Page 10 of Bedrest Blues & Otherworldly Clues (Mystical Midlife in Maine #17)

S leep finally claimed me after everyone left my bedroom.

The excitement of the afternoon had pulled me into a slumber I didn’t think I would find.

I dreamed of shadows that writhed and whispered.

Of ancient beings clawing their way through thinning barriers between worlds.

And of Lyra standing over three tiny cradles with hunger in her eyes.

I jerked awake with a gasp. My heart was hammering against my ribs. The room was dark except for slivers of moonlight peeking through the curtains. The clock on my nightstand said it was after three in the morning. Everyone else was presumably asleep. Or on patrol duty along the property perimeter.

A flutter of movement in my belly reminded me I wasn't truly alone. Nyssa seemed to be responding to my anxiety if the shadows suddenly deepening in the corner of the room were anything to go by. "It's okay," I whispered, stroking my swollen belly. "Just a nightmare."

But was it? The dream had felt too real, too vivid.

It felt like a warning. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important there if only I could grasp it.

I reached for the glass of water beside my bed, but my hand knocked against it instead.

It toppled over the edge and I braced for the crash.

It never came. Instead, the glass froze midair.

It remained suspended by a blue-tinted shimmer.

"Thanks, Thaniel," I murmured, recognizing my son's power. Carefully, I plucked the glass from its frozen state and set it safely back on the nightstand.

Restlessness gnawed at me. I hated being confined to this bed, regardless of anything else going on around me. It was even worse while everyone else was working to protect us. There had to be some way I could contribute without endangering the pregnancy.

My gaze drifted to the vanity mirror across the room. Something about its reflective surface caught my attention. There was a subtle shimmer that didn't match the moonlight. On impulse, I focused my awareness toward it and reached out with my Pleiades magic in the gentlest way possible.

The surface of the mirror rippled like disturbed water before it cleared to show the kitchen downstairs.

Mom was there, surrounded by open books and scrolls.

There was a cup of either blood or mint tea cooling at her elbow as she pored over a massive leather-bound tome.

It was the family grimoire Nina had started for us after I got my magic.

She’d added countless spells, rituals, and potions in the thing so it was fairly full for being so new.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she was taking notes on a yellow legal pad.

This unexpected window was startling. I had no idea how it happened and wanted to open my mouth and ask if she had any idea. Mom looked up as if sensing she was being watched. Her eyes narrowed, and she scanned the kitchen before returning to her research.

"What the hell?" I whispered, fascinated. I hadn't consciously cast any spell, yet somehow, I was viewing another part of the house without leaving my bed.

Curious, I shifted my focus to my dresser mirror. It too rippled, then revealed the living room where Nana was dozing in an armchair. There was a shotgun across her lap. I had no doubt the shells in the thing were spelled. Even in sleep, she looked formidable.

Concerned I was actually using magic, I paused and did a self-check.

The power expenditure felt minimal. It was nothing like the magical drain that would normally come with casting a surveillance spell.

This felt more like an extension of my natural senses.

It required almost no effort to maintain.

Was this another gift from my Pleiades heritage?

Or perhaps an adaptive response to my current predicament?

Maybe my magic was finding ways to keep me connected despite my physical limitations.

I experimented further, directing my attention to the small hand mirror on my nightstand.

It showed the front porch, where Stella and Aidon stood in quiet conversation.

Their breath fogged in the night air as they surveyed the darkness beyond our wards.

"—can't be a coincidence," Stella was saying.

Her voice came through faintly as if from a distance.

"There have been three attacks in three days. And each tested a different section."

"Agreed," Aidon replied. "Lyra's probing for weaknesses and learning from our responses."

"The shifters took the brunt of it today. Tseki's still recovering from those burns."

My breath caught. Tseki was injured? When had that happened?

I'd heard nothing about any attack. A surge of anger washed through me when I realized they were keeping things from me.

Yeah, they were shielding the pregnant woman from stress.

I understood their reasoning, but it stung nonetheless.

If there had been attacks, I needed to know.

I turned my attention back to the kitchen mirror.

Mom was still there, but now Jean-Marc had joined her.

He looked haggard as he poured himself coffee despite the ungodly hour.

He had been home from college longer than he should have been.

He must be missing assignments or tests.

I appreciated his help, but I worried nonetheless.

"Find anything?" he asked, collapsing into a chair across from Mom.

Mom rubbed her eyes. "Too much and not enough. Hattie's grimoire confirms what Persephone told us about the Forgotten Ones.” She tapped the grimoire we had inherited from Hattie, the woman who had seen something in me and saved my life by giving me her Pleiades magic.

“But it adds some disturbing details,” she continued. “They're conceptual entities that predate our understanding of everything."

Jean-Marc frowned. "Meaning?"

"They embody magic in its rawest form. The ones Tseki encountered today were lesser servants, but dangerous enough. The Burns that Wind, The Eyes that Pierce, and The Hunger that Walks. Ancient texts barely mention them because they were considered too dangerous to name or describe."

"Yet Lyra has them dancing to her tune," Jean-Marc said bitterly. "How?"

"She's promised them something only the Trifecta ritual can provide.

A chance to return to earth. She likely promised she would establish rules that favored them.

" Mom's voice was heavy with concern. "The current magical hierarchy—gods, demigods, witches, shifters—it's all relatively recent in cosmic terms. The Forgotten Ones remember a time when power flowed more chaotically. "

"And they want that chaos back," Jean-Marc concluded. "With themselves at the top of whatever emerges from it."

"Precisely." Mom sighed, flipping pages in the grimoire. "The most worrying thing is what Tseki reported about their abilities. They were able to partially negate his shifter magic. Something that should be impossible under current magical laws."

My unease deepened. If these beings could bypass established magical principles, our defenses might be more vulnerable than we'd realized.

As I pondered this, something strange caught my attention in the mirror view.

There was a darkness at the edges that didn't belong.

It moved independently of the kitchen shadows and slithered along the periphery of my magical window like ink bleeding into water.

I pulled back slightly, focusing instead on the hallway mirror.

It showed the empty corridor outside my bedroom.

Again, those strange shadows crawled at the edges of my vision.

They weren't Aidon's familiar darkness, nor Nyssa's developing shadow-play.

These moved with purpose like they were searching—or watching.

Cold fear trickled down my spine. Were these remnants of Lyra's surveillance magic?

Or something worse? I hesitated, then cautiously extended my awareness toward one of the shadows.

Bad idea. The moment my consciousness brushed against it, whatever it was recoiled like a startled snake.

Before I could take a breath, it surged toward me through the mirror.

I jerked back and broke the connection. The mirror surface returned to normal reflections.

My heart pounded as I cradled my belly protectively. The triplets stirred restlessly, and their magic pulsed in response to my fear. The bedside lamp flickered, and the curtains billowed despite the closed windows .

"Easy," I whispered, trying to calm myself and, by extension, them. "We're okay."

But were we? Those shadows felt malevolent.

And they'd noticed me watching. I needed to tell someone, but everyone was occupied with their own tasks.

Plus, I'd have to admit I'd been magically eavesdropping.

I reached for my phone, considering whether to text Aidon, when a knock at my door made me jump.

"Phoebe?" Selene's voice came softly through the wood. "Are you awake?"

"Come in," I called, relieved to have company after my unsettling discovery.

Selene slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her. Even in the dim light, the exhaustion on her face was evident. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore tactical gear streaked with what looked suspiciously like dried blood.

"What happened to you?" I demanded, immediately concerned.

"Nothing serious," she assured me, dropping into the chair beside my bed. "I was helping Murtagh's team track some unusual activity along the eastern boundary. It got a little... intense."

"Another attack?" I asked, remembering the conversation I'd overheard between Stella and Aidon.

Selene's eyes narrowed slightly. "Who told you about the attacks?"

"Nobody," I admitted. "I overheard Stella and Aidon discussing them. Also, you're covered in blood and look like you've been through a war zone. I'm pregnant, not blind."