Page 6 of Bedrest Blues & Otherworldly Clues (Mystical Midlife in Maine #17)
T he small victory of finding purpose while confined to bed didn't last long.
By the next morning, I'd developed a new routine.
I woke up and stared at the ceiling. Then I tried not to feel completely useless while everyone else dealt with magical threats.
That day marked day five of my imprisonment.
The only difference was that I'd convinced Aidon to let me have a corkboard brought in so I could at least map out defense strategies.
"If I can't join the fight physically, I can still contribute intellectually," I'd argued. "My brain works fine even if my body is temporarily out of commission."
He'd relented, though reluctantly. Now the board leaned against the wall opposite my bed. It was covered in notes, drawings, and ideas. It gave me something to focus on besides my growing frustration.
I was halfway through sketching a new ward configuration when I noticed something odd on my bedroom ceiling.
At first, I thought it was a trick of the light.
It started as an odd visual distortion. It was like the watery mirage that danced above stones in a dry riverbed.
As I narrowed my eyes to focus, the distortion crystallized into clear patterns.
Intricate symbols materialized and vanished in coordinated waves, following some unseen rhythm.
"What the hell?" I muttered as I struggled to prop myself up for a better look.
They formed concentric triangles with strange runes between them. If my gut was right, they were tracking something. I placed a hand on my belly and felt the triplets shift. Simultaneously, the symbols brightened in response. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and dialed Aidon.
"Is everything alright?" His voice was tense with immediate concern.
"Don't panic, but there's something on our ceiling you need to see." I’d barely gotten the words out, and the line went dead.
The sound of pounding feet filled the house, and he was standing in our doorway in under thirty seconds. Shadows were swirling around him as he stalked across the room. His eyes immediately lifted to where I was pointing.
"How long has that been there?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
"I just noticed it. But the way it's responding to the babies' movements, I'm guessing it's been tracking them for a while." I opted to tell him exactly what I thought. I needed him to handle this one since I was on magical lockdown.
Aidon's shadows expanded and reached toward the ceiling. The moment they touched the symbols, they scattered like startled birds. It reformed in a slightly different position. “They don’t feel malevolent, but I’ve never encountered anything like it,” he reluctantly admitted.
"Get Mom and Jean-Marc," I said. "And Clio. She should know since this could be affecting the babies."
Aidon nodded grimly and disappeared. Within minutes, my bedroom had become command central. Mom examined the ceiling with narrowed eyes, while Jean-Marc consulted a thick, leather-bound tome he'd brought with him.
"I’d say Phoebe is right in a way. It seems to be gathering information," Mom concluded after several probing spells.
"No doubt she figured out a way to record the babies' magical signatures," Nana added from the door as she walked in.
"Can you remove them and sever any connection?" I asked.
Mom shook her head. "Watch." She directed a burst of cleansing magic at the symbols. They scattered again, only to reform on the adjacent wall. "It just relocates. Traditional dispelling doesn't work."
"And there's no magical residue we can trace," Nana added darkly. "I hate to say it, but Lyra is ten steps ahead of us."
"Of course, the bitch is," I said. Her name was bitter on my tongue.
Jean-Marc glanced up from his book with a grim expression. "I've been researching similar cases. There are historical accounts of witches targeted specifically during pregnancy." He hesitated, clearly weighing whether to continue.
"Tell me," I insisted. "I need to know what we're dealing with."
He sighed, turning the book toward me. The pages showed disturbing illustrations of rituals performed on pregnant witches.
"These ancient texts describe rituals that can only be performed on pregnant witches carrying powerful offspring.
The unborn children act as magical conduits, amplifying certain types of dark magic beyond normal limits. "
"And these symbols?" I gestured toward the ceiling, feeling sick.
"They're monitoring devices, cataloging the babies' potential.
The more powerful the offspring, the more valuable they are for these rituals.
" He flipped to another page showing similar runes.
"According to this account from 1687, a coven in Prague discovered such markings above a witch's bed. Three days later, she disappeared."
The silence that followed was suffocating. "She's not getting anywhere near Phoebe," Mom said finally. I’d never heard that much steel in her voice before. She had firsthand knowledge of what happened when you fell into Lyra’s hands.
"Absolutely not," Aidon agreed as his shadows darkened the room. "We'll take shifts. Someone is going to stay with her at all times."
I wanted to protest—to insist I could protect myself—but then the glass of water on my nightstand suddenly levitated.
It wasn't me doing it. The water floated across the room and smacked Nana in the shoulder.
A moment later, the blanket at the foot of the bed unfolded itself and flew at Aidon. Everyone stared.
"That's... new," I said, watching as the book Jean-Marc had been reading flew into the hallway.
"It’s the babies," Clio murmured as she approached cautiously. "They're reacting to Phoebe’s emotions."
As if to demonstrate, when she moved too quickly to examine me, a pillow flew up between us like a shield. Clio stepped back, and the pillow dropped. "Well, that's going to complicate things," Mom observed dryly.
Clio nodded. "You need to stop them. It’s your job to protect them from themselves."
"How do I discipline my unborn children?" I asked. “I can’t exactly put them in a time-out.”
Jean-Marc got up to retrieve his book. "I'll keep researching. There must be a way to counteract these monitoring symbols without triggering their relocation protocol."
"Nana and I will examine your maternity clothes," Mom added. "Lyra may have discovered a way to hide traces of her magic in them."
The meeting continued, with strategies proposed and dismissed. Throughout it all, the symbols on the ceiling pulsed in time with the babies' movements. I avoided looking at them. I was disturbed by the thought of Lyra collecting data on my children before they were even born.
After everyone had left, Aidon remained. He perched on the edge of the bed. His fingers intertwined with mine. Their familiar coolness soothed my frayed nerves. "We'll figure this out," he promised. "No harm will come to you or our children."
I wanted to believe him. But the nagging feeling that we were missing something crucial wouldn't leave me. "I hate feeling like a sitting duck," I admitted. "If I could just?—"
"No," he interrupted gently. "Clio was very clear about what would happen if you used significant magic right now."
I glared at him. "I was going to say 'if I could just understand what Lyra's planning’. I was not about to suggest I try to shut that shit down."
His lips quirked into the ghost of a smile. "Fair enough. Though knowing you, a magical showdown wasn't far behind."
"True," I conceded, returning his smile briefly before sobering. "But seriously, Aidon, we need to understand her endgame. These symbols, the corrupted wards, the surveillance devices—they're all part of something bigger."
"We will find answers," he assured me. "If anyone can uncover ancient magical references, it's us. Especially, your family and our kids."
I nodded, though doubt still gnawed at me. "And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, I'm not leaving your side." His declaration was punctuated by him checking the windows.
"You can't stay forever," I pointed out.
"Watch me," he challenged. His eyes glittered with determination.
The fierceness of his protection both comforted and frustrated me.
I understood his fear. I shared it, but being treated like fragile glass was wearing on my last nerve.
Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, the bedroom door burst open.
Mythia buzzed in. Her wings were beating so rapidly that they were nearly invisible.
Her normally rosy complexion was pale with worry.
"The ley lines," she gasped without preamble. "They're shifting!"
Aidon was on his feet instantly. "What? Where?"
"Everywhere," she replied, landing on the dresser. "I was tending the eastern garden when I felt the first fluctuation. The currents are behaving erratically. They started flowing backward. Then they split into new channels and doubled back on themselves. I have no idea what’s happening."
"That shouldn't be possible," I said as alarm sharpened my voice. "Ley lines are set by geographical and magical constants."
"Not anymore," Mythia shook her head. "It's as if the magical bedrock itself is being reshaped."
Aidon's expression darkened. "The wards?—"
"Are already being affected," Mythia confirmed. "The anchor points your father cleansed yesterday are destabilizing again. Only they aren’t being poisoned this time. It's like the foundation they're built on is shifting beneath them."
I struggled to sit up straighter as my mind raced. "This could be catastrophic. If the ley lines continue to change, we'll never maintain stable defenses. We'd have to constantly reconfigure the protection grid."
"Precisely," Mythia said. "And that's assuming we can track the changes quickly enough to adapt. "