Chapter Twenty-three:
“What advice do you think Lady Erlanga has to share with us?” Lukas asked after we parted ways with the other three. He guided his car south toward the Lady’s house, his stiff posture indicating his uncertainty.
“Maybe she’s figured out a solution the priests didn’t think of,” I guessed, running my gaze over the familiar buildings of Alterlangen as we headed toward the Regnitz River. “She might even have some fresh cookies to nibble on.”
Lukas made a scoffing sound through his nose. “I can’t get over how casual you are with the most powerful Teutons in this city. The Keyholder? ‘Oh, that’s my friend, Henning.’ Now the Lady. ‘Awesome, she’ll probably have cookies.’”
“Didn’t you study with the old Keyholder when you were a kid?” I shot Lukas a questioning look. His formality around Erlangen’s Keyholder and Lady always struck me as peculiar for such an imposing man.
“No, I mainly studied with my father. But you know, I think that’s one major advantage in our relationship. I have contacts among the corporate executives, and you have contacts among the Teutonic leadership. Together, we’ll take this world by storm!”
I laughed, though I understood his meaning. “Honestly, I’d rather just live a peaceful life with you. Raise a child or two. Play with Winston every day. Create a positive sphere in our own environment and let it expand from there. Aside from the slaveholding Teuton priests. Totally ready to lock them up for life.”
“I can get behind that.” Lukas turned his car onto Lady Erlanga’s street. “Will there be room in her driveway, or do I need to look for parking?”
“Should be room, unless she has company. She’s only got one car.”
“Still wondering why she asked for us specifically, and not Dennis or Till.” Lukas’ forehead creased as he parked his Mercedes behind the Lady’s Volkswagen. A dark green BMW sedan sat in the space beside the Volkswagen.
I turned my attention to the Teuton spirits within her house, identifying the Lady’s light and Henning’s blue fire instantly. My element also sensed the presence of natural fire and wispy air, a hint of familiarity digging into my memories. When Lukas pulled the parking break and turned off the engine, I straightened in my seat. “I think Lady Ilsa and Horst are here, too!”
Excitement buoyed me as I leaped out of the car and sprinted to the front door. Lukas followed at a more reserved pace, as though he remained wary of the intentions of those inside the house. Lady Ilsa opened the door for us, her silver-white braid pinned to the back of her head, a thumb-sized locket of beaten gold hanging on a chain around her neck. She wore relaxed clothing today—baggy jeans and a sweatshirt depicting a brand of chocolate I did not recognize. Her blue-gray eyes held mine as she gave a solemn nod.
“Well, you certainly got yourself into a pickle, didn’t you, Gabi?” she said, stepping aside so Lukas and I could enter the parlor.
My first instinct was to shove all the blame onto Dennis, but I stopped that in its tracks. Instead, I shrugged and replied, “I couldn’t let a demon hurt my little brother. Someone had to step in.” I took a deep breath, the forest-scented incense smoldering at the front windowsill offering a welcome sense of peace.
“A noble soul. My favorite kind.” Horst spoke from his wheelchair, which was positioned between the TV and the bookcase. He wore a red plaid shirt and well-worn overalls, giving the impression of a retired farmer rather than a Teuton priest. His sapphire irises seemed to sparkle at me, no trace of flame evident within them for the moment. His thin gray hair and withered skin indicated he was closer in age to Lady Erlanga than his own wife. I judged him to be in his eighties, while Lady Ilsa might be sixty-five at most.
“Don’t let her fool you. She leaves town at the first sign of trouble.” Lukas smirked at me and walked forward, holding a hand out to Horst. “Lukas Felder.”
I made a face at his back while he finished greeting Horst, and muttered, “Jerk,” under my breath. Lady Ilsa chuckled and waved me to the teal couch against the front window.
“The Leitalra and her priest are finishing up a batch of cookies right now,” Lady Ilsa told me as I moved toward my usual place—the couch cushion closest to the door and across from my mentor’s overstuffed chair. “Chocolate chip, I believe. The Keyholder’s likely preparing tea, too, but we’ve got beers if that’s more your style.”
Lady Ilsa gestured at the coffee table, which held a collection of Paulaner cans along with a pile of napkins. The delicious scent of baking eased outward from the doorway to the dining room and kitchen, mingling seamlessly with the incense. “Where’s everyone sitting?” I asked Lady Ilsa just as she glided into the dining room.
She spun back to face me, her spryness granting me a fresh goal. Stay in shape so you can move like her in your sixties. “I took the couch cushion nearest to my master, but the other two are open. The Leitaeri will sit at his Lady’s feet.” She glanced toward the green ottoman beside the armchair, then disappeared.
Lukas, meanwhile, had gotten beers for himself and Horst, two cans cracking open as they exchanged opinions on business. Horst had been a family lawyer in an Austrian village for many years, his wife handling the financial facets. I sat upon the couch’s center cushion, suspecting Lady Ilsa would rather sit beside me than Lukas. Then again, she might enjoy discussing finances with him. I picked up a can of Paulaner for myself, not particularly in the mood for tea.
Once the elders finished their snack preparations, the parlor’s aura would grow much more solemn. Two aged Teuton witches—one Erlangen’s Lady, two Teuton priests of equal caliber though far different in age, and two Teutons bound by a demon’s infernal bargain. Bianca had said Lady Ilsa knew ancient spells even priests dared not weave. If these elders planned to extract Lukas and me from the bargain while leaving Dennis and Till at risk, I would rebel.
Lady Ilsa reentered the parlor while I ruminated on potential solutions, her left arm supporting Lady Erlanga, a bowl of cookies balanced against her right hip. My mentor wore a flowered house dress and fuzzy slippers, her wavy white hair pulled back in a low ponytail, her gait slow and cautious. I smothered a gasp at her frailty. She had seemed fine at the New Year’s festival, which happened only three months ago. Now she looked like a slight breeze could blow her over.
Pain seized my heart as my thoughts turned to Henning. Was his beloved Leitalra—also his great-grandmother—walking the path to eternity at long last? Was he prepared to shift his priorities toward whichever young female Erlanga’s soul chose to take his current matriarch’s place? I could not imagine the heartbreak that sweet young man must soon bear. I offered a silent prayer for heaven to bless whichever maiden found her destiny bound to Erlangen.
I set my beer onto the coffee table and helped Lady Ilsa situate my mentor upon her plush chair. Light flared in Lady Erlanga’s irises as she met my gaze and offered a smile. “Ah, Gabi. Fate has certainly done a number on you and your dear partner, hasn’t it?” Her eyes drifted toward where Lukas hovered nearby, concern evident upon his countenance. He had set his own can upon the coffee table, too, his hands extended to grant assistance.
“You can say that again, Lady Erlanga,” I answered, watching her wrinkled fingers arrange the skirt of her dress. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’ll be fine once my great-grandson joins us. He’s been sharing power with me for many months. We’ll get you and Lukas straightened out, don’t you worry.” She and Lady Ilsa clasped hands, and my fire detected a current of air rushing into my mentor’s spirit.
“You two might as well sit and enjoy the cookies,” Lady Ilsa advised, thrusting the bowl into my hands. “The young Leitaeri is almost finished with the tea. Think I’ll have some of that, myself. Beer has never been my first choice.”
“She’s fibbing,” Horst said in a stage whisper, shooting his wife a playful smirk. He held her gaze starkly and took a swig from his can.
“You know I prefer champagne,” Lady Ilsa corrected, shaking her head at her priestly husband. Their banter made me smile, a brief reprieve from whatever news Lukas and I were about to receive. My mentor’s weakness stirred my anxiety, my intuition predicting tragedy.
I hoped against hope Lukas had no intentions of mentioning the agreement we had reached last night in bed. We would never be permitted to offer ourselves to Wuotan unless we kept our plans safely hidden.
Henning entered the parlor holding a tray with the tea kettle, cups, spoons, and standard additives, right after Lukas and I sat down upon the couch. I took the center cushion again and set the bowl of cookies on the corner of the table before us, slipping my left hand through Lukas’ right. The mist in his spirit stretched forth to comfort the fire in mine, and we exchanged a meaningful look before averting our attention to the young Keyholder. We would meet our fate as one, no matter how terrible the specifics might be.
Henning greeted us politely, then set his tray upon the coffee table. I studied his aura as he prepared a cup of tea for his beloved Leitalra, the hood of his priestly robe pushed back to reveal his standard ponytail. His blue fire seemed deadened, its natural brilliance dimmed by pain and dread. He did not meet my gaze while he added two spoonfuls of sugar to his great-grandmother’s tea, spilling a portion on the saucer underneath the cup. Uttering a quiet curse, he took up a napkin to repair his mistake, a nervous quiver in his fingers.
Lady Ilsa stepped in to help Henning, murmuring a few gentle phrases. He grabbed a can of Paulaner and a handful of cookies before retreating to the ottoman, his eyes fixed upon his Leitalra. She favored him with a grateful smile, and I sensed his fire magic expanding to merge with her spirit.
Horst’s wife brought Lady Erlanga her teacup and saucer along with a small stack of cookies, the strained silence in the room growing more and more ominous. Horst requested some cookies as Lady Ilsa headed back to her place on the couch, the Alpine lilt of his dialect breaking some of the tension. Husband and wife shared a loaded glance when she deposited four cookies onto the napkin in his lap. The airy witch sighed, returning to her seat to prepare her own cup of tea.
“If the atmosphere in this room gets any darker, my light might explode into a miniature sun,” Lady Erlanga remarked. She eyed me over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip, then shifted her gaze to Lukas. “There’s really no point in beating around the bush, so I’ll start with the hardest news first. My kidneys are failing. My doctors don’t expect me to live much longer without requiring dialysis.”
Lukas stiffened at my left side and drank from his can; aside from that, no one else in the parlor reacted to my mentor’s admission. Lady Ilsa, Horst, and Henning already knew. Henning had doubtless known for months. I bit the inside of my cheek, my brain trying to piece together the new puzzle set before me.
“Has your Leitaeri been sharing magic with you to delay the effects?” I did not think that was possible. While Teutonic blood magic granted our people the ability to heal wounds quickly, I knew several Teutons with chronic health issues. My late grandmother had struggled with high blood pressure for decades before her death, and Bianca’s father had Type 1 diabetes. My gaze strayed toward Horst, settled calmly in his wheelchair. His fire magic was powerful; his display when he had confronted Wuotan proved it.
But it could not grant him the strength to rise up and walk.
“Henning has been very supportive, despite the incomplete nature of our bond,” Lady Erlanga responded, giving her great-grandson a devoted look. “Kidney failure has been a gradual process, at least for me. I’ve known for years that I would eventually face dialysis or death, since at my age, a transplant is unsafe. I’ve also known that I have no wish to submit to that grueling treatment. My late husband understood my feelings in this matter, and when he left the earth, he knew I would follow shortly.”
I chewed on a cookie, its savory warmth taking the edge off my turbulent emotions. Would I react the same way, if my kidneys failed in old age? Would I refuse treatment and allow death to take me? The idea of an infusion port made me shudder; maybe her choice was not so peculiar.
“We must each follow the path we believe is right, and make peace with the consequences,” Horst said, after an extended pause. Lukas was also working on a cookie, apparently as dumbstruck as I felt.
“Well said,” Lady Ilsa interjected, lifting her teacup to her lips. I noticed she did not blow on her tea, her air magic adjusting its temperature to her preferences. Bianca also knew that trick, though she had struggled to perfect it due to her wind’s intrinsic wildness.
“Unlike my dear husband,” my mentor went on, her eyebrows lowering in fortitude, “I have no intention of passing away quietly in my bed, drained to a shell. While that seems to be the goal many strive for in today’s world, I’ve always longed to make a significant impact with my departure, one that should benefit my city’s Teuton community for years, even decades.”
Now Lady Erlanga really had my attention. Lukas and I gawked at her, the partial cookies in our hands forgotten. She looked from one of us to the other and said, “Long before either of you were a thought in your parents’ minds, my previous Leitaeri performed a duty for that wretch who wishes to siphon your faith away. In the process, the demon became indebted to me, the matriarch of Erlangen. For many years, I’ve intended to go before Wuotan in my last days to require payment of his debt. When I do, I’ll rescind his hold upon you both, as well as your brother and his friend.” She nodded at me, looking satisfied.
I had no words. What my aged mentor claimed seemed too good to be true. How could any mortal human hold sway against a demon’s wiles? All at once, I remembered what she had told me when I first visited her back in October. I still have a few things to accomplish before I leave this world for good. Some debts I haven’t settled yet with supernatural entities.
Her statement had aroused my curiosity at the time, but other issues quickly eclipsed its position in my memories. This must be what she meant. Her husband had done Wuotan a favor, and now the demon must pay the debt to her. Lukas’ fingers twitched where they gripped my hand and he brought his cookie to his mouth, his black eyebrows drawn together. I sensed he was not convinced.
“The Leitalra of a Teuton city wields an authority the rest of us in this parlor can never comprehend,” Lady Ilsa noted in response to the silence. She jostled my right arm with her elbow, prompting me to meet her gaze. Her blue-gray eyes filled with arcane wisdom, she explained, “All of the departed souls of this city will come at her call, imbuing her with a power no demon can match. Few Teuton Ladies ever tap into that vast flow of strength, but Frieda’s instincts will guide her.”
“And she has the Almighty God on her side, along with a legion of elemental spirits,” Horst added, while I sat stupefied that Lady Ilsa had called my mentor by her first name. In my entire life, I had heard it only once, when she first introduced herself to me in my childhood.
The slim matron at my side offered me a smile and pointed at my half-eaten cookie. “No point in leaving that unfinished. We must honor my dear friend’s final batch of cookies.”
“What?” I looked down at the cookie myself, then cut my gaze back to Lady Erlanga, who had begun to chuckle.
“Luckily, I taught Henning how to bake. And he has access to all of my recipes, a Keyholder the Teutons of this city will greatly respect.” Henning’s cheeks flamed, his gaze riveted on the hem of his Leitalra’s dress.
“Final batch of cookies,” Lukas repeated, bringing the subject back around. Thank goodness he was keeping up with these startling revelations. My mind still lingered several steps behind.
“The Leitalra intends to depart this earth for the demonic dimension just twenty-five minutes from now,” Horst said, looking at his watch. Then he raised his gaze to meet mine and lowered his voice. “As I mentioned last night when my colleagues arrived to defend you four, no one comes back alive from that place.”
“Twenty-five minutes?” My voice quavered, horror seizing me in its vise. Lukas and I stared at each other, my fingers reflexively tightening upon his hand. The Lady of Erlangen planned to give her life for ours.
“I trust there’s more you . . . intend to accomplish . . . aside from saving my life, Gabi’s life, and the lives of the two young men?” Lukas spoke the question I could not, his voice heavy with anguish.
“I have a few other expectations Wuotan must meet,” Lady Erlanga replied, her right hand fingering the last piece of a cookie she had eaten while the rest of us talked amongst ourselves. “But truly, Herr Lukas Felder, I do believe that sparing the lives of four vibrant young Teutons is a worthy enough cause. Maybe even the greatest of all.”
Lukas exhaled a shaky breath, slumping against the back of the couch as the Leitalra’s generosity showed itself. She studied him for a moment, a glimmer of light magic enhancing her dark blue irises. “I’ve heard good things about your mother from a trusted friend of mine. Herr Liebig worked with her for many years before his retirement. He calls her an ambitious yet charitable businesswoman, one who cares about the wellbeing of others. I trust that you’ll follow in her steps as you build your own family, Herr Felder.”
“I will, for sure.” The promise tumbled from Lukas’ lips. He cleared his throat, obviously still distressed by the Lady’s plans to liberate us.
During the subsequent pause in conversation, Henning rose from the ottoman without letting go of his great-grandmother’s left hand. “You’ll need to put on your spelled robe and shoes before the demon opens the portal, Omi.”
The matriarch sighed and uncrossed her ankles, allowing her Keyholder to help her rise from her chair. Lukas rushed to her aid, supporting Lady Erlanga’s back as she groaned on her way to her feet. “Pity I didn’t have time to finish those,” she said, looking at the three cookies left on her tray. “Maybe I’ll take them through the portal with me. See how long my baking can withstand Wuotan’s fires.”
Bemused, I slouched against the back of the couch myself, not knowing how to feel about my mentor’s decision. What had her late husband done for Wuotan years ago that put the demon in her debt? Her debt, not his debt. I suspected Lady Ilsa and her priestly master did not know the particulars, and would not share them if they did. Chewing absently on another cookie, I watched Lukas and Henning guide the Lady down the hallway, their chatter softening until I could no longer distinguish the words.
“Frieda really cares for you, Gabi,” Lady Ilsa murmured to me while I gazed blankly toward the bookshelf, the natural flames adorning a pair of jarred candles easing my element into a reverie, a temporary bandage to block my sorrow. “She called you and Lukas here specifically to assure you there’s nothing lesser about either one of you. Not your magic, not your blood status, and certainly not your commitment to each other.”
“But how can we ever repay her for doing this?” I asked, feeling unworthy. “I mean, I know she said she’s been planning on making Wuotan pay his debt in her last days, but . . . how long can she survive in the demonic realm? Can her light protect her from the flames? Will she be tortured to death?”
I broke off as a knot of tears formed in my throat. Sobs attacked me abruptly, and I buried my face in my hands. Lady Ilsa tucked me against her breast, her arms granting a grandmother’s comfort. The deep-seated doubts that had hampered me my entire life began to dissolve, my fire sharing in my elders’ love and grief. I was a Teuton fire witch of eighty-five percent, a self-made businesswoman, a loyal friend, and an advocate poised to move our people forward. Maybe Lady Erlanga planned to dismantle that inane blood prejudice hanging over this city. Maybe its persistence resulted from Wuotan’s deceits.
When I managed to compose myself, I slipped out of Lady Ilsa’s embrace and used a tissue to wipe away my tears, blowing my nose once for good measure. I edged to the other side of the couch to toss the tissue into a small trash can, then leaned forward to grab my beer. My element flared to life in my blood, veiling the parlor in fiery scarlet as I drained the contents of my can. If Wuotan was about to crack open a portal to the damned dimension, I needed my fire handy in case the demon tried to do more than summon Lady Erlanga away.
“Your fire’s color is incredibly striking,” Horst commented when I placed my empty beer can onto the coffee table, my peripheral vision catching sight of the yellow-orange flames enhancing his own irises. “You could certainly become an extraordinary witch, if you put your mind to it.”
Horst’s compliment stoked my newfound determination to be the partner Lukas needed and to shine a light in our community. Fate may not have led me back to Erlangen so I could become the city’s Leitalra, but it had indeed brought me to a place where I found the belonging I craved. On Monday morning, I would cancel my scheduled interviews at the two accounting firms in München. My home was in this Franconian city along the Regnitz River, with Lukas Felder, my little mouse, and my lifelong best friend. I would live a purposeful life in honor of my mentor’s noble sacrifice.
Eventually, Lady Erlanga made her way back into the parlor, now clad in a pitch black hooded robe that trailed the floor. Its design was similar to the attire her Keyholder wore, and it was a jarring experience to see her in black. I got to my feet and Lukas joined me, leaving the Lady with her devoted great-grandson standing in the open space between the hallway and her chair. Henning clung to his Leitalra’s right arm, his magic rushing into her essence in a tidal wave.
“You have to let me go, my dear boy,” Lady Erlanga said to him, her sage eyes passing over his pleading face. “I’ll allow eternity to take me as soon as I’ve finished what I must do. Within days, Erlanga’s soul will be reborn in the heart of a young maiden, a Lady who will be your perfect match.”
“I pray that you’re right, my gracious Leitalra. I’ll send you as much magic as I can, once you’ve crossed over . . . and I’ll pray for divine mercy, that you may reunite with Opa very soon.”
Leitaeri and Leitalra shared a brief kiss, and then Henning stepped back, his right hand moving automatically to the city’s keys hanging from his belt. His fingers closed around them, as if seeking comfort from their potent sorcery.
An ear-splitting crack rent the air apart between where Lady Erlanga stood and her front door, a portal ringed in black flames forming in the ether. My mentor narrowed her eyes at the gateway, then held her left palm out. “Ilsa, hand me those cookies. Horst, always shower your special witch with your heart’s deepest love.”
The Leitalra’s eyes ran over Horst as she spoke, and when Lady Ilsa offered her that last pile of cookies, she averted her gaze to Lukas and me. “Never stray from the path of light. You two embody the sensitivity our people need.”
My mentor turned for the portal, and I vowed, “Lukas and I will live our best lives in your honor. Thank you so much for freeing us.” I clasped his right hand in my left again, our elements forming an iridescent sphere around our hands.
Lady Erlanga offered all of us one last smile, then passed through the portal, which vanished an instant later, taking the city’s Teuton matriarch away.