The Discovered Read online

  I tried to reason that if Mr. Overprotective wasn’t concerned, then I probably shouldn’t have been either. But I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

  “So, you think we should just do nothing?” I scoffed. “A curse sounds pretty dangerous to me.”

  “For now, yes, we do nothing. Cursing someone can encompass just mild magickal workings and intentions for harm against someone, too. Not just overtly aggressive magick. Given all of our protections, I truly think it’s just someone who doesn’t want you here aiming blindly, attempting to intimidate you. They’re just angry they can’t get to you, and they’re powerful. Their anger is bound to be felt in the fluidity of this realm.”

  I watched him carefully. He didn’t answer whether this witch was the same he’d cursed last week, but it was safe to say my intuition was on the mark. It was hard to believe that someone was aiming magick at me just to be a nuisance, considering how dangerous Daelon made our enemies out to be. Then again, so far, the only evidence of a curse encompassed murky nightmares and evil-sounding voices saying mean things.

  I watched him as he steepled his fingers to rest on his lips, a storm brewing in his eyes. I didn’t understand why he was so dead set against learning more about a curse aimed at me, no matter how small. Was it really that he was just offended by my doubting his protective abilities?

  “What next?” I asked finally.

  “We’re done for the day,” he said without breaking his stare off into space.

  He barely acknowledged me as I got up from the floor and headed through the hall to my room. I shut the door behind me, leaning up against it for a moment. I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut toward how Daelon regarded me now. No more flirting or innuendos. No more looking at me with awe. All because of one whiskey-fueled lapse of judgement.

  However, I was proud of myself for one thing that had also dropped off the last couple days—my uncontrolled magickal outbursts. Daelon had been leading me in more daily meditations to work on separating my magick from my emotions, which had worked surprisingly well. I was much better at recognizing when I was channeling power unknowingly or impulsively, and it was easier to tune in and out of these frequencies at will.

  I shrugged out of my white sweater, dark jeans, and underwear, tossing them on the bed. I ran the shower and waited for the water to heat up to my liking. As I stepped in, I was immediately soothed by the heat on my skin, especially as the weather was growing colder.

  Just like Daelon.

  I sighed, leaning my head against the tile as the steam rose all around me. Daelon was just a distraction from what my mothers and—possibly even the Universe—wanted me to accomplish here in this mysterious realm. I grew more controlled and in tune with my power every day. Soon there would be no reason for him to keep the truth of my enemies from me. If I had that information, my path would become clearer. And then I wouldn’t need Daelon at all.

  I didn’t like how willing he was to shrug off a possible attack from our enemies. If he wasn’t going to do anything about whoever used intimidation magick against me, that was his prerogative. I, however, thought it may be prudent to send them some of their own medicine.

  I finished up my shower and pulled a black, off-the-shoulder sweater dress over my head. Sitting on the floor, I cast a protective circle around myself with my fingers, watching as a hazy, barely perceptible translucent field encircled me.

  “Reveal who cursed me,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I sent my power out into the world through a point at the top of my protective field, searching for who matched the imprint of my nightmares and negative visions.

  I opened my eyes and set my gaze upon the window in front of me, watching as the woodland scenery shifted into the field from my second nightmare. A figure appeared again in the distance, and I was certain it was a man, just as it had been in my past encounters. He was shrouded in black smoke as before, unmoving.

  “Who are you?” I whispered.

  A voice sounded in my mind, thick and distorted—like the way reporters altered the voices of anonymous sources.

  Perhaps I’m the Devil. Or maybe a god. Either way, this realm is mine.

  I switched over to telepathic communication, which seemed most natural when practicing magick. The words appeared in my mind like a kind of auditory hallucination.

  Yeah, I don’t think so. Why do you hide?

  I’m not the only one hiding my identity from you, little witch.

  My heartrate picked up at the sound of Daelon’s condescending, but also growing-on-me pet name. How could he possibly know that kind of information? Just as he’d done before, this entity sought to challenge my trust in Daelon. But why? I figured it must’ve had to do with Daelon’s shielding powers. If I didn’t trust him and ran off, then I’d open myself up to attack.

  You hide because you’re the one who’s weak, I retorted, ignoring his attempts to distract me and seed doubt. You want to frighten me with all of these games. Because I’ve returned to Aradia and... you’re scared of me. You know that I could destroy you.

  A sickening, bone-chilling laugh erupted in my ears.

  How wrong you are…

  The figure suddenly rushed toward me. As he came closer to the window, the smoke cleared to reveal skin made up of darkened, rotting flesh—a true embodiment of what I pictured the Devil to look like—his black robes whipping all around him. He bared his pointy, uneven teeth, and I couldn’t help but let out a blood curdling scream, despite knowing this was all a show. I wasn’t much of a horror movie fan, even if I knew the monsters weren’t real.

  Leave me now, I yelled, channeling all of my fear into an intent to banish. My magick travelled up and out of my circle to carry away my intent. It swarmed the windows, and it melted away the field scene and my enemy to reveal tall pines and evergreens once more.

  A loud thump at my door made my heart nearly leap out of my chest for the second time. I quickly dispersed the circle, releasing its energy back into the world, and went to investigate. My breathing was shallow as I crept toward the door, my hand shaking as I turned the knob. As I did, Daelon fell from where he’d been slumped against the other side.

  “No,” I croaked in a panic, reaching for him. His body was far too heavy for me to carry, so I carefully brought him down to the floor and dragged him onto the rug. “Daelon. You answer me right now,” I begged, shaking his shoulders as I knelt over him. His dark eyes were wide open but empty, staring into the abyss. His body was rigid and lifeless.

  I reached two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. As I found the right spot, my breath caught in my throat. His heart was beating, so soft and so faint. Tears pricked my eyes, threatening to overflow. If anything happened to him it would be my fault. Why couldn’t I just do as he asked? I knew not to do magick under his nose. He told me to leave it alone, and instead I provoked something dangerous.

  I made a silent prayer to the Universe, to the Goddess my mothers prayed to, to every deity ever worshipped by human or witch. I promised I would start listening to his guidance. Just let him live.

  I wiped the tears from my cheeks and began to call upon the forces surrounding me, but before I could transform energy into magick, his pulse strengthened under my fingers. The pounding moved quicker, his heartbeat jumping to meet my skin with vigor. I sighed a breath of relief, letting my head fall to his chest. “Oh, thank you. Thank you,” I gasped to no one in particular.

  I lifted my head up, watching Daelon’s chest rise and fall. His eyes were still open and unfocused. I stared into them, tentatively raising my hand to touch the side of his face. I trailed my fingers from his temple down the side of his jaw. When I moved my fingers back up to continue the movement, Daelon suddenly caught my wrist in his hand. His grip was so tight it hurt.

  “Ow,” I yelped. “Ease up a bit, please.” I started to smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace when his grip only grew firmer. A look I’d never seen before flashed in his eyes.
They were fiery and hostile, and hauntingly devoid of any semblance of Daelon.

  He let go of my arm, and in one swift motion sprung up and rolled over on top of me. I yelled out as my head slammed into the floor, blinking back tears from the impact. I fought back against him as he overpowered me, putting his full weight on my torso and pinning my flailing wrists to the ground.

  “Daelon, stop,” I cried.

  But it wasn’t Daelon at all. For the first time, I could read the energetic field around his body, and it held the screams of thousands, thick like blood and as sour as rotting flesh and charred land. My body rejected this energy like the plague. Hot nausea rose up in my stomach. I had to block it out completely.

  He glared down at me, operating robotically like a wind-up soldier. “Do you still think I’m weak?”

  It was the distorted voice of the witch who cursed me moving through Daelon’s lips. He let go of my wrists and wrapped his hands around my throat, grinning sadistically. I tried to throw him off with my power but was met with an energetic wall that encircled his body. I could’ve found a way to break through it, but my ability to concentrate on my magick faltered as I ran out of oxygen.

  I clawed at his hands, attempting to pry them from my neck, digging my fingernails into his skin. I searched his eyes, begging Daelon to come back to me as my vision blurred. I channeled whatever I could through my hands into his, but all I could seem to think about was my feelings for him—my foolish sentiments that weren’t going to do me any good in this moment. My longing, my frustrating infatuation, my gratitude for his protection and expertise, and, as hard as it was for me to admit when I wasn’t close to death… my incurable and irrational adoration of him. Despite all of the chaos and confusion, I couldn’t deny this connection that felt just as natural to me as my magick did.

  This connection that felt like the home I’d never seen.

  My hands tightened around his one last time as I held my gaze steadfast, some of my energy flowing into him as the darkness descended.

  I was on the beach my mothers told me about, overlooking the ocean that I used as my psychic metaphor. The rushing of waves and calls of birds flooded my ears. I wasn’t quite sure how I got here or how this day began, but it felt too real to be a dream. The sand sparkled in multicolor, and I looked down to see I wore a long, white dress. I walked to the water and willed it to act as a mirror. I stared at my ethereal reflection with glowing skin and copper hair that shimmered with the tones of a sunrise. A crown made of white roses encircled my head like a halo. White roses were Momma Jane’s favorite.

  Chills danced down my spine as the din of a familiar song rose up around me, carried by too many voices to count. Though it was wordless, I knew it was a song of hope. It was a song about unity. A love song for a people who must overcome. This song had carried over mountains, through valleys, across deserts and snow-covered hills, and it crested over the tall waves that brought it to our shore.

  I turned from the ocean to see witches dressed in white forming a semi-circle, like a crescent moon. I scanned their faces and saw my mothers, who looked youthful and radiant, smiling at me. Momma Celeste’s blond hair was silvery and short, and Momma Jane’s was dark, long and wavy, with the faintest tinge of red in its undertones. I ran toward them, but soon found myself falling to my knees in the warm sand. I wanted so desperately to get up and embrace them, but I couldn’t move.

  “No Áine, not yet,” Momma Jane said, stepping forward from the group.

  I knew she was right. This was not my time. I did not belong in this place. If I touched them, I might never leave.

  “I miss you so much it hurts,” I choked, clutching my chest. “I love you.”

  “We love you too, sweet child,” Momma Celeste cooed, clasping her hand in Momma Jane’s.

  “And Áine—stop blaming yourself,” Momma Jane said, her face grave. “It is but a distraction from your grief, and a way to deny your destiny of a greater purpose… do you understand that?”

  I looked at all the faces before me, young and old, and knew that they were family too. They smiled at me, beginning to chant softly, and I knew it was spells of protection, of strength, and of renewal.

  A tear escaped my eye. “I know it wasn’t my fault, deep down. But I wanted to save you, and you made me leave.”

  “You will save us. Just not in the way you thought. You cannot possibly fathom the entirety of your life’s arc and influence from your own limited perspective. We knew we were going to die. We had accepted it long before those men came. The power of the cruelty of killing a child’s parents right before her eyes forged a spell so powerful that it kept you hidden from them. It allowed you to mature and grow. It allowed others’ roles in this story to manifest and develop. If anything had happened differently or on an alternate timeline then the whole plan would’ve fallen apart.”

  Plan? I shook my head, my brows furrowed. I struggled against the urge to run to them, to touch their faces, and to give in to the temptation that promised an end to my pain and all the pain that was to come.

  This time Momma Celeste spoke, her voice soft and lyrical. “You don’t see it all now, but you must have faith. This story has many chapters, and each piece will need to fall into place at the exact moment that it should and not a moment before. Like a road with many hills, you will not be able to see where it all leads. But know that it will lead.”

  “She needs to go back now,” a woman said, with kind eyes, olive-toned skin, and dark brown hair. She offered me a knowing smile, almost as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t. There was something familiar in her face, but Momma Celeste’s voice cut through before I could place it.

  “No matter how dark and cold, how difficult or impossible your journey becomes, know that we will always be with you. The whole world is on your side. You will always have friends where you least expect them.”

  The ground beneath me began to shake, like the very fabric of this world was crumbling. Suddenly my mothers and our people were much farther away, and they became more and more distant until they were merely specks of white light among the tall sand dunes. The ocean lapped at my heels as I knelt, and soon it was at my waist. I waited there in the sand until a large wave overtook me, and I was returned to myself.

  Chapter 9

  My eyes fluttered open to Daelon kneeling over me, begging as I had when I thought I’d killed him with my disobedience. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped around one of mine. I was still on the floor, and I realized that no more than a few minutes had passed. Or else I would be dead.

  “Please,” he prayed softly.

  A soothing energy flowed from his hands to mine, but the pain and stiffness around my no-doubt bruised neck was raw and intense.

  “Daelon,” I croaked, my voice scratchy. I winced at the pain of speaking.

  “Thank the Goddess.” He didn’t let go of my hand as he gazed down at me, his worry transforming to disgust as he studied my neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said instinctively, but winced once more. My mouth tasted metallic.

  “Shhh,” he soothed and lifted me up into his arms and carried me across the room. He laid me down on my bed, so gentle and careful. “It’s not okay.” He slumped to his knees beside the bed buried his head in his hands, shame wracking his features.

  “I know it wasn’t you. It’s my fault for provoking whoever that was,” I said.

  He looked up, and something flashed in his eyes, but he pressed a finger to his lips in a gesture for me to stop hurting myself by talking. I hoped this witchy super-healing would kick in soon.

  My thoughts traveled to the dream that didn’t feel like a dream, and I let that feeling of pure love sent by my mothers and the other people in white wash over me. It was real, wasn’t it? It was becoming harder and harder to tell in the witch realm. Everything felt real on some level.

  “This is all my fault, trust me,” Daelon said, his last words laced with hidden meaning. He shook his head.
“Let me get you something for the pain.”

  It was Daelon I wanted to be free from pain. I had never seen so much in him—in his eyes, in the lines in his forehead, and in his grimace. He had to know that it wasn’t he who hurt me. How could he blame himself?

  He quickly returned, holding out his hand where two blue pills lay. He handed me a glass of water with the other. I took them, reminded of a few weeks ago when I’d done the same. It was insane how quickly things had changed and progressed.

  I just needed to be held. To be comforted. Having a near-death experience and seeing my mothers made me feel childlike and vulnerable. It was a feeling I rarely let myself indulge, but something about the words they spoke—that I still didn’t entirely understand—filled a hole inside of me. A gaping wound of shame, denial, and faithlessness. This experience was what I needed in order to move forward, to see their deaths as a source of strength and sacrifice rather than a weakness I blamed myself for. I still didn’t entirely know how to have faith in this path they’d laid out for me, which still felt as obscured and muddled as a hazy childhood memory.

  I just knew I had to try.

  “Could you lie with me?” I asked finally.

  Daelon hesitated. He stood over me, his face frozen in worry.

  “Oh,” I said. “You don’t have to.” I wanted to cry.

  “I don’t want to hurt you further,” he said quickly. “I’ve already failed you once.” He studied my neck again, disgust rising back up to his features.

  “Please.”

  He raised his gaze to mine and immediately acquiesced, crawling in beside me. I sucked in a breath as I moved onto my side, my back to him. I felt the bed shift as he took my cue and gently wrapped an arm around me, melding himself to me. I marveled at how perfectly our bodies fit together as his breath tickled the back of my neck.

  “I thought I’d killed you,” he whispered, his voice as hoarse as mine. His grip tightened around me, and he snaked his hand around mine.