been attacked. Fernanda barely escaped. Someone is targeting immortals—the immortals of the main houses.”

  Heads swiveled toward me as if pulled by one string.

  This was awful news. I took a bite of pork, my mind trying to put pieces together. “Did they say that someone had tried to steal their power?”

  Roberto shook his head. “It sounds like it was just an attack. Brett, in Australia, is sure that no one took his sisters’ or his father’s power when they died. He inherited it all.”

  “But we don’t suspect Brett?” I asked. None of this was making sense.

  “No, of course not,” Ottavio said, but I didn’t know why it was of course not.

  This was all weird. Incy had known where I was; the assumption was that someone had told him. The so-called master? Or whoever Miss Edna was? It was all so convoluted, and I couldn’t see the big picture.

  When I looked up again, Roberto’s gaze was fixed on me, his head tilted to one side as if he was pondering something. Then his eyes flared suddenly, his eyebrows rose slightly, and he looked away, suppressing a grin. He cleared his throat and drank from his wineglass, not looking at me again.

  And then… the angle of his head, the way he was tilting his wineglass… oh my God. Oh, jeez. I realized why he looked familiar. Oh my God, how embarrassing. He’d obviously just remembered, too. Crap. Well, the sixties have a lot to answer for. Jeezum.

  The rest of the meal was subdued except for the slight entertainment of watching Brynne watch Joshua and then looking up to see Reyn’s eyes smoldering at me because, I guessed, I had broken the “don’t let my sworn enemy frame rooms in your shop” clause. I blew it off—I didn’t have time for weird alpha-wolf crap. As for Roberto, the less I looked at him, the better.

  The dim ringing of a phone came to us—there was one landline in this place, and only one actual phone, which was connected to the wall in River’s office.

  Quizzical glances all around, and then River got up.

  “These attacks are so strange,” said Daisuke. “Why are they happening now?”

  “It isn’t the first time,” said Asher. “Do you remember—let’s see, it was… I think it was around eighteen hundred? The African house was attacked, and so was the one in Salem.”

  “Who was behind those?” Brynne asked.

  Asher shook his head. “We still don’t know.”

  We heard the door to River’s office close. Her footsteps in the hallway were slow, and when she came into the dining room, her face was white and strained. Unseeing, she sat down slowly and then put her hands over her face. Her shoulders began to shake, and then we heard a sob. River was crying.

  I’d never seen River cry like this, and I was appalled. I wanted to jump up and put my arms around her, stroking her fine silver hair, the way she’d stroked mine through numerous crying jags. Asher got up immediately and knelt by her chair.

  “Cara, what is it?” Daniel asked softly, putting his hand on her arm. All of her brothers looked wide-eyed and solemn—she’d probably been the anchor of their family for a millennium.

  Finally River took some gulping breaths, shaking her head as if to deny the reality of what she knew. “Louisette is dead. And Innocencio is gone.” She turned to Asher, hiding her face in his shoulder while everyone exchanged horrified glances. River’s sobs resumed as my stomach turned to ice-cold acid and the blood drained from my face.

  Maybe all this really was about me.

  CHAPTER 16

  My mother didn’t wear any particular robe when she made magick, just her regular clothes, which were beautiful, warm and heavy, often embroidered by her own hand. Actually, I hadn’t seen her making magick that often—only a few times that I could remember. The most vivid time was the night she died, when she was trying to save us. I wonder if she knew that she had, in fact, saved me? One of her five children was still alive. But… I can’t say that I think she would be very proud of me or happy I’d made it till now. Maybe someday. It was hard to think that far ahead.

  Now, standing in front of the mirror on my wardrobe door, I looked at myself in my white linen robe, feeling vaguely sacrificial. “Baaaa,” I said to my reflection, and retucked the scarf around my neck.

  It was nine o’clock, and we were about to head out into the night to perform a rite of scrying and protection, a big circle with all of us. Today had been weird and jangled—I hadn’t even gone to town to check on my investment. We stayed at home, moving and talking quietly, studying silently on our own, performing chores by rote. The only real interaction I’d had with anyone was with Reyn, whacking the hell out of things with my girl sword, behind the barn. River had stayed in her room until dinnertime, and when she appeared she’d asked us to make a circle with her tonight.

  Reyn, I thought, just as a tap sounded at my door. I opened it to see him standing there in his heavy topaz linen robe, his face solemn. Automatically I looked down, expecting to see the small white dog that followed him everywhere.

  “She’s in the barn,” he said. “I didn’t want her to get underfoot.”

  I sat on my bed. We hadn’t talked about anything earlier—just, Get your center of gravity lower! Use your arm muscles, you pansy! Boom! You just died! That had been fun.

  I was reluctant to go to tonight’s circle, and not just for the usual reason that making magick almost always meant feeling like crap afterward. Because Innocencio had come here to get me, he had ended up at River’s aunt’s place. Now River’s aunt was dead, and my former friend was in the wind. I felt so incredibly guilty, and everyone who saw me tonight would know it.

  Reyn sat next to me on the bed, and I thought longingly of all the more appealing things we could be doing instead of dreading a circle. “You didn’t make Innocencio kill Louisette,” he said.

  “He only knew her because of me,” I said.

  “You just can’t think like that. It doesn’t do any good.” He raked one hand through his tawny hair. “Plus, you know, this isn’t all about you.”


  I looked up. “No, I thought it wasn’t, and was so glad, but then this thing with Incy happened, and—”

  “No, I mean—this situation is not about you and your guilt or whatever feelings you have,” he said. “Your feelings aren’t what’s important here.”

  I felt my bottom lip get stiff.

  Reyn groaned. “I’m putting this badly.”

  “Once again,” I muttered.

  He shot me a glance. “Yeah, I know how sensitive you are, Miss Tact. I don’t know how you walk around with that mushy heart of yours.”

  I sighed. “So… you don’t think I caused this?”

  “No.” His voice was certain and reassuring. “No more than Helen caused Troy to fall.”

  I made my eyes big. “Oh God, were you there?”

  He patted my knee. “So funny. You know I’m only ten years older than you. Now, are you ready, or do you need to sit here and lose yourself in your own importance some more?”

  “Almost ready.” I slid off the bed and squirmed underneath it. Reyn had already seen where I kept my amulet, and I hadn’t had time to find a good new place for it. I pried off the floor molding, stuck my hand into the hole, and pulled out the handkerchief filled with the warm, heavy amulet; tarak-sin of the House of Úlfur the Wolf.

  “I can’t wait to rub this in Ottavio’s face,” I said, putting it around my neck.

  “That’s my girl,” Reyn said.

  The last time we’d had a big circle outside, there had been snow on the ground. What would it be like to make magick with River’s brothers, most of whom I didn’t like at all? Would our personal feelings get in the way, or would it not matter?

  Guess what color Ottavio’s robe was. Yes. Black. Like Jess’s, but of a more beautiful fabric—a rich, heavy jacquard, black on black. And for the first time I saw the House of Genoa’s tarak-sin: a thick ring, solidly made of old gold and set with a ruby the size of a finch’s egg and the color of congealed blood. It looked big and heavy on Ottavio’s long, tapered finger, but he seemed comfortable with it—he’d been wielding it ever since he and his siblings killed their parents to get it.

  The bright flash of Brynne’s red robe caught my eye, and I held out my hand to her. Smiling, she came and stood on my other side, somehow managing, perhaps through sheer force of will, to maneuver to be next to Joshua. His robe was a deep, dark green, with symbols embroidered on it in a dark red thread. Stars, moons, comets, and other heavenly objects scattered across their field of green, shining in the firelight.

  A hand on my shoulder made me turn, and I saw River’s face, her grief cast into sharp relief. She took in my amulet, hanging below my breastbone, leaving a warm spot.

  “Has Ottavio seen it yet?” she whispered.

  I shook my head, and for just a moment her face showed a trace of a smile.

  “Welcome, my friends and family,” she said, looking at everyone. “As you know, it seems wise to create a more powerful circle of protection around us. Asher, my brothers, and I have crafted a multilayered spell that will confer the strongest protection we know. We should be able to go about our business, our daily lives, even travel, confident of the spell’s protective powers.”

  Excitement started to flicker inside me like tiny fireflies—I felt alert and braced for anything.

  “The form of this spell will be different,” River went on. “I will start it, Asher and my brothers will add their parts, and then you may all join in, one by one, until at last we’ve woven an unbreakable circle of power and intent. Does anyone have any questions?”

  “How will we know when to join in?” Rachel asked.

  “People may join as they feel ready,” River explained. “I think you’ll be able to recognize it. Don’t worry if time passes and you haven’t felt the push—I know it will come to each of you.”

  “Okay,” said Rachel. She’d been here off and on for years but had apparently never seen anything like this. I told myself to pay attention, because this was big and significant and I had to learn it, be part of it.

  Shoulders back, eyes on the fire, I breathed in slowly, trying to let go of every thought in my head, which was like trying to clear a handful of wiggling eels out of a closet. Breathe in; breathe out. Breathe in strength; breathe out fear, hesitation, worry, impatience.

  River began to chant slowly, barely loud enough for me to hear. I kept breathing deeply, my eyes locked on her, my arms feeling the slight heat coming from Brynne and Reyn on either side.

  Soon River started drawing sigils in the air, tracing ancient, invisible symbols whose very shapes imbued magick and power. Most of them I didn’t recognize, but some I knew. The runes eolh, for protection, and thorn, for overcoming adversity, were repeated several times. Ur was for strength; peorth was for hidden things revealed. My father’s library had had books written entirely in runes; when I was little, my sister Eydís and I had scratched our names into a foundation stone, spelling them out in the runic alphabet.

  River began to walk clockwise around the fire. Seamlessly Asher blended his voice with hers and also drew sigils in the air, tracing out our purpose for the universe to see and hear. The chant was now more songlike, the words lengthening, rising and falling like a cantor’s prayer in a synagogue.

  Roberto joined them, his voice surprisingly smooth and deep. For an instant I flashed on how he’d looked in the sixties—the long, curly hair, scraggly beard, hippie clothes. Blinking, I put it firmly out of my mind. When Joshua fell into line, his rough tones underlay theirs like rain held heavily in a cloud.

  Daniel was next, and interestingly his voice was less distinctive, less strong.

  As Ottavio joined them, his tarak-sin glowed in the firelight as if the large red stone contained a fire of its own. How old was that tarak-sin?

  My hand rose and brushed across my amulet, which was warm and heavy against my chest. This was its first taste of major magick in 450 years. Was it eager? Did it know? A more unsettling thought came to me: What if I truly couldn’t channel Tähti magick? Could I accidentally undo everything they were creating here? River trusted me; she trusted my amulet with me. I would have to trust in her trust.

  Gradually the six of them came to a gentle stop, their feet landing lightly like leaves settling onto the surface of a pond. Their song was beautiful and eerie to listen to, their faces transported as they sang. Eyes unfocused, they each faced the flickering fire.

  The first person to step forward and join their song was Daisuke. His clear, light tenor seemed to sidle up to their chords, winding around it. There’s no other way to describe it except as threads or roots interweaving, the way a rope is made strong by twisting many strands together.

  Anxiously I waited for “the push,” for something to say, Okay, Nas, jump in! Rachel joined, then Charles, Amy, Solis, Anne, Jess. Reyn stepped forward, and Lorenz followed him right after. River had seemed certain it would come to each of us, but what if it didn’t? What if this circle of protection was rejecting me because I was inherently dark? I clutched my amulet tightly and frantically wondered what to do.

  Brynne left my side and joined the others. She had a beautiful singing voice, a little deep, a tiny bit rough around the edges, but warm and lovely. Then I was alone, on the outside of the circle.

  It was my worst fear coming true. I wasn’t getting the call to join. I was dark. I was being rejected. My amulet made me dangerous and Other. Not Tähti. Terävä.

  I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t be the only one left behind. With my breath lodged in my throat, every muscle wound tight enough to snap, my amulet making a circle of heat on my chest, I stepped forward. I was joining by force, probably at a place in the spell that wasn’t right. The first sound out of my mouth was a dry croak, my throat threatening to close entirely with fear and uncertainty. But I pulled in a thin, squeaking breath, closed my eyes, and tried to set free my mother’s song of power.

  My voice did not glide into place. I could feel it now, their powers and their voices. Ottavio’s
voice, the magick he was making, was like his robe: dark, even black, but a lustrous black, smooth and supple, layered with meaning and learning and intent. It was unexpectedly beautiful. River’s thread shone like liquid silver, like her hair, a fine, strong line of clarity and purpose. Joshua’s magick was rough and ragged, frayed at the edges. Reyn’s was similar but deeply amber and layered with pain and regret. Daniel’s was a bit weaker. Anne’s was lovely, blue and direct. Not everyone felt like they were there 100 percent. Mostly, yes. But there were a few tiny gaps that I couldn’t put my finger on—gaps that shifted, appearing and disappearing like a cloud before a wind.

  My own voice was sticking out like Dúfa among her siblings. Please let me join, I whispered to the universe. I want to be like them, I want these to be my people. I want this to be my home.

  Hot tears started in the back of my eyes, so I kept them clamped shut and drew in another wavering breath. I had never understood the words or sounds I was able to replicate. Had my mother created them, or were they passed down to her? I let my song of power nudge its way into the others, praying that nothing would explode, no one would stop and stare, that I wouldn’t get knocked back twenty feet. That a huge white tornado of flame wouldn’t consume me and everyone around me.

  My magick was gray.

  It was the first time I’d experienced it as a color—usually it was an emotion, a sound, a physical feeling, an intellectual acknowledgment of its existence. Here, now, my ribbon of song was gray. Not silver, like River’s. It wasn’t beautiful, like Ottavio’s, wasn’t seductive, like Reyn’s, nor bright, like Brynne’s. It was gray, and it was growing stronger.

  River’s voice shone above all as she revealed layer after layer of the spell, magick and more magick and then deeper magick still. I opened my eyes and focused on her, aligning my song with hers. Though we were singing different words from languages that far predated either of us, our songs felt the same.

  I’ve described magick as being a chrysanthemum of joy and light blooming in my chest. This wasn’t like that. This was power being channeled through me, coming from deep within the earth and flowing out of my mouth as words, now somewhat harsh-sounding to my ears. I didn’t feel joy as much as awe and tension, almost trepidation. My cord of gray gathered power to itself, rapidly strengthening, twisting on itself, becoming the gray of iron, the gray of steel.