Rejected Mate and Following Fate

We move fast, making light work of scaling the stairs, getting through the house and down into the secret passage to the underground via the library nook that used to be Colton’s and I’s bedroom. Just seeing this room, free of our things and our bed, almost breaks me in two. My soul throbbing with the loss of his presence and the knowing I won’t be able to see or touch him until we do something about this curse.

I feel like he’s gone somehow, that I’ve lost him to something I don’t know how to fight and this room where we began, where he first marked me, stabs deep into my heart and soul and wounds me to the core. My anxiety and pain rising up like bile in my throat that threatens to choke me and I have to heavily inhale to push all the chaos down to my inner depths to stay calm. I stifle a sob as Sierra pulls back the concealed door behind where the bed used to sit, and Meadow grasps my hand in comfort, her own face ashen and stiff.

“We will save them. We have to. They’re our pack, our mates…our hearts. We’ll bring them home, back where they belong. With us!” Meadow can feel, and shares, my devastation and it’s mirrored back at me, not only visually, but in her emotions swirling around me. I nod tearfully and cling to her fingers as we follow Sierra down into the dark musty passage that stings my nose with its aged smell, and I blink away the dust of centuries of sleeping airless surroundings.

With a click of her fingers, she ignites the wall mounted blue flamed torches around us to an eerie glow, lit by her magic, it illuminates the winding narrow passageway as we make our way beneath the homestead to the secret rooms below which feel unearthly and icy. This almost dungeon like lair has always fascinated me but yet always scared me too so Colton usually only comes here with her as I tend to avoid it.

It has an aura, an ambience of unease. Like it harnesses so many souls of the past with so much power and energy in its confines in the ground below the house. I can almost feel the eyes of spirits taking note as we venture in and it raises all the hairs across my skin as I goosebump in reaction. The room is large and dull, despite the many candles flickering with that familiar witchy blue that makes me think of Colton, and I dart my eyes to take in the room and shake him from my head. If I let him linger then I won’t find the strength to carry on.

The shelves are formed from ceiling to floor on every wall, crammed with generations of spell books, and a vast array of potions and bottles, and weird things in jars. Nothing touched by age as this room magically stays sealed to any form of interference when not in use and you can only come in here with a gifted touch. Witch blood is needed to open the door and light the torches. You can’t get in otherwise, so I presume much like our rune border, this has some kind of protective spell holding it timeless and still as the years tick by.

“Don’t touch any books unless I hand them to you. Grimoires are special and can bite. You need a witch’s permission to touch one.” Sierra makes haste and lifts two huge leather bound books from a low shelf, handing one to me and one to Meadow, nodding towards the long center table that looks like it’s had much use over the years. It has stools tucked in all around each side and the worn imprint of many decades of witches sitting here to browse and learn from these ancient texts. Sierra told me that when her family was plentiful and had many offspring, they used this room as a witch school and taught them everything about their own gifts. Sierra came here as a child to learn about her gifts too but as she was the last of her bloodline, it was left to sit quietly alone and wait for a new purpose.

I take my book to one end of the roughened, stained, dark surface and lay it down carefully. A huge old somewhat unidentifiable book, bound expertly, and strangely ornate. I flick it open to reveal the pages inside which are yellowed and worn along the edges, some are splattered with drops and smudges that hints at a great many uses. Handwritten in black ink in a beautiful scroll, mostly English, but it varies. My Spanish sucks and this is a bilingual spell book pushing more to the other language than my own.

“I can’t read this.” I point out, lifting my eyes to settle on Sierra who seems to be looking along the rows for a specific book herself and she turns to me with a patient smile.

“Grimoires are enchanted…. don’t look…feel. Ask the book to help you, push your emotion to its very core. See what it gives you.” Sierra nods at us before bringing her armful of six smaller books to the table and pulls out a stool to begin with her own search. She looks as determined as Meadow does, who already has her pages flicking fast and furiously as she scans the words. Meadow lifts her chin and frowns at me as though she thinks Sierra is a bit mental for telling us to feel rather than read the pages and I shrug, telling her to do as she asks. I stare down at my book and focus all my thoughts and energy on a little faith.

Please show me how to help bring my pack home. How to bring my mate back to me. I utter the words inside my head and lay my palms flat on the open pages. Sighing as I do so and jump as the edge of the next page lifts and tries to move under my restrictive hold. I yank my hands back in shock that it actually made it do something and watch in awe and horror as the pages begin to flip over in this windless room. They move fast as though caught in the throes of a gust of vicious wind and seem to hasten as it progresses. I swallow down my saliva and choke on the sudden dryness of my mouth.

Even though I have been around witchcraft and seen Sierra and Colton practicing together, this still is an alien sight to me, and I recoil and muffle a gasp as it flips harder and harder. Picking up speed like it might fly off the table at any second, getting halfway through the book before the pages fall open with an almighty thud that makes me flinch and jump.

Sierra scrapes her chair across the floor quickly and comes to me, obviously excited that the first book I tried gave me some sort of answer. She seems oblivious to how abnormal this is, and I wonder at how often she has seen a book do this with wide eyed wariness.

The two pages open in front of me are in some foreign language I don’t recognize, not Spanish, and I squint at it and lean closer in a bid to understand. They look like symbols of some sort and cover the pages fully, all over, some even running up the edge and not following regular lines of a book.

“What are they?” I ask quizzically as Sierra leans and scrolls her fingers along the inky decorative images. Meadow gets up and comes to peer over my shoulder and we fall silent as Sierra focuses.

“Runes. Some sigils. Much like what are etched into the stones buried around our land. Protection…. mostly about keeping things out. I don’t understand why this…..” She sighs and turns the book to face her to get a better look. Seemingly unsure why of all the pages, this one seems to want us to read it. Her expression falls a little with obvious disappointment that she doesn’t seem to be finding the answers we need.

“So it’s the spell to make the rune border?” Meadow interjects flatly, probably also wondering how this is meant to help us now, and Sierra nods, shrugging with confusion that the book would show us this. It’s not exactly useful given our pack are already bewitched on the other side of it.

“Maybe it wants us to reinforce the border? Maybe it’s a sign we should be focusing on protecting ourselves first, maybe another spell is coming.” I blow out air in frustration, clawing for reasons and Sierra squints and leans into the book to read it for a second time. Her brow furrowing harshly and her mouth pinches up, making it obvious she really wants to see more than just that.

“No, the runes don’t fade. The spell will outlast all of us and for the time being we don’t want to extend it, although now we know we can….. I just don’t…. wait! Of course!!” Sierra’s hands fly to her mouth as she covers a gasp that escapes loudly, and she throws us a wide eyed look.

and I begin tapping my foot on the

excitedly; at a little symbol that looks like it was burned into the page with hot metal.

have human life spans then it’s probably not reasonable to think she lives still. Meadow sits down on the stool next to me, her energy wavering as she too comes to the same conclusion and I’m engulfed with her extreme sadness and stress. Her mind on her mate, much like mine is, and desperate for Sierra to explain seeing as she has latched onto this ray of hope,

themselves and much like everything she does, it’s powerful, flawless, and unbreakable. Much like her. She’s the most powerful witch I have ever known.” Sierra’s awe and deep respect for this person shines through her

Witches only have human life spans. What if she is the one behind the fog? You said no witch could pull off that spell…could she? Can we trust this Bruja” Meadow interjects, a hint of doubt and fear rising in her voice as

walked away from that. She’s solitary and marches to her own beat, and yes, immortal. She’s over three thousand years old, give or take and no one knows exactly why. Rumor has it her father is some sort of druid lord, and

how do we find her?” Meadow props one hand on the table to slide

well, maybe. She travels a lot. But

get in touch? I balk. “Do you think she has Facebook? Do witches social network? A cell number….an email?” I sigh in defeat and rub my fingers on my temples to try and combat the brewing stress migraine

the book as though

Meadow cuts in sharply. Getting

wall of bottles and pulls out one small vial with a glowing white liquid that sparkles like liquid glitter. It looks like a fake bottle for a

that?” I blink at it, lifting myself up to sit upright once more and push off my fatigue and despair, as the soft glow illuminates the space around it, and she lays it on the table. Acting like

elixir, which contains Leyanne’s own tears. She made it for my grandmother when she needed ailment. I’m not sure what it does, but I used to play with this because it’s so pretty and was scolded so many times. A witch’s tears are a powerful thing and they only gift them to people they trust.” Sierra touches it once more, lovingly, and then retracts her hands and stares at it as though somehow it will magically transform into something amazing. I just see a bottle of liquid

it, how do we ‘locate’ her.” I ask tentatively, air emphasizing the word with my fingers. Sierra sighs and presses her palms to her chest,

at me and I blanche as I click on what she means exactly. The night Sierra crept into my room to bind us for eternity and protect me from Juan. She used a spell to know exactly where I was that night and now that’s the same spell we need to find this witch. A vague feeling of full circle claws at the back of my mind and

feet and ready to do something more than sitting here and I nod in agreement. Sliding up from my

like this one, with a dark vine wrapped around to keep it shut. Leyanne is a witch of nature so it suits. It’s where I learned the spell and I know it’s here. No one ever removes the books, not that they can. The stairwell won’t let a book

not to actually touch them, something tugging me to my left, and I let it

shelf, almost concealed by shadow because of

out to Sierra, pointing down and she looks around and gasps in

would think you’re part witch. The books are calling to you as though you are.” She beams at me joyfully and I frown it away and go back to the table as she slides it free. Remembering we can’t touch without her say

glare is not very respectful towards her Rema. I giggle at Meds, an argument we have had in the house library many times and it warms me out of my cold sadness for a few seconds. She believes in the sanctity of books and keeping them pristine, while I’m a page

as though she’s just been incredibly rude, accusing her of a heinous crime and scans the words quickly, nodding to herself as it refreshes

the world, seeing as we are looking much further than I ever had to. There’s one on that wall, bring it.” She nods to Meadow who obediently goes and takes down a large, aged print of the world, in one clear space of wall by the stair way door. Sierra pulls off the long necklace she wears daily, a chain that almost reaches her waist and a pointed quartz crystal that hangs from it, pulling the chain together and holding it halfway

She is careful not to touch her stone again and lets it hang over the map and still by itself as she concentrates and regulates her breathing to keep her hand

clicks her fingers and all four light immediately, with blue flame much like the passageway and lighting in here. She holds her pendulum still over the center of the map, closes her eyes as her hands begin to glow blue and travel up as far as her elbows. She stays motionless and still as a statue as she softly utters the words with a faint breath that we

me,

terram, mare caeli

manus, trahere lux mea, et

fas est inveniet

it up like a bright beacon that scalds my eyes and I squint to adjust to its brightness. The tip that was dipped in the potion turns a