Isaac
I gently lift Sydney out of Maddy’s arms. He blinks, then a fleeting smile stretches over his face before he falls back asleep with milk dribbling down his cheek. Ryan is already sleeping in the double-wide crib tucked beneath the window in our bedroom, his chubby arms and legs splayed out like a starfish.
Sydney likes to be swaddled but I’m terrible at it. I mumble curses under my breath as I try to adjust his swaddle and gently lay him down beside his brother, who is in nothing but a diaper, which is just the way Ryan likes it.
Thank the Goddess it’s a sweltering summer night.
I edge away from the crib with my hands out in surrender, grimacing as my foot catches that damned squeaky floorboard I keep forgetting to tell someone to fix, but the twins remain asleep.
So does my wife.
Maddy’s wine-red hair falls over her shoulder and back as she rolls over on her side and curls into the blankets. She whispers something to herself in her sleep, but it’s lost on me. I’m too focused on the way the faint moonlight plays over her face and neck.
I’d love to be in bed with her right now. In fact, that’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.
But tonight is important.
I feel that sharp tug in the back of my head for the third time in the last ten minutes and leave the room as quickly as I can without making enough noise to wake up my family. I break into a jog heading toward the library.
It only takes me a few minutes to reach my observatory. I yank on the lever that opens up the roof to the clear, moonless sky. The metal clicks and hisses as the metal ceiling pulls apart, folding into itself, and then there’s nothing but stars overhead–a clear, humid night. A new moon. The only night during the month–during the lunar cycle–when Ryatt and I can send messages through the veil.
The tug in my head–Ryatt’s summons–is like someone is trying to connect with me over the mind-link, but they’re incredibly out of range. I can feel it, however, which means we were right about our assumptions when it came to communicating through the veil.
I rub my palms over my navy blue athletic shorts then approach the glittering moonstone bowl I tasked the priestesses at the temple to craft for me. It rests on a simple wood table and is surprisingly heavy for its size. It cost as much as adding a new wing onto my castle. So, this better work, otherwise my efforts and money have been wasted.
Water shimmers in the bowl, reflecting the stars. The water is from the falls on Maatua and was painstakingly brought here just for this purpose. I couldn’t justify a trip to Maatua every month on the new moon, but when I tried to use water from a nearby creek as a conduit, I could barely hear a word Ryatt said to me, and vice versa.
A month ago, I sat near the creek and shouted into it like a lunatic. He’d shouted back, and all I could gather from our brief conversation was that they made it back to Eastonia, to Veiled Valley, and some brief instructions about how to make this monthly ritual work better for both of us.
I’d heard the word moonstone, and it sparked an idea in my mind.
Now I have a glorified salad bowl filled with water from an island in a far off sea sitting in my observatory.
I lean over the bowl, resting my hands on either side of it, and let my mind go blank. The veil is at its thinnest during the new moon. Ryatt had told me everything he knew about the veil, and crossing it, during his time in the Isles.
The water ripples. I wait. In the space of a breath, I feel the sensation of being watched. I close my eyes, still trying to clear my thoughts, and wait for Ryatt’s voice–fractured and buzzing with static–to fill my head.
But instead, I hear the quiet chirping of birds, the soft hum of gently rushing water, and the warm sun… on my face.
I open my eyes.
“You did something right,” Ryatt says as he sits down on a boulder on the other side of a glistening creek. Emerald color stone litters the water, turning it a stunning green. I look around, squinting into the sun.
“How?” I reach up and pull a fresh, bright green leaf from a tree branch brushing the top of my head. I can feel the fuzzy coating on the leaf as well as smell its fresh, bright scent. “Did you bring me here?”
“You’re not really here,” Ryatt says with a little wave of his hand in my direction. “Whatever you did differently this time worked, apparently.”
I sink down on a fallen log and continue squinting at my surroundings. We’re in a dense forest, in a clearing, and it’s a rich, late spring morning. In the distance, twists of dark smoke break through the canopy of the trees and stretch toward a cloudless sky.
Eastonia is beautiful, untouched, and seemingly empty.
“This is a mirage, then?”
“Exactly.” Ryatt sounds bored, but one look at his face tells me he likely hasn’t slept in a while. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his shoulders are slumped. But the sun catches on something beside him.
“Is that the sword?”
“Hmm? Oh–” he motions to the sword leaning on his leg, its blade resting in the water. I notice the shadows then. Inky, black tendrils that fan out from the sword into the water. “I suppose this is another reason our meeting today is so much clearer than last time. I have your sister to thank for its return.”
I want to ask what happened over the last month. The last time we’d talked, much had been said, but so little was understood because of the shitty connection. I remember he mentioned Ella returning to a nearby witch coven, whatever the hell he meant by that, but this sword is the one he told my dad he didn’t want falling into the wrong hands. The same sword he said would be better off destroyed or lost forever.
Now it’s back, and Ryatt’s withdrawn expression tells me something happened. Something big.
I bite down on the million questions buzzing through my mind and remind myself, like Maddy reminds me constantly when Ryatt and Ella are brought up in conversation, that Ella might be my sister, but Ryatt is her mate. Her husband, by all accounts.
I have no right to interrogate him. He’d probably look worse than he does now if Ella were dead.
“How are your sons and your mate?”
“Fine. Healthy, happy. I can’t ask for more.”
A beat of silence. Then Ryatt says, “I don’t have much time to talk, so I’ll be quick and brief. Ella was kidnapped, but she’s home now. Resting. She beheaded a witch and killed at least a dozen warriors and escaped on her own accord.”
I raise my brows, finding myself momentarily speechless.
My brother-in-law meets my eyes. “She’s not feeling well.”
“Well, obviously–”
“This goes beyond what she just went through and the pregnancy, I believe.”
Another moment of silence, nothing but the trembling creek and birdsong to break it.
Ryatt rests his hands on his knees, his tattooed fingers splayed. “Have you seen anything in the stars regarding Ella?”
“I told you I don’t use those gifts often–”
He raises his gaze, locking his eyes on mine. “I need you to try.”
I shake my head. “What good are having powers like mine in my own realm, Ryatt? They’re better kept contained.”
“She said something to me less than an hour ago that reminded me of the conversation we had regarding what you saw about my wife in one of your visions, Isaac.” His tone is ice cold. For the first time, I see Ryatt for what he truly is. Fucking powerful. The most powerful man I’ve ever encountered, in all honesty. His power rumbles through him, spanning past him. The trees go silent as the birds halt their songs. This man… he could topple worlds with a snap of his fingers, I’m sure.
If he is Ella’s match, then my vision of her raising all types of hell isn’t as unbelievable as I thought.
“What exactly did she say?”
Ryatt leans back so the sun touches his face and shuts heavy eyes. I can almost feel the exhaustion pouring off him as he tilts his chin toward the sun and exhales, “She was talking about the baby and what she would do if anything happens to that child.”
I chew the inside of my cheek as I watch him lower his gaze back to mine. His expression is emotionless–a trained look I use myself during meetings and when facing Alphas who step out of line, but his eyes betray the hard planes of his face.
“I need you to try to have your mother’s tears sent through the veil.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Not now,” he breathes, picking an invisible piece of lint from his pants. “But Ella seems off. If, gods forbid, something were to happen during the birth… or our child is born sickly….” He swallows, unable to finish the words.
While I don't know the details of what Ella just went through, I can imagine, based on Ryatt’s expression right now, that he’s worried. He’s practically falling apart at the edges.
“I worry if Ella were to lose the child, your vision would come true.”
I grind my teeth. “Don’t the all-powerful creatures of Eastonia have the kind of healing magic my mom has?”
“Not at her caliber, and it’s hard to find. We normally make do with herbal solutions and…potions.” He waves a hand in dismissal. “Ella is being seen by a midwife from the coven as we speak.”
“You’re not with her for that?”
“I had to meet with you, and you were running late,” he says with a touch of impatience.
I cross my arms over my chest, rolling the little leaf I plucked earlier between my fingers. “If the veil ever comes down, I’m buying you a fucking cellphone.”
He says nothing at first but continues to stare at me. Ignoring my jab completely, he says, “Train your powers of sight, Isaac.”
“I will,” I reply, hoping that appeases him. “But what if I am right and my vision of Ella tearing your world apart and building an army is true? How do you know that this vision of mine shows Ella in a… bad light? What if she’s waging war for good reasons, for peace?”
“She wouldn’t be,” he says so quickly it takes me off guard. “She was wearing the mask in your visions, wasn’t she? That’s dark magic, Isaac. Just like this sword and the rest of the objects made during the times before the veil, when gods walked alongside our kind. If Ella loses something precious, and that’s all it takes to bring hellfire down on my people…” His eyes catch on the water, so full of emotion I find myself sitting up a little straighter. “I need your mother’s tears. Find a way.”
With that, he grips the hilt of his sword and pulls it out of the water, and the world around me ceases to exist. Suddenly, I’m back in my observatory, standing with my palms braced on either side of the moonstone bowl.
I curl my hands into fists before taking a step away from the table.
Something is crushed between the fingers of my left hand. I unfurl them and find a small, bright green leaf.