C1 Chapter 1

The candles are lit and we are all sitting around the ouija board.

Me and the three Sexies, of course. Plus AJ and Michael.

My ex-unicorn was a last-minute decision--one motivated by his particular brand of magic. He was just glad we didn’t need his blood again.

My palms are sweating and I wipe them on my jeans as I wait for Rune to tell us how to start.

I glance over at Rain, who’s in the corner in her travel crib, worry gripping me whenever I’m not holding her, but she’s still sleeping peacefully.

While her mother sits in a pentagram trying not to look nervous.

It’s not working. I look very nervous.

This is the first time I’ve ever tried talking to the dead--on purpose at least--and there’s a lot at stake.

Rune insisted on carving the ouija board himself after AJ suggested we ‘ring up Nanny or Gramps on the ol’ ouija’ to find out what the letter means, what we should do about my glow-in-the-dark powers, and what they know about my dad.

Kind of a lot to ask from someone trying to enjoy the afterlife.

Much discussion has been had about the mysterious letter I found from my grandfather, predicting his own death as a murder and directing me to Budapest to find my father who I thought was dead. None of us, not even my all-knowing Sexies, has a clue what to make of it. How much, if any, can be believed?

So when AJ suggested we use her old ouija board from high school, everyone agreed it could work, but not with that ‘crude mimicry of true magic.’ Rune’s words, not mine.

And now here we are. In the basement of the pub, surrounded by cobwebs and boxes of storage, with dust coating everything, we are having a seance.

AJ squirms, then leans in to look at the board. Again. “It’s just wicked crazy,” she says for the zillionth time. “I see something different in the wood depending on how I look at it.”

Rune smiles, pleased by the compliment to his craftsmanship.

AJ glances up, squinting. “It’s like those trippy paintings. The ones that have a shape when you squint.”

“What is the matter with your eyes?” Rune asks. “Are you experiencing discomfort?”

AJ bursts out laughing and punches the fae in the shoulder. “You elves have no sense of humor.”

Rune just blinks.

I clear my throat. “Okay, let’s get going. How do we start?”

Darius pulls out a dagger. “We each need to give a drop of our blood to the board.”

Michael groans. “You said you didn’t need my blood this time.”

“I said we weren’t inviting you for your blood,” Darius replies. “And that is still true. But as you accepted the invitation, we now need your blood--as well as everyone else’s--to proceed. If you object, you may wait upstairs.”

With that dismissal, Darius cuts into his palm and holds it over the board, letting a drop hit the surface.

The blood sizzles and then is absorbed by the wood. I can almost hear a contented sigh coming from the board once the vampire blood is no longer visible.

Darius and Zev are flanking me, so the vampire hands me the knife next. My first thought is how unsanitary this is. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, sterilize this between each use?”

Darius rolls his eyes. “It is a blade forged with magic and dipped in the running waters of Valiace. Your methods are rudimentary in comparison.”

“Right.” I sigh and accept the dagger. With an intake of breath, I slice, flinching at the sharp shock of pain. I watch in fascination as my blood hits the board, sizzles like frying bacon, then is absorbed. Again I hear--or rather sense--that same sigh. This time it’s louder.

I pass the blade to Zev, who conducts his part of the ritual, then hands it to Rune. AJ’s next, and when it gets to Michael, we all wait to see if he will do it or leave.

I think Michael himself is the only one surprised by his choice to slice open his flesh, releasing the silvery magic that is his blood. This time, there’s an audible sigh followed by a burp, then a giggle, as Michael’s blood is taken in by the board.

I glance at Rune, who shrugs. “This board has been given life so that it may become a portal between worlds. It is the only way to get truly accurate results.”

“Are you telling me we just used our blood to make a new life form? One that can open doors to the dead?” I ask, thinking about every Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode I’ve ever watched. Which is all of them. More than once.

Rune cocks his head, his expression confused. “Did you not want to open the veil so that you could communicate with your ancestors?”

“I mean, just my grandparents, but sure, I guess. I just didn’t want to, you know, make a whole new life for it.” I glance down at the board suspiciously. “It’s creepy.”

“Well, it’s done,” says AJ. “So let’s call them!”

AJ is way too excited about all of this.

I just feel slightly nauseous.

But that could just be the bitter green wild salad Rune made me eat earlier.

Darius nods to me and I clear my throat. “Everyone, take hands.”

I close my eyes and focus my energy, trying to carefully recall the words Darius told me I must use. “By the powers of earth, air, fire, water, and spirit, I do call thee, oh ancestors of my blood. By the sacred and most holy. By the sun and the moon. By the light and the darkness, I call thee. Come to me now in my time of need. Nanny and Gramps, come to me.”

I release a breath and open my eyes, and we all lean in to place a hand on the planchette--the name for which I learned from Rune and refers to the little heart-shaped thingamabob that the spirits allegedly move to spell shit. I can’t stop thinking about how close the earth-made ouija boards are to this deftly made object created by an actual magical being.

“Are there any spirits with us tonight?” I ask, and though I’m not trying to modulate my voice into a spooky seer, it happens anyways, much to my embarrassment when AJ snickers.

Nothing happens immediately following my question, and just as I’m about to ask it again, the planchette jerks across the board and stops over the word YES.

I look around the circle, eyes wide, slightly out of breath. “Did one of you do that?”

They all shake their heads.

And I believe them. I mean, why would they try to prank me on ghosts? I already know everything is real. I’m a glowing witch, sitting in a room with a werewolf, a vampire, a fae, a sea nymph and a unicorn.

A ghost is nothing.

Still, I haven’t done this since I was a silly kid with AJ and we were trying to freak each other out. It was never this dramatic back then.

“Is this Ed--Gramps?”

It jerks to the NO.

I swallow, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

“Tilly?” I ask, a painful swelling of hope causing my voice to shake.

The planchette circles around the NO, then lands back on it.

Shit.

“Can you reach Tilly or Ed? I need to speak to them.”

Again, NO.

I lock eyes with Darius, and his voice floats into my mind like a caress. Ask if it intends harm.

I nod. “Do you intend anyone in this room harm?”

This time it lands in the middle of NO and YES.

“What does that mean?” I ask, frustrated.

It was rhetorical, mostly, but the spirit begins to answer, moving the planchette over the board with such force and speed that we all have to let go or get dragged around.

And now it’s moving on its own from letter to letter.

N-E-U-T-R-A-L

“So you have no intention one way or another?” I ask.

It moves to YES.

Darius frowns. See if it can tell you about your father.

“My grandfather left me a letter before he died telling me to go to my father. Do you know anything about that?”

YES.

My heart flutters in my chest as I struggle to think of questions that can be answered with YES or NO or a simple word.

“Is my father still alive?”

It moves to the spot between YES and NO again.

“Maybe?”

Again it circles itself and settles back on the middle spot.

“How clarifying,” I mumble.

“Should I go to Budapest to find my father?”

YES.

Ask if you will be safe, Darius insists.

“Will we be safe?”

Nothing moves for a long moment, then it begins to spell a word.

D-E-A-T-H F-O-L-L-O-W-S Y-O-U

“Death follows you,” I say. “Like, follows me to Budapest?”

Though there are no windows down here, a gust of wind blows through the room, extinguishing the magically lit candles. The floor begins to shake, and everything in the room rattles. The planchette moves around the board wildly, settling on nothing particular, then Michael stiffens, his eyes widening and going white.

“I told him,” he says, but it’s not his voice coming through his mouth.

“Nanny?” I ask, reaching across the board.

Michael/Nanny takes my hand, and I swear I feel her paper-thin skin against mine. “It is, my dear. I only have a moment. They are... pulling me back.”

“Tell me quickly,” I say. “What’s going on? Who’s my father? Who killed Gramps? What’s in Budapest.”

“I told him,” she says again. “I told him they’d come for him. But he didn’t listen. He was a part of them once. Then they came for him. But they were all too late, weren’t they?”

“Nanny, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“Find your father,” she says, eyes refocusing on me. “Find him and then you will know the truth.”

Michael slumps forward, his eyes returning to normal. The wind around us calms, and even the candles re-light.

“Are you okay?” I ask Michael.

He nods. “That was... wild.”

“Unicorns are particularly receptive to visitors from the other side,” Rune says in his lecture voice that’s starting to grow on me.

“Do you think the other spirit is still here?” I ask. When no one answers, I look to the board. “Are there any spirits present?”

When nothing happens, I ask one more time.

Still nothing.

“I guess that’s all we get,” I say, disappointment coloring my voice. I had hoped to answer this latest riddle with something other than just more riddles.

AJ yawns. “At least we can all go to bed now. I’m exhausted.”

“This doesn’t help us,” I say as I stand, my joints creaking with the movement. Lord, when did I turn into a 95-year-old woman? “What she said doesn’t clarify anything. Maybe she told my grandfather something that made him believe someone was trying to kill him. Maybe she mentioned my dad. But what does any of that mean? Why didn’t someone save Ed?”

“And who was the rando party crasher?” AJ asks as she dusts off her jeans. Before anyone can answer the question, her mind shifts gears at a pace I can barely keep up with. “You know, this space is huge. You should really fix it up. You could do a lot with it.”

“Ha. Right. With what money?” I ask as I pick up Rain.

Zev grabs her crib, collapsing it in one fluid movement like a damn pro. It feels weird that he’s the sexiest when he’s doing mundane tasks, but I can’t help it. Any one of them could melt my panties off by doing the dishes, burping Rain, or sweeping. It’s ridiculous.

AJ huffs and heads towards the stairs leading to the bar. “That’s very limiting thinking that will not help you manifest a higher path.”

“Oh Lord, AJ, are you reading self-help books again?”

She shrugs. “I figure if I want to tap into all my sexy-ass power, I should do some research. Find my center. Become one with the universe. All that jazz.”

I nod. “If you learn anything that could help me stop glowing, pass it on. I’m so over being a perpetual night light.”

She chuckles. “It’s pretty. But yeah, I will.”

We all head upstairs, Rain staying asleep in my arms the whole time, which I count as a small blessing in a very strange night.

Once at the bar, Zev sets up the crib again and I lay Rain into it as Rune makes us all drinks.

We sit around a table and clink our glasses together as I say my favorite Irish toast. “May the best of our past be the worst of our future.”

It always makes me think of my ancestors, and the stories Nanny used to tell that were passed down to her from her great great grandmother. Those stories seemed like fables at the time, legends of the old world, of fairies and magic and fanciful imaginings. But given what I know now, I wonder how many of those stories were closer to the truth than I realized.

“So I guess we’re all going to Budapest,” I say, my mind returning to our current reality. “Well, you don’t have to go, Michael. Obviously.”

He shrugs, his golden blond hair glinting under the dim pub lighting, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “My husband and daughter might not like me leaving, but if you get into a bind, you know you can call me, Bernie.”

“Thanks, Michael. I appreciate it.” Nothing like having a unicorn on call in case of emergencies.

“I won’t be going either,” AJ says, setting her glass down firmly and locking eyes with me.

“What do you mean? Of course you will.”

“B, someone has to keep the bar open while you’re gone. I won’t let you lose this place. I know how to run it, so I’ll stay and handle shit while you go figure out your destiny.”

I’ve given thought to what would happen to the bar, but I figured we could close temporarily in hopes that Budapest wouldn’t take too long.

As if reading my thoughts, she shakes her head. “You know you can’t afford it. Let me do this.” She leans over the table to grasp my hands, her expression earnest. “I won’t let you down. Let me prove myself.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Oh hon, you have nothing to prove. Of course I trust you with the bar. I’m just gonna really miss you.”

She smiles through her own teary eyes. “We’ll see each other soon enough.”

Michael stands. “I think this is my cue to head home. But just so you know, I’m happy to help out in any way I can while you’re gone. I just finished writing a book so I’m taking a break to research my next novel.”

“What kind of research does a unicorn need to do to write fantasy?” AJ asks with a snicker.

I kick her under the table. “Be nice. He’s offering to help.”

She nods. “Sorry. Yeah. Thanks. I can see some serious uses for those abs of yours.”

Michael turns a darker shade of pink as AJ laughs, then stands to join him. “I’ve got to get going too.”

She links arms with Michael. “Care to give me a ride home?”

He nods and as they walk to the door, I stand. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Once they are gone, Darius flashes over there to lock up, then flashes back before I can blink.

I think I’m actually getting used to it. Which freaks me out a little. It’s astonishing how quickly we can adjust to the insane. But I guess it’s how we’ve survived over the centuries.

I sink back into my chair and take another drink, studying the three Sexies sharing the table with me.

Darius keeps his face impassive, but his emotions are bubbly. At least that’s the best word I have for it. Why do you feel weird? I ask through our mental connection.

He raises an eyebrow, his dark eyes boring into me. Weird? Whatever do you mean? He shrugs and fusses with his pitch black hair, though it is as perfectly coiffed as always.

“You two care to share what you’re discussing?” Zev asks, and his unique accent combined with the huskiness of his voice makes even such benign words sound seductive, sending a shiver up my spine. “Darius is bubbly,” I say.

Zev nearly spits out his drink when he laughs. “Bubbly?”

Darius narrows his eyes. “I am not bubbly. Nor have I ever been bubbly.” His clipped British accent is even more striking when his feathers are ruffled, I notice.

“Fine, edgy,” I say, choosing another adjective.

“I am concerned by the seance this evening. It did not go as planned.”

Rune finishes the last of his drink and stands to collect everyone’s glasses. “Spirits are always temperamental,” he says. “The fae are very careful about contacting them. Once a soul passes into the next life, they are meant to move on. When we seek their spirits, we are tethering them to this reality.”

I sigh. “Damnit Rune, why didn’t you tell me that part before we did this? Now I have a sentient ouija board and an upset ghost to deal with and I still didn’t get any answers.”

Rune shrugs as he walks to the bar to begin cleaning up. “I assumed you knew.”

Zev chuckles. “Rune always thinks everyone knows everything he does. It’s his most annoying trait.”

“At least I assume the best of others,” the fae says from behind the bar as he washes the glasses. “You, on the other hand, think everyone is an idiot until proven otherwise.”

Rune looks smug, his long silver-blond hair pulled back in a leather strap, his sky blue eyes twinkling with humor.

“And you both have the tedious tendency to pontificate on your own geniuses,” Darius says with an exaggerated yawn. “It’s exhausting.”

“You’re like squabbling siblings,” I say with a chuckle.

Darius glances at the werewolf, whose forest green eyes look shadowed by thoughts of the past. Zev’s jaw clenches, and he brushes a lock of brown hair from his eyes as he nods at the vampire. “We were once just as siblings, were we not?” he says softly.

Darius breaks eye contact, and stares into the distance. “We were. But that was many years ago.”

“Not so long for those with no expiration date,” I say, pulling my grandfather’s letter out of my pocket and studying the words I’ve already memorized. My eyes get watery as I think of the time I lost with him while I was in New York. Time I’ll never get back now. “You have more opportunities than most to make things right with those you love,” I remind them.

Darius flinches and Zev looks away. Rune is the only one who holds eye contact with me, but freezes as a glass slips from his hands, shattering onto the floor. The fae straightens, staring at his empty hand. “Something is here,” he whispers.

Just as he utters the words, a cold wind blows through the bar and the lights flicker on and off, then all the glasses begin flying off the shelves.

“Curses,” Darius says as Zev growls and shifts into wolf form.

“What is it?” I ask, the hairs on my arms rising, magic crashing through me and lighting up my skin.

Just as I look down at my glowing fingers, I see the letter in my hand burst into flames. I scream and drop it to the table, then scream again when I realize my fingers are on fire. Pain flares in me, burning not my skin but my insides as my powers take control of me.

Before I can ask for help, more glass shards explode around us as chairs flip on end. “Looks like one of our ghost friends has decided to stay,” Darius says grimly.