Rejected Mate and Following Fate novel Chapter 77

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.

“What?” Meadow almost snaps impulsively, startled by her gesture and I begin tapping my foot on the floor as anxiety overtakes me. My blood rushing to warm my skin with her sudden outburst.

“It’s not the spell…. it’s who wrote it. She’s a witch.” Sierra turns the book, sliding its heaviness around to face us again and taps at the bottom right of the second page somewhat excitedly; at a little symbol that looks like it was burned into the page with hot metal. It’s tiny, a small flowing L and C surrounded by a vine design that wrap it into one continuous form and is unusually pretty.

“You know this witch? She’s alive… I don’t understand?” I point out knowing the runes predate even Sierra’s father and as witch’s 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, or whatever it is.

“Leyanne Cruden… And oh yes, she’s alive, unless in the last eight years someone figured out how to kill an immortal witch who has lived for thousands of years. She’s not like any witch you will ever meet. She wrote this spell for my ancestors to protect 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 words, her face flushing slightly and there’s a new light of something in her eyes. Dare I say she has found a reason to hope.

“Immortal? 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 my mind falls in line with hers. And I wonder if the witch who wrote our protection spell could remove it and let the fog in among the rest of my people if we are stupid enough to let her in here.

“No…Leyanne would never choose a side and take such drastic action. She is all for preserving the species, of all kinds. She wouldn’t choose to get on side to rid the world of wolves. She’s an ally. She isn’t bound by a coven or any kind of higher power like most witches. She used to be part of the high council before she even 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 they’re immortal beings. Sorcerers.” Sierra strokes the imprinted insignia lovingly, her face aglow with new light and I glance at her then meadow, so torn in how to feel.

“So, we have some unkillable, all powerful Sister, walking around with the ability to create unbreakable spells and throw her power around? And we’re only hearing of her now? Where is she, how do we find her?” Meadow props one hand on the table to slide her fingers under her chin, her other hand waving that finger in the air, with a sassy tone that hints at a mix of disbelief and lack of trust that this is the answer to our problems. Sierra ignores the underlying attitude and beams our way.

“Scotland…. well, maybe. She travels a lot. But she’s Scottish.”

“Scotland! Are you kidding? That’s almost the other side of the world. How the hell are we supposed to 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 and exhale heavily. My body heavy, and tired, and everything in me is starting to ache. What I wouldn’t give for Colton to stroll in and take command like he always does, and I bite down the urge to cry with the need for his presence.

“No. But we do have other means to find out where someone is, providing they aren’t hiding from sight. Witches have ways and means.” Sierra closes the book as though she now realizes we never needed that damn page and fixes her gaze on my slump posture, reaching out a loving hand to comfort me.

“Explain?” Meadow cuts in sharply. Getting inpatient.

“Locator spell. Normally we need a person’s belonging to enchant but we have a room full of books where she added her own spells. We have items she gifted my ancestors, and we have this.” Sierra moves off to a 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 children’s fairy costume and I can’t even imagine what it’s meant to be for.

“What is 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 it’s made of precious and fragile crystal.

“It’s an 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 glitter and sigh again.

“So what do we do with 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, over her heart.

“We find the book which tells us how to perform a locator spell. It’s been nine years since I used it and it’s rusty. I used it to find out where you were being cared for, Alora.” She smiles softly 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 the fates flicker through my head in weird kinds of ways. I can’t help but wonder if this is relevant.

“So tell us what the book looks like and we look.” Meadow interrupts my moment of reverie, on her feet and ready to do something more than sitting here and I nod in agreement. Sliding up from my own chair to get busy.