Page 74

“I told you, the prayer is wrong,” Cerridwen said, crossing her arms and looking superior. “You’re in the Darklands now, my witchy friend. You have to pray to the right gods.”

I scowled at her, trying the spell again with the same result. After the third failed attempt, Carnon stopped me with a gentle hand to my arm.

“Would it hurt to try what Cerridwen is suggesting, Red?” he asked, gesturing to the makeshift altar that was currently devoid of magic. “What do you have to lose?”

“Fine,” I said, sighing and blowing out the candles to start over. “Tell me how your version goes.”

Cerridwen repeated the prayer, this time with three additional lines I had never heard before. She repeated it a few times until I had it memorized. The words were strange, and held no meaning for me, but I repeated them in my mind as I turned back to my altar and took a deep breath.

“In the name of the Lady of the Moon,

And the Lord of Death and Resurrection.

In the name of the Mighty Ones of the Four Quarters,

The Kings of the Elements.

Blessed be this place, and this time,

And they who are now with us."

This time, the candles flared to life on their own, and Cerridwen shot me a smug gaze before we all turned our attention to the mirror. I said the words of invocation again, picturing Mama as clearly as I could. The surface of the mirror turned cloudy.

“Mama,” I called, hoping she could somehow hear me through the mirror. Her face appeared, and I gasped. She looked older and more haggard than when I had left, her eyes and cheekbones sunken and her copper hair greasy and unkempt.

“No,” I whispered, leaning closer to the surface of the mirror to try to make out where she was. It was impossible to tell. There was only blackness around her, and though she was awake, she wasn’t moving or speaking. It was like looking at a still image across a great distance, and I shouted a few more times before Carnon put his hand over mine.

“Elara,” he said gently. “She can’t hear you.”

“She’s hurt,” I said, voice cracking on a near sob. “Or sick. She didn’t look like this a week ago.”

“I know,” Carnon said, putting a steadying hand on my hip. “And I promise we will find her. But you need to dispel the magic now, in case your grandmother senses it.”

I nodded, knowing he was right, and taking a final long look at my mother before whispering, “The spell is cast.”

The image disappeared and the candles snuffed out at once, leaving the circle empty of magic once more. The mirror shattered, the cost of the magic that allowed me to see her.

“Who is her grandmother?” asked Herne, who had been watching from the doorway. His horns looked particularly sharp in this light, and his eyes were gazing hard at me.

Carnon scrubbed his hand over his face. “Shit.”

“What?” Cerridwen asked, looking between me and Carnon. “Who is she?” I swallowed, looking at Carnon, who looked back with resigned dismay.

“The Crone is Elara’s grandmother,” Carnon said, turning to Herne and stepping in front of me in a semi-defensive posture. Herne’s face turned red as he began to splutter in anger and shock.

“She’s what?” he growled, taking a step toward us. Akela, who had been absent throughout the baking and spellcasting, must have sensed trouble. He prowled toward Herne from the living room, growling faintly as if to warn him to back down.

“I can explain,” Carnon said calmly, putting up two hands as if to prevent Herne from stepping closer.

“You brought the Crone’s granddaughter here?” Herne growled. “To my house. Where my mate lives.”

“She can’t get past the shields that surround the Bloodwood,” Carnon said, his gaze turning into something sharp and icy. It must have been a trick of the light, because he seemed to grow more broad and menacing as he stared down Herne in front of me. “And I would never put Cerridwen in danger.”

Herne growled again, and I felt that tiny stab of jealousy over whatever lay in the past between Carnon and Cerridwen, despite his assurances that there was nothing, before she stepped between all of us.

“For the sake of the Goddess, my love, calm yourself,” she said to Herne, putting a delicate hand on his arm. It seemed to make him deflate a bit, and he pulled her close to him protectively.

“I want her out of here,” he growled, pointing at me.