Page 21

CHAPTER 21

SAINT

W hen Nan shakes herself out of her shock, she whips her head up to look at us. “Where did you get this?” When neither of us says anything, Nan grabs my hand and barks, “Saint. It’s important. I need you to tell me where you found this.”

“We found it in the crypt of an old church in France. Why? What’s wrong?” I’ve never seen Nan this frantic. Her wide eyes are darting around the room like she expects someone to jump out of the shadows to attack us.

“What’s wrong is you have ingredients for a potion that has been outlawed, for good reason, for a thousand years,” she whispers.

“What does it do?” Briar asks, her icy-blue eyes wide in alarm. “And why was it banned?”

Nan exhales harshly before hurrying to the door. She slams it closed and mutters a spell under her breath too quiet for me to hear. I feel magic electrifying the air before a light green dome the color of Nan’s magic shimmers into existence above us.

When she returns to stand in front of us, she pins us with a serious stare as she debates what to say. “It’s a potion for completely removing the magic of a person or object.” Her gray eyes that look almost identical to my dad’s did turn flinty, daring us to argue.

I have the signature McAlister gray eyes like my dad and Nan, but I get my brown hair from my mom. My parents always said I was a perfect mix of the two of them. Thinking about them causes my chest to ache. I rub my palm over the spot like that will alleviate it, but nothing really does. The pain from losing my parents will always be with me, but time has made it hurt, perhaps not less overall, but less intensely.

Briar gasps. She then looks up at me with a hope written across her heart-shaped face I haven’t seen from her in a long time. “If we find who or what is powering the curse, we can use the potion to stop them.”

I grin at her because she’s exactly right. If we can strip the magic from the spell, then female wolves get the ability to shift back. And the Knights won’t be able to expand the spell, at least for now. While the potion will solve the immediate problem of destroying the curse, there’s no guarantee the Knights won’t be able to create a new one. It’s a Band-Aid fix, but it’s more than we had before.

I open my mouth to agree with her, but Nan cuts in, her tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “No, absolutely not. Neither of you will ever be using this spell.” Her tone brooks no argument. While Nan seems like a sweet old lady on the outside, she has an iron will and doesn’t take shit from anyone. I was not a fan of that when I was a troublemaking teenager, but I admire her for it now.

Briar’s shoulders slump, and her face falls. “Why?”

My heart pangs uncomfortably seeing how defeated Briar looks. Having to fulfill a prophecy to save an entire species is a heavy burden for anyone, much less a twenty-one-year-old who lived a huge chunk of her life without knowing supernaturals existed. I wish I could take the stress and responsibility from Briar, but I can’t. All I can do is be there for her and help share the load, at least when she lets me.

“Because it requires a sacrifice. Whoever is using the potion has to give their life up for it to work. Magic this dark never comes without a price.” Nan stares sightlessly at the crumpled papers in her hands, lost in her thoughts.

Briar gasps at the information.

My forehead crinkles in confusion. “What do you mean ‘magic this dark’?”

Dark or black magic is something straight out of human movies. In real life, all magic is neutral. Sure, some spells are nastier than others, but I’ve never heard of any forbidden magic before.

Nan lets out a weary sigh. Instead of answering, she goes over to a bookshelf tucked in the far corner. Rummaging around for a moment, she eventually pulls out an old, weathered book. Its worn leather binding is ripped, and the pages look like they’re barely holding on. Setting the thick tome down on the center table, Nan motions us over.

Briar stares at the book with apprehension, like it’s going to bite her if she gets too close. Intertwining my fingers with hers, I squeeze her comfortingly. That seems to snap Briar out of whatever she was thinking about. Blowing out a breath, she squares her shoulders and marches over to the book, dragging me along with her.

That’s one of the things I love about Briar. Even when she’s scared and overwhelmed and feeling defeated, she still keeps putting one foot in front of the other. She gives it her all, even when she’s sure it won’t be enough. That type of courage and determination takes an inner strength that few have. I couldn’t be prouder to call her my mate.

I just have to hope I can make her as proud to call me hers. After my parents died and Briar left, I stopped caring what happened to me. I started drinking too much, picking fights, street racing, getting involved with some pretty bad people, and doing stupid shit I shouldn’t. I did a lot of things I still regret.

My actions didn’t just hurt me, they also hurt the people left that still cared about me. I know nothing I can do can really make up for all the heartache and worry I caused Nan and the Wards over the years, but I’m trying to make amends. And I’m trying to put all of that behind me to be the man that Briar deserves.

When we reach the table, Nan opens the book, its old spine creaking in protest at the movement. Leaning over to see it better, I realize the book isn’t written in English. I can’t see exactly what language it’s in, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s in Latin.

“This book has been passed down through the generations in our family,” Nan tells us. “It’s a detailed history of the McAlister family witches, the villages and towns we’ve lived in, including Hawthorne Grove, and mages as a whole. Mages didn’t used to have a ruling council like what we have now. Because of the council, much of our history and traditions have been lost.”

“Wait. I thought the council dated back to the time of the first mage village?” At least that’s what the council tells us. Every young mage knows our founding story by heart. The first mage was outcast from her town for being different, so she created a mage village with a council to rule it.

Nan gives me a sad smile and shakes her head. “As you both know, the first mage was born different from all those around her. She couldn’t turn into an animal, nor could she absorb power through blood. She didn’t get power through bargains, nor did she have features of the other magical species that roamed the earth. Instead, her power was fueled by her innate, pure magic, something no one had seen before. Because she was different, the first mage was cruelly cast out from her village. She spent many years wandering from place to place, plagued by loneliness, until she heard reports of children like her being born all over.

“Not wanting those children to suffer the same fate she had, the first mage began collecting the unwanted children to raise herself. Peace between the mages she raised persisted while she was alive. But her death ushered in an era of war, destruction, and near extinction for mages due to the infighting. What the council wants you to believe is that it was created to control this violence. The truth is that they were the cause of it all.”

I see Briar’s eyes widen in surprise as she gapes at Nan. I’m sure mine are just as huge as I try to process everything she just said.

“How were they the cause of it all?” I ask. I’ve always been fascinated with history, but I never thought there was much to learn about mages. It always seemed so dull and almost too perfect. It makes sense that the council was hiding all of this behind a boring founding story.

“A select few of her adopted children grew jealous of the power of others. While they all had the ability to shape raw magic, some of them needed rituals and implements to focus their power. Those that required assistance couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being ‘better’ than them. So, some of them banded together and used their combined power to overtake and rule mages. While their shared power was considerable, it wasn’t an easy fight, stretching throughout the millennia. Up until a thousand or so years ago, the mage council was still fighting for control.”

“How did they finally get control?” I interject.

“With the same type of dark magic they’ve forbidden anyone else from using. The forbidden magic is much like the type of magic some mages used to possess. It works without any phrase to focus your power. Instead, it relies on only your power and how committed you are,” Nan explains.

Briar’s gaze lights with understanding as she says, “So they used this potion to strip the more powerful mages the council was fighting of their magic?”

Nan shakes her head. “No, because none of them were willing to die for their cause. However, they considered it.”

With everything Nan is telling us, I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never heard it before and how she seems to be so well-versed in it. “How do you know all this, Nan?”

Pursing her lips, Nan looks down for a moment before flicking her gaze back to us. “I know it because our family was on the side of the council throughout their fight. It was only your many times great-grandmother who finally stood up to them and used this potion to strip her father of his magic. Her journal has been passed down through the women in our family and added to in order to keep the history and knowledge alive. I hope you understand that neither of you can breathe a word of this to another mage.”

I’ve never particularly liked the council, and they’ve never bothered me. But every mage knows the consequences of defying the council. A mage who is deemed in violation of the laws they create is always sentenced to death. If word got out that we knew the real history and had a forbidden potion, the mage council wouldn’t stop coming for us until they killed us.

I nod solemnly. “We understand, Nan. If this is a family potion recipe, how did it end up in a crypt in France?”

“It is not unique to the McAlister family.” Nan closes the old book gently and pushes it to the center of the table. “It is a general recipe from the times before the council. Many mages once knew how to make this potion, but few ever thought using it was worth the sacrifice.”

We stand in silence for a long moment, absorbing everything Nan told us. Briar seems to shake herself out of her thoughts and looks at Nan with determination. “Will you make the potion for us?”

I clench my jaw at Briar’s request. Whoever uses it has to give up their life for it. I’d rather let the Knights win and find another way to break the curse than Briar use the potion. My world revolves around her, and nothing else really matters if she isn’t here. I’d burn down the entire world with a smile on my face if that’s what it took to keep her safe.

Nan vehemently shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I will not have either of my grandchildren using this potion. Nothing could ever be worth the price.”

Briar’s cheeks flush at Nan calling her one of her grandchildren. She dips her head in embarrassment, but I don’t know why she’s so surprised. Nan has always loved her like her own.

Scrubbing a hand over her face, Briar looks back up at Nan pleadingly. “I don’t plan to use it, even as a last resort. But there has to be a reason it was included in the crypt only I could find. Maybe the diary entry says we’re supposed to trick Ryker into using it. Or maybe the potion is a component that opens a secret door. There are tons of reasons for that potion that don’t involve any of us dying.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Nan protests, but I can see her resolve weakening at hearing Briar’s reasoning.

“It’s too dangerous to be unprepared and not have every tool we need when we confront Ryker. I could make this potion, but who knows if I’ll make it right. We could need it and have it not work because I’m not an expert like you.” Briar gives Nan her best puppy dog eyes, which are really damn good. I’m glad she doesn’t bust those out often, because I would cave to her every demand.

But let’s be real here. I already cave to pretty much anything she wants. I always have. When we were kids, I’d always get Briar whatever stuffed animals, treats, or books she wanted. We’re adults now, but my instinctual need to get her whatever she wants hasn’t really changed.

Nan huffs a laugh. “No need for flattery, dearie. I’ve already decided to help you. You make a compelling point. Do not make me regret trusting your word, Briar Rose.”

Briar’s face breaks into a huge grin. It fades from her breathtakingly beautiful face as she nods somberly. “I won’t, Nan, I swear it.”