The ceremony was simple, according to Spring. It would take no more than the five Thornes to complete. The bed was pulled out from the wall, and a salt ring was created around it.
Alastair set white candles around the inside perimeter of the circle. Next, he directed Rylee to lie down next to Ryanne. “Is there anything you need to convey before we start, child?”
“I left a note for my sister in the guest bedroom. Will you see that she gets it?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thorne. And thank you for being kind despite what I did.”
“Victor has a way of manipulating others to do his bidding, whether they want to or not. Because you are doing this for your sister, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe you never truly wanted to hurt anyone.”
A single tear trailed down from the outside corner of her eye to disappear into the dark hair at her temple. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Nash started to reach for her hand, but his father beat him to it.
“No need, dear girl. I’ve spoken to Isis. Your welcome is assured.”
Her tears came in earnest, and she graced him with a small smile.
From his pocket, Alastair withdrew the Chintamani Stone in its ugly setting and handed it to Nash. “Put this on Ryanne.”
As soon as he did, he noticed a flush of color came into her skin. A good sign if memory served. “What’s next?”
“We will need blood from both,” Spring stated, producing an athame and a copper bowl. “Only a few drops. You can take it from the thumb.”
Nash offered Rylee the knife. “I won’t be able to cut her.”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile, and she pricked the pad of her sister’s thumb. When she got the few drops she needed, she gestured for him to come closer. “You might want to seal that up.”
It was a simple matter to create a magical Band-Aid.
Rylee repeated the process to her own thumb and squeezed out the blood. She handed the athame and bowl back to Spring, who placed a handful of mixed herbs into the dish and set it at the foot of the bed, between the twins.
“Rylee, please join hands with your sister,” Spring said. “Nash, take the point at Ryanne’s left shoulder. Autumn, you take the point at Rylee’s right shoulder.” She positioned herself at Ryanne’s feet and pointed to the place a few steps from her. “Aunt GiGi, here. Uncle Alastair, you will need to stand at the head of the bed.”
Nash instantly realized they had formed a human pentagram.
Spring addressed Autumn. “Please light the candles.”
A simple flick of Autumn’s wrist lit all the wicks in one shot.
The action brought a smile to his face. Because they were more powerful than most, the Thornes took their magic for granted. But to him, as skilled a warlock as he was, he took delight in the energy around him. Not only did he feel the hum of his own cells firing up, but he experienced a contact high from the witches around him.
“What now?” he asked.
“Now we call on Ra.”
Nash’s heart nearly stopped. “Ra? As in the God of Egypt? Are you crazy? If Set doesn’t kill us first, Ra will definitely finish the job.”
Set was brother to the goddesses and known as the combatant, the primary protector of Ra.
“We have no sacrifice to offer.”
“We don’t need one. Trust me, cousin.” Spring’s smile was serene.
She held out her hands, palms forward, and they all repeated the action. “We ask that the God Ra hear us. We ask that you grant us—”
A deafening crack rent the air, cutting Spring off mid-spell. The retinal-searing gold light flooding the room forced the occupants to shield their faces or risk blinding.
As soon as the light eased to normal, Nash removed his arm. Black dots danced about his vision, and he blinked in a vain attempt to clear them.
“Who calls to Ra?”
Based on the sheer size of the newcomer, Nash assumed the guy was Set. The militant, no-nonsense attitude spoke of previous battle experience.
“I do, Exalted One.” Spring bowed her head in deference to the god and gave a hand gesture behind her back for the others to do the same. As one, their group dropped to their knees.
“I know of you, Spring Thorne.”
She simply smiled.
The god slowly raked his hot gaze down the length of Spring’s perfection.
Nash ground his teeth together. He didn’t relish fighting the guy, but if Set stepped across the line of proper etiquette, then he would have no choice.
“Why am I here?”
“We called on Ra to perform a transmutation spell. It appears he sent you instead.”
“He no longer cares to help mortals. Your kind have desecrated the ways of old.”
“Forgive us, Exalted One, but I thought I was performing the ceremony properly based on the writings of our people.”
She was up to something, Nash could tell. His brilliant, beloved cousin was wrapping this god around her petite pinky finger.
“You did. What is it you wish?”
Spring waved a hand toward the twins on the bed. “Rylee, sister to Ryanne, wishes to take her place in the Otherworld.”
“That is the business of Isis or Nephthys. Not Ra.”
“Your sisters claim they cannot become involved due to a promise to Serqet, Exalted One. I had hoped the Great One could settle the issue.”
Set shifted forward to tower over her. Nash had to wonder if Spring’s neck hurt looking up at the guy.
The man’s honey-gold eyes were lined with a thick streak of black kohl, which lent to the eeriness of his unwavering regard. Spring never broke Set’s cold-eyed stare.
Nash was certain he was imagining things when the lines bracketing the god’s eyes crinkled and a wide white grin took over Set’s face.
“You are courageous, child. I will settle your issue with my sisters.” He snapped his fingers, and an ancient-looking scroll appeared. As he handed it to Spring, he retained a firm grip and tugged when her fingers closed around the parchment. “What do you give in return?”
“My undying gratitude.”
The Thornes all gasped at her audacity.
Set took no offense, instead laughing and releasing the scroll. “You shall be my favorite from this day forward, Spring Thorne.” His interested gaze scanned her delicate features before dropping to her mouth. “But you still owe a gift. Balance must be kept in all things.”
“My wife is not kissing you.” Knox’s voice came from behind Nash. The dark menace in his tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the barely concealed fury it was.
“Who said anything about kissing? I require more than a mere kiss for trade.”
“Over my dead body.”
Unholy glee filled Set’s eyes as they settled on Knox. “You are no match for me, boy.”
The building shook, and the metal frame of the bed began to bend. “Try me.”
Before a fight could erupt, Spring laughed. The musical sound turned all attention to her. “What is the gift you require, Exalted One? My husband will not stand in the way of the trade.”
“Spring!” Knox growled. The floor shook again.
“Oh, hush. Set is too honorable to step across the boundaries of propriety. Aren’t you, Exalted One? You would never prey on another man’s wife, would you?”
Nash bit the inside of his cheek to contain his laughter. Spring had effectively boxed the god in, relying on his honor to stay his hand.
A slow, appreciative smile spread across his countenance. “Of course.” He glanced between the couple. Deviltry lighting his face. “Your payment shall be to name your firstborn son for me.”
“The hel—”
“It’s done,” Spring spoke over her husband, warning heavy in her tone. “Our firstborn son shall be called Seth, the modernized version of your name.”
Knox threw up his hands and shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“You may wish to shorten your lead rope around your husband’s neck, girl. It will keep him from trouble,” Set warned with a hard look in Knox’s direction.
“Forgive him, Exalted One. He is but a dumb beast.”
Nash did laugh then. Knox’s IQ was as high as Spring’s, if not higher. The outrage on his face was priceless.
Set released the scroll and backed from the circle. He was mighty, but Nash suspected the god wasn’t stupid enough to turn his back on an enraged husband.
“Go in peace, Thorne family.”
They all bowed their heads, and in another searing blast of light, Set was gone.
“Dumb beast?” Knox growled. “Dumb beast?”
Spring rolled her eyes as she unfolded the scroll. “Hush or I’ll stuff your mouth with dirt.”
“Woman, you try my patience.”
“If you two would like to put aside your domestic squabble for a few minutes, we have Nash’s young woman to retrieve,” Alastair interrupted. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and shot them a reproving look. “Time is of the essence. Every hour we delay is the equivalent of a day in the Otherworld. The longer a soul resides there, the more of that soul is lost.”
“Apologies, Uncle Alastair. To you too, Nash,” Spring said. “Would you care to finish the ceremony?”
“No. You read it. I can’t be the one to send Rylee to the Otherworld.”
Spring spoke the words written on the parchment. Some familiar to Nash, but most not. As he watched, the half-healed wound on Ryanne’s arm knitted together. The gray leeched from her skin, resulting in a healthy glow. Her breathing deepened and filled her lungs with each new inhale.
Rylee’s pained gasp drew his notice. A long, ugly gash split open the graying skin of her wrist. Blood pooled up and out. Her back arched up, and her mouth widened in a silent scream.
In spite of the trouble Rylee had wrought, Nash found it difficult to let this happen to her. When he would’ve moved to help her, Knox clamped a hand on his shoulder, staying him.
In another instant, it was over. Rylee’s vacant stare was an indication her body hadn’t survived the transition. The candle flames were all extinguished with a sweep of Autumn’s hand.
A low moan escaped Ryanne’s lips, and Nash shrugged off Knox’s steely grip to rush to her side.
Nash didn’t want the first thing she saw upon waking to be her sister’s dead body, so he scooped her into his arms and teleported to the living room. He set her on the couch and grabbed the quilt from the sofa’s back to bundle her chilly body.
A peculiar sense of déjà vu struck him. Was it really only a week since the last time he’d wrapped her in this blanket in his laughable attempt to protect his heart?
“Nash?”
“Welcome back, babe.”
Her eyes widened and searched the living room. What she was looking for, he had no clue. “Was it all a dream?”
“Was what a dream?”
“The goddesses. The necklace. My sister,” she ended on a whisper.
“No. It was all real.”
Her wide, chocolaty eyes filled with moisture, and the beseeching look tormented Nash’s soul. “She’s gone then? Rylee?”
“She is. I’m sorry.”
Her broken-hearted sobs ripped him to shreds. All he could do was hold her and rock her in an eerie repetition of Rylee’s crying jag from last night. What must it be like for one identical twin to lose another? If it was even a fraction of the grief he’d experienced in losing Ryanne yesterday, then it had to be horrendous.