Strega (Strega Series) (19 page)

All of us have secrets. But I wonder how many of these people sitting around us, passing by us outside, can fathom the secrets I keep? I do not dwell, but I would be deceiving myself if I did not admit just how isolating it can be. I am so thankful for Celia and Ruth. Without them I don't know how I would get through this. I am truly grateful for the gifts we have, for our ability to protect innocent people and the people they love from harm. But at times like this, I wish we had someone else to rely on. Nobody can protect Jay but us, and that terrifies me.

I'm struggling with my decision to bind Jay's power. I know the consequences. But the alternative is a greater risk, and one that I am not willing to take. I will do anything to protect her. I've been fighting for decades. I've protected countless innocents, vanquished more demons than I could possibly count. But I have sacrificed so much, and lost so much along the way. My husband. My daughter. My son-in-law. Sisters. Friends. I cannot lose Jay. I won't. I do not care if I am interfering with destiny. Any destiny she is meant to fulfill is lost anyway if she is dead. And she has already been through more than any child should ever have to endure. She needs precious time without the burdens she will one day have to face. She will learn the truth soon enough, but not now. She deserves a normal childhood. As normal as can be expected after what she has already endured.

Later that day, Gram wrote more.

Ruth got home late last night to an answering machine full of messages from me. She didn't call until this morning to avoid waking me. I could wring her neck for it. I was up all night anyway.

We met at Celia's shop this afternoon. I told them of the woman that came to me in the church, and her warning. I showed them the Lasa goddess entry in my book. She is a guardian spirit. But not mine. She did not come for me. She came for Jay.

I looked up from the pages of the journal and my eyes settled on Mom's book. I reached for it, terrified to open it again after my last experience. For the first time, I noticed the dark words branded upon the brown leather cover beneath the triquetra.

Libra dei Segreti

I grabbed my bag and pulled out Mr. Whitmore's makeshift book. Beneath the hand-drawn symbol on the cover was the same title written in his neat scrolled handwriting.
Libra dei Segreti.
Book of Secrets.

I opened Mom's book and slowly flipped through the pages of magical beings, some beautiful and brimming with light. Others, horrific and shrouded in darkness. For the beings of light, the accompanying text described ways to call upon them for protection or guidance. For the hideous and fearsome creatures, their strengths and weaknesses were listed, along with methods to protect oneself from them, or to destroy them. Other pages contained spell verses and incantations for rituals. It was clearly a magical reference book, just like the one Mr. Whitmore had discovered and then tried to recreate. I continued to flip through the pages until I found the entry I was looking for.

The Lasa Goddess

My hand swept across the page. She was beautiful. Like the Triune, her likeness was so realistically rendered that she could've walked right off the page. I prayed that she wouldn't. Her skin shimmered like a pearl. Her long, light hair flowed down her back and across her translucent wings. Beside her likeness, several lines of text were penned in a perfect scrolling hand.

She belongs to a sisterhood of fate-goddesses, the Lasae. These guardian spirits watch over and protect their charges across lifetimes, usher their souls to the afterlife upon death, and guard their graves on earth. The Lasa is a divine creature, emanating grace and the light of the heavens. Her wings appear only to those that possess otherworldly power. She carries an alabastron of scented oil, which she uses to bring peace and calm to those she encounters. She also uses her gift in defense, to disarm any that intend to harm her.

I reached for Gram's journal again and kept reading. I hoped everything whirling in my mind would soon settle together with some clarity. But one thing was already very clear. Page after page, I saw Ruth and Celia's names, and I knew that, like Gram, they knew more than they ever shared.

Ruth and Celia had both called every day to check in. They were overprotective—I barely got Ruth to agree to go. It was the first time I'd been alone since Gram died, and they were worried. But the roots of their worry went a bit deeper, I was beginning to realize. There was a whole lot they weren't telling me. I hadn't bothered to call them back, but I was beginning to think it was time.

Only high-ranking demons recruit the Cerberus. But we can't figure out what high-ranking demon would want Jay. She is only a child and hardly a threat. There is a reason, I am sure. I just can't imagine what it could be.

By binding Jay's power, by stopping her dreams and precognition, we risk losing the truth forever. Interfering with her unfolding power could bring unforeseen consequences. But I have to risk it. We discussed every potential drawback, but in the end we found no alternative. It will be harder to track down whoever is sending the Cerberus without Jay's visions to reveal it, but at least she will be protected while we try. Without her power, she cannot be sensed or tracked. They can keep her athame. That is all they are going to get.

The power binding potion required the consent, and blood, of the triquetra. One drop from each of us with complementary powers, to seal the binding. Celia and Ruth finally consented, but only after I agreed that in time we will teach Jay the ways and unbind her power. I will only do this after we have eliminated her enemies.

Alanna was completely against binding Jay's power. Even after her own sisters Becky and Vivian consented. Soon after the incessant Cerberus attacks began, they were desperate to save their sister Strega from defeat, to preserve their now broken triquetra of power, and of course to protect Jay. They even made the power binding potion with their own blood. All that was needed was a drop from Alanna, but she still refused. 'It is our family's destiny, mom. Our calling,' she used to say to me, reminding me that we are meant to protect what is good and sacred in this world. That Jay was born with a great gift, as we were, and that she is meant to do great things.

The day before Alanna died, we talked about it again but her answer was the same. She had just vanquished another of the Cerberus that came for Jay. She carried Jay's blade, luring them straight to her, to protect Jay. Alanna was fast. Her instincts were sharp. She drew her athame and launched it at them before they ever saw it coming. She loved each vanquish, knowing that in her eyes each of them saw the flames that incinerated them. She fought long and hard, and rid the world of so many of them, but the bastards finally got her.

I wonder if she would feel the same way now, knowing the true cost of this fight, knowing that her daughter would suffer the same fate if I did not stop it. I lost her, my own daughter, and I can't help but wonder if she and Dean would still be alive if we had bound Jay's power.

Whatever the consequences may be, it is done now. Jay drank the potion about an hour ago, while she helped me make dinner. I chopped an onion to mask my real tears as she took the last few sips of her milk. Her power is bound, and I have no regrets. I only hope that she is truly safe now. I will feel more assured when I see her make it through the night in peace.

When I was a child, I saw magic in everything. The first crocus to pop through the soil in the spring. The peaceful sound of the river water cascading over the rocks on its banks. The great hawks gliding beyond the tallest treetops. I was captivated by brilliant blue lightning, powerful roaring thunder, and the light of the full moon.

With Mom and Dad, and with Gram, Christmas, Easter, and Halloween were always special celebrations. But unlike most children, I learned that these were old pagan holidays with new names and meaning. And on the summer and winter solstice, and the spring and autumnal equinox, we always sat under the stars by a blazing fire, looking up at the moon and marveling at the mysteries of the universe.

So many memories that seemed so ordinary were suddenly emerging with new significance, completely warping the landscape of my life as I knew it. The strange stones and crystals I'd find around the house on window sills or buried in the garden. The songs Mom and Gram used to sing. These things that were once so benign were suddenly stepping out of the shadows with giant footsteps, crushing all my perceptions.

Let evil lose its way this night. Separate this dark from light. Shelter be a steadfast shield. Bring us peace, let us be concealed.

After Mom and Dad died, I said this prayer with Gram every night before bed. As I got older, we still had our way of saying it.

Night light!

Like so many things, I never thought much about its meaning. It was familiar and unquestioned, like the pendant dangling from Gram's chain.

Wear this and it will protect you from the darkness
.

Something was after me back then, and Gram protected me. The warmth of this notion iced over with a frigid reality. She was gone, and so was that protection. The dreams came back after she died, and this was the reason. They were coming for me again. And they killed her to get to me.

Did you really think you could hide from us forever?

The haunting words of my attacker resounded in my mind and made me shudder.

The door to my bedroom burst open and Rena flew in. I nearly knocked over my cup of coffee as I shoved Gram's journal under a pile of papers.

"Are you serious?" I clutched my chest and looked up in annoyance. "Thanks for the heart attack."

"Sorry!" she chirped as she ran toward my closet door. "How is the story coming along?"

Her hands were full. I knew she'd gone to Gram's house. My initial horror quickly abated. She was standing in front of me, safe and sound.

"I'm almost done with it," I said, though I hadn't touched it since she left. As she scurried around behind me, I switched my focus to it.

"I found you the most perfect dress with the most perfect shoes for tonight!" She hung the dress on my closet door and placed the shoes beneath it so I would get the full effect of the ensemble she'd chosen.

"Where did you get such a gorgeous dress?" she asked exaggeratedly.

It had to be the black silk dress I wore to my junior prom. I loved that one. But she already knew where I got it
—she was with me when I bought it. I turned around to see her standing by my closet, presenting her display with pride and enthusiasm. But I couldn't speak. Only a gasp escaped my lips. I held onto the back of my chair so that I wouldn't fall out of it. There on the door of my closet was the stunning red dress from my dream.

"I love it! It's got a little Greek goddess flair to it," she said as she adjusted it on the hanger.

The dress was beautiful. It flowed to the floor. The elegant fabric was gathered on one shoulder with a silver filigree brooch. A thin, delicately-woven silver chain, meant to rest on the hips, wrapped around it. Its amber-jeweled ends dangled just above the knee. The hem was embroidered with strands of silver that shimmered in the light. It was exactly as I remembered it from my dream.

"Where did you get that?" I demanded more harshly than I intended. I hoped she would say she found it in the spare bedroom with Mom's old stuff, or in Gram's closet. Maybe I'd seen it before, and it made its way into my dream.

"From your closet, at Gram's. Where else?"

"
My
closet? Are you sure?"

"Yes,
your
closet. It's the one in
your
room," she said, making a dumb face at me. "It was hanging up right next to all your other stuff. Dude, how could you forget a dress like this?"

My phone vibrated across the desk. It was my boss calling, gently pressuring me for the story I owed him. The deadline to production was in an hour, and editorial was anxiously waiting for it. I always submitted my stories early. This was the first time he'd ever called looking for my stuff. I nervously assured him it was on its way. The knot in my stomach doubled.
How hard is it to write three paragraphs about the new yoga program at the Senior Center?

Rena stood quietly beside me. I faked a thank you and pretended to be thrilled with her dress selection as I swallowed the truth again. It slid down my throat like a grand piano. I couldn't look at my closet door.

"OK, I have to finish some stuff." I signaled to the door, gently hinting for her to get out.

"As soon as you're done, let me know. I want to do your hair and makeup!" she shouted and zipped out the door.

I scanned my notes and threw together a story as fast as I could. It was basic, but complete. After a quick final edit, I hit send. I closed my laptop and stood up to see Rena standing on the other side of the door, peering at me through a two-inch gap.