Present day...
My kitchen brought me a sense of solace. It was painted sage green with accents of mustard yellow, terracotta, peach, and turquoise. Artisanal ceramics, vintage glassware, and decorative woven baskets added vibrancy.
Macramé planters and hanging racks of dried herbs on my windowsills helped to bring a bit of nature into the house. The morning sun twinkled through pendants of hanging crystals, twinkling like string lights, and transformed my kitchen into a magical haven—perfect for spell work.
“Double, bubble, toil, and yuck, so terrible.” I stirred the stinky potion on my gas range that I’d been brewing for the past hour and made a face as I turned to the second page of the Grimorium Magnus De Sacra Venefica circa 1947. “Uhm, no. Just no.”
“What is it, Marigold?” Carver looked over my shoulder at the open tome on my kitchen counter.
My brother Rowan and nephew Michael sat at my weathered farmhouse table. It was surrounded by an assortment of mismatched chairs that I’d bought at garage sales and auctions. Today, they were working on perfecting their protection circles and sacred altars.
Not to brag, but I’d mastered those tasks in the first couple of weeks of lessons, so Carver let me move on to more complicated spells and potions. The current one was a guidance spell for a deity. Specifically, Hecate, the triple goddess. She was the goddess Carver worshipped, and according to him, she hadn’t steered him wrong yet.
Only, I’d decided to change one or two of the elements for a different kind of guidance. I pointed to the passage in the book that had given me pause.
“Oh.” Carver chuckled as he rubbed the bridge of his aquiline nose with the back of his index finger. “I don’t think you have to get naked for the spell to work.”
“Thank the universe,” Rowan muttered.
Michael grunted his agreement as he drew a sigil outside his small protection circle. He tucked a sandy blond curl behind his ear. Now that the kid had graduated high school and was no longer playing sports, he was growing his hair. Frankly, he looked adorable.
I snorted a laugh. “Well, if there’s a spell that requires me to strip, there better be a damn good reason and somebody better be holding a wad of bills to pay for the show.” I winked at Carver, who laughed.
Michael had decided to ignore me as he finished his second sigil.
Rowan, a natural redhead with buttermilk skin and freckles, flushed a deep shade of crimson.
“You’re going to give your brother a heart attack,” Carver said.
“I guess it’s a good thing he’s a doctor then.” I stuck my tongue out at Rowan. “Physician, heal thy self.”
Rowan quit his private practice five months earlier to work as an emergency department doctor at Southill Memorial Hospital. He’d started working three ten-hour shifts a week and was on call day and night on those days. The new job allowed him more time to spend learning eclectic magic.
Carver had been staying at Rowan’s house for the past few months, and I suspected more than rent was going on between them. My brother had always been private about his personal life, but I got the impression that he was more interested in the teacher than the lessons. I hadn’t pried because I believed people were allowed to tell their truth in their own time. It was Rowan’s life and his timeline. I only wanted his complete and utter happiness. Maybe Carver was the key.
My brother gave me a bland look, then cracked a smile. “There’s no cure for pain in the ass sisters.”
“Hah,” I countered. “Too bad for you since you have three of them.” We had an older sister, Dahlia, and two younger sisters, Iris and Rose. Rose, who had recently given birth to her third child, was taking what she liked to call a “maternity leave from magic.”
My phone dinged, and more eager than I wanted to admit, I checked my messages. “Oh no.” I frowned. “It’s Justina.”
“Bio sis?” Rowan asked.
I nodded. I’d never thought I would be interested in finding my biological family. After all, my mom had been the most wonderful mother I could’ve asked for, and I loved my fabulous dad with every fiber of my being. But last year, I’d been diagnosed with hereditary high blood pressure, so I’d taken a DNA test to see if there were any other medical conditions in my genetics that I needed to watch out for. I was only a few years from fifty. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that my health wasn’t going to improve with age. Justina had also done a DNA test. We were a twenty-eight percent match.
“She’s coming to Arkansas in a couple of weeks and wants to stop by for a visit.”
“That’s good, right?” Rowan asked. “You could introduce her to everyone.”
I’d met Justina once. We shared the shapes of our noses and eyes, but she was shorter. Much shorter now that I’d gained five inches in height. I gestured up and down my body. “How am I supposed to explain my abnormal tallness?”
Michael tilted his head. “I grew four inches since graduation.”
“You’re a teenager who hasn’t fully formed yet.” I sighed. “I don’t think that excuse will work for me.”
“Are you planning on never seeing her again?” Carver asked.
“No,” I told him. I liked Justina. We had the same father but different mothers. Our bio-dad had died five years ago, so I still had no idea about my birth mother. I was okay with not knowing. “I’d love to see her.”
Carver’s eyes brightened. “Then tell her yes.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Besides,” Rowan added. “Just tell her what you’ve told everyone around here.”
My brow pinched. “That I have a rare, hereditary disorder that caused a midlife growth spurt?”
My brother grinned, then shrugged. “It’s not a lie.”
“I guess I could tell her it’s hereditary on my maternal side.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Thanks to a near-death experience and a terrifying goddess, Macha, I was now a forest giant-human hybrid. The transformation had some unforeseen benefits for me when it occurred, like aging slower and the ability to talk to animals. But it also had its downside. I’d had to buy all new clothes...okay, maybe that went in the benefit column. But having people make tall jokes all the time wasn’t fun.
I took my phone, battery down to thirty-two percent, into the living room and put it on the charger. As I walked back into the kitchen, I said, “I’ll call her later. Let’s just focus on the lesson.” At the stove, I glanced at Carver to see how closely he was watching me. When his gaze shifted to the table where the guys were spelling, I carefully threw a pinch of allspice into my spell pot.
Almost instantly, the bubbling green goo turned inky black. “Uhm...Should I be worried about this?” I probably should have asked before modifying the potion with a fire spice.
Carver craned his head over and nodded. “This doesn’t look right. Did you add the mugwort?”
I grimaced, then bobbled my head in a slight but noncommittal shake-nod. “Not really.” I grabbed a bamboo spoon from a utensil holder and stirred the potion. A caustic explosion, followed by a rain of noxious slime, made me yelp as I threw the spoon across the room.
“Disgusting,” Michael got to his feet, waving his hand in front of his face. “I’m taking my lesson outside.”
Rowan gagged as he followed suit. “Sorry, sis. I’m out, too.”
“Save yourselves.” I gagged as I wiped rotten egg-scented black slime from my face, then looked to Carver for help. “Why does it have to stink so bad?”
He narrowed his gaze on me. “Because you can’t stir a fire spell with a wooden spoon.”
“A fire spell?” I asked innocently.
“I can smell the allspice, Marigold.” He groaned and plugged his nose. “You have to use the glass stirring rod with fire spells.” Carver used a damp washcloth to wipe his face. “Never wood.”
“I got distracted,” I said in my defense, which, in hindsight, was no defense at all. It wasn’t just the text from my half-sister, though. I’d been having a lot of disruptive dreams of late that I couldn’t get out of my head.
“I don’t mind experimenting if you give me a heads up, but you have to use glass for fire potions,” he instructed, “or things get...”
“Stinky,” I supplied.
He shook his head. “At best.” He handed me a glass stirring rod from the counter. “Look, if you’re too distracted today, we can pick up the lesson tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m not distracted,” I denied. “My attention is completely focused.” Except for the reason I was working on a modified guidance spell in the first place—a certain ifrit whom I hadn’t heard from in a long time. Of course, that hadn’t stopped me from dreaming about him, and the dreams had become more frequent and intense in the past two months.
Carver’s brow dipped as he took a towel from near my sink and wiped some of the potion slime from his shirt. “Is this about Zev?”
I averted my eyes. “Quit reading my mind.”
“That’s not in my skill set,” he said. “However, I’ve noticed that in the last few lessons, you’ve been moving into more difficult spells, specifically about heat and fire resistance. It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to put two and two together.”
“I’m not doing the spells for Zev,” I lied. One week after he’d re-embraced his ifrit power, he’d sent me a text that said, Remember, a part of me is always with you. At first, I thought it was super sweet, but when I didn’t hear from him again, that message became a scab that I couldn’t stop picking. I resisted the urge to pull it up on my phone and read it for the gazillionth time. “He’s out there living his best life, and I’m trying to do the same.”
Carver looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Mare. I’m sorry you both had to sacrifice your relationship, but you know it was necessary. Zev did it to save your family.”
I let out a noisy sigh. “I know.” Knowing didn’t make it hurt less. What Zev had done, embracing his fire to save my family, had bordered on heroic. He’d ensured that Bogmall, my sister’s extremely powerful nemesis, would never escape her prison and wreak havoc on the people I loved ever again. But that heroism had made our love impossible. “I just wish he’d give me a sign that he’s okay. We might not be able to be together, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want him in my life. Besides, he promised he’d come back.”
“Marigold,” Carver said, shaking me from my shame spiral. “Seven months isn’t long for a creature that has lived for hundreds of years. He will come back.”
“By your logic, I could be eighty...or dead by the time he returns.” I chewed my thumbnail and tasted the allspice's bitterness. I tucked my hand into my left apron pocket where I’d put Zev’s token and rubbed it like a worry stone. “But can you try to suspend logic for a moment? I understand all the reasons why he became an ifrit again and how it was an act of selflessness at great personal sacrifice.”
“For both of you.”
“But he promised me he’d be back, and not in forty years. I don’t understand why he hasn’t. He’s a freaking djinn. He can apparate from one continent to the next. If he wanted to see me, he would make it happen.” I could shake the memory of the Iron Grove, of the snotgurgle battle, almost dying, and Zev’s declaration that he would grant me my every heart’s desire. “There’s something wrong. I can feel it. I keep seeing...” I shook my head. “My gut is worried.”
“What does Iris say about your gut?”
Iris and Keir had gone on vacation to Ireland a few days earlier. I’d called her twice, but she hadn’t answered. She’d sent a text last night to explain that she had crap reception and was still suffering jet lag, but it bothered me that I couldn’t easily get ahold of her. Before she’d left for her vacation, I’d asked if she’d heard from Zev. She given me the same song and dance I’d been hearing for months. “Iris says that Zev texts her at least once a month to tell her that he’s fine, and he’ll return when he’s ready.”
“There you have it,” Carver said as if that was all I needed to know.
“I don’t buy it,” I told him, fanning the air to dissipate the stench. “It’s not like Zev to up and disappear.” Though, could I claim to be an expert on the frustrating ifrit? I’d only known him for a short time. Even so, when I had been with him, it felt as if we’d known each other forever. “I’m so...angry and hurt and confused.” More confused than anything else.
“I wish there were something I could do to make the pain easier, but other than a forget-me spell, which will make you forget him, there isn’t anything that will help but time. And time marches to its own drummer.” Carver made a face as some of the tarry green slime on the counter began to hiss. “We should get this goop cleaned up before it starts eating into your range.”
I plucked the damp cloth from a hanging rack near the sink. “You have to admit, it’s weird that he hasn’t answered any of my texts. Not once. I haven’t even seen the bouncing dots on the texts that will let you know when someone is at least considering messaging back.” I wiped at the sticky mess. “I thought... No, I know that I meant more to him than that.”
Carver grabbed another washcloth from my linen drawer. “You’re both grieving a huge loss. But Zev’s very old, and a broken heart takes longer to mend for him.”
“But over seven months?” I shoved my hand into my apron pocket again and palmed the stone. “Come on. That’s a long time for anyone, mortal or immortal.”
Carver frowned. “I wish I knew what to say to make this better for you.”
“I miss him. All the way to my core.” I stopped scrubbing, and my eyes widened as I took in the fruit of my efforts. “Am I hallucinating, or is the black gunk starting to bubble and turn red?”
“You are definitely not hallucinating.” Carver’s normally laid-back tone was pinched. “We should run.”
I gave him a sharp look. “What did you say?”
“Run!” He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the back door.
When we made it outside, the explosion behind us flung me head-first into my Dwarf Burning Bush. Yes, I saw the irony.
I was dazed for a few seconds. I tried to focus. “Carver?” He didn’t answer, and I worried the blast might’ve hurt him or worse. I groaned as the numbness of shock wore off, and pain scorched my left palm. I lifted my hand and saw several red, angry, and pointy triangles etched into my skin. I’d seen the symbol before. “Zev…” I muttered.
“I found her!” Michael yelled. “She’s here!”
I reached up, grasping at the air as Rowan knelt beside me.
“Take it easy, grabby,” he said. “Tell me where it hurts. Does anything feel broken?”
Only my heart, I thought, but saying it out loud wouldn’t be helpful. “I’m okay.” I moved my arms and legs to show him that I could. “Help me up.”
Carver looked me over. “You’ve got a bruise on your forehead. Let’s get you in the house where we can look you over properly.”
I sagged against my brother when he hoisted me up. I was glad he was there to help keep me upright. I was also glad I still had a house.
All that work and research, and all I’d managed to make was a bomb. And for what? A pie-in-the-sky dream of finding a guy who wasn’t acting like someone who wanted to be found. I felt pathetic. “I’m too old to be this stuck,” I told Rowan as I shuffled toward the open door. “Why am I still pining for a guy I can’t be with? Why can’t I move on?”
“You have an unbridled zest for life, sis. You love hard and crash harder.” He gave me a one-armed squeeze. “It’s one of the many amazing things I’ve always admired about you.”
“I’m not anyone to admire, Ro.” I closed my eyes, longing for better times.
Rowan looped his arm under my back and stabilized me as we went inside. The door to the kitchen was still attached, but the cabinets above my antique stove were scorched, and the range had a black crater where the top had once been.
“I’ll get the gas turned off,” Rowan said as he reached behind the range for the shut-off valve.
“I already did,” Carver told him. To me he said, “The good news is that the rest of the kitchen seems to be in good shape. Nothing that a good scrubbing with clean towels won’t fix.”
“Ha. Good plan.” My hand throbbed with a persistent ache that wouldn't let me forget the pain. I glanced down at my palm. A large blister, about the size of a silver dollar, had formed, obscuring the pattern that had been there before. Had I imagined it?
“We need to get that under cold water, then clean it and wrap it,” Rowan said. It’s definitely second-degree.”
“Good thing I have a private concierge doctor on duty.”
“Dr. Everlee, at your service.” He chuckled. “I won’t even charge you an emergency fee.”
Michael turned the cold water on for me, but I got lightheaded and wobbly when I tried to walk to the sink.
“Whoa,” Rowan cautioned. “Take it easy.” He assisted me to the running tap. “You got thrown a fair way. You might have a concussion. Maybe Carver has something for that, too.” He glanced at the tall eclectic witch, who was fervently wiping black gunk from my cabinet doors.
I smiled as I put my hand under the running tap and quietly said, “Maybe it’s time you tried out that unbridled zest for life you’re so enamored by.”
His flushed cheeks made me grin.
“Hey,” I told Carver. “I’ll clean up later. You don’t have to—”
The eclectic witch turned sharply to look at me. “I’ve uncovered something strange under the scorch marks.” He gestured toward the blackened cabinets like Vanna White displaying a vowel. On the doors above the stove, distinct lines had been burned into the surface.
“The triangles.” I turned the water off. “Zev’s triangles.” I rubbed my palm. “The same pattern was burned into my hand.”
“There’s no pattern on your palm. Just a major blister,” Rowan said.
“But it was there,” I insisted. I reached into my pocket to show them the stone, but it wasn’t there. Crap. Had it fallen out somewhere outside when I’d been tossed during the explosion? “I had a rock.” I indicated my apron pocket. “It was Zev’s. It had the same symbols on it.”
“Okay, the symbols make a little more sense now,” Carver said slowly. “The writing is cuneiform. It means soul stone of fire, or something to that effect. It’s not a perfect translation.”
“You know cuneiform?” Rowan asked him. “Isn’t it a dead language?”
“I know a lot of things.” Carver arched his brow as he held Rowan’s gaze for a moment, then turned to me. “What did you do to the potion? This shouldn’t have been a side effect of the spell you were brewing.”
“I was trying to find Zev. To get a message to him. Or get one from him. Nonmagical means weren’t working, so I was trying something new. I had no idea the spell would go full nuclear in my kitchen.” If I had, I would have brewed it outside over a campfire.
Carver gave a slight head shake. “There’s another symbol over here.” He indicated some extra lines and waves to the side of the triangles.
My heartbeat had kicked into fourth gear. “What does it say?”
Carver’s hand dropped to his side, and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Caught,” he said. Again, not a perfect translation.”
“I knew it,” I said with full vindication. “It’s a message from Zev.” I looked at Carver. “He’s in trouble,” I told him. “And he needs my help.”
Come hell or high water, he was going to get it.