Rory and Twila packed up for their creepy coven meeting at their usual spot– the Grimm family mausoleum. Every Tuesday the coven would meet either there or in Twila’s nautical themed living room. It being at the mausoleum that night was actually perfect. I had a plan to get Asena to come with me to the meeting, but I did not anticipate finding her in her room, alone, talking to herself.
“...I wonder if I’ll be a discussion topic tonight,” she muttered to herself as she straightened a pillow on her bed.
I took my chance, swallowing my fear, and appeared to her once more. “Would you like to find out?”
Fast as lightning, she sent her pillow flying directly at my head. I stepped out of the way, letting it skim past my ear. I leaned against the door frame, her obvious horror earning a satisfied grin to form on my face against my better judgment.
She didn’t say anything, just stared at me with chest heaving. She was as beautiful as I remembered with her appearance ironically resembling pure light. Silvery blonde hair that was tied in a knot at the top of her head, bright eyes that stared curiously at me, and a small frame that was a remarkable resemblance to her past life’s body. I waited for her to remember me, but she quickly grabbed another pillow to hurl at me.
“Who are you?”
My smile faded as the satisfaction turned to disappointment. “You thought I was a dream, didn’t you?”
She gulped hard and nodded, her tiny body pressing itself into the counter between her bed and wall as if she would disappear into it.
I nodded once, swallowing my disappointment and peeled myself off the door jam. "I figured my second appearance would prove to you…”
She stuttered, making unintelligible words, frantically brushing her hair from her face. She stopped, and took a deep breath. "Were those my memories? Last night? In my dreams? You were in them."
I frowned at her. Did she not know I was the grim reaper and not the lord of dreams? How would I know if her dreams were just dreams or if they were memories?
"I remembered living in the age of Vikings!"
Oh well, that makes it a memory. "Oh that," I coughed. "Yes, it was probably your last life before you became a reaper…do you even remember being a reaper? Nevermind, we have bigger concerns right now."
She looked down at her gentle hands, still messy from coffee grounds and syrups, but otherwise soft and gentle in appearance. "I was a Viking..." she mused, twirling her hair around her finger just like she used to do.
Had she no urgency? The coven meeting would start very soon and I still had to explain how we were going to get there, but she was too busy musing over dreams. I wanted to grab her and shake her.
So I tried a different approach– shock and awe.
I crossed the room, and cupped her chin so she had to look at me, startling her. "You weren't just any Viking... you were supposed to be the next to receive the curse."
Her eyes widened and her soft lips parted as her eyes met mine. "What curse?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I looked between her face and my hand, surprised she let me touch her. I dropped her chin. "You were supposed to be the next grim— you were my replacement,” I replied quietly.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why didn't I become a...whatever?"
"A Grim?"
"Whatever–why didn't I become one?"
I was really hoping she wouldn’t ask that because the explanation would take far too long for the time limit we currently had. "I...uh... may have had something to do with that, but we'll get into that later. We have a coven meeting to crash."
“I’m sorry, we’re going to do what?”
“It’ll explain more than I can,” I tell her, nervously fiddling with my rings. I could see the stubbornness blossoming on her face in her pinched eyebrows and thinly pressed lips. I sighed and walked towards her, ignoring her skitter backwards. “I know you don’t remember our previous relationship but please know I would never intentionally put you in harm’s way. I would rip this world apart first.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or from persistent stubbornness. She crossed her arms over her chest. Definitely stubbornness. “If you think I’m going to go anywhere with you–”
She was going to fight me at every turn, I realized. If I wanted her to follow me, I would have to force her. It was less than savory, but it was necessary. I needed her to understand the danger she was in. These witches wanted her power, wanted the blessing of the Master, and would do anything to get it so I had to protect her…even if it meant forcing her to endure a coven meeting.
I captured her wrist and yanked her soul from her body. Her physical body flopped onto her bed, limp and sleeping, while Asena’s astral soul was trying to follow what just happened. I figured having her as an astral projection would work for the meeting. We wouldn’t have to be as quiet, but there was the issue of Rory being a Seer. Rory would see us coming from a mile away if we didn’t calculate our move properly, but that could easily be dealt with if I calculated our moves properly.
Tightening my grip on her wrist, I focused my thoughts on appearing in the trees outside the mausoleum. Her soul, tethered to me, followed as she continued to gather her bearings. “We’re going to watch the coven meeting,” I said to her, “but we have to be careful because Rory might be able to see us.”
The mausoleum of the coven was the largest in the graveyard. Over its large, iron gate doors was the last name Grimm written in exquisite iron work. The building itself was stone and marble that was a bit worse for wear, and had vines twisting their way up the sides. If seen on a sunny day, one might assume it was a family from long ago rather than the head of the city’s coven.
Asena’s expression was calculating as she took in her location, almost like she was trying to decide if getting Rory’s attention would be a good idea or not. She sighed. “I don’t like magic,” was all she said before letting me lead her to the gates of the mausoleum.
The meeting was already in session with Twila giving her opening salutations to the gods, particularly the god of death– i.e. The Master. The Master was conveniently right beside her, grinning like a cat, when called the god of death. I wanted to lean over and explain to her that they weren’t talking about me, but The Master saw me and waved excitedly.
My teeth clicked together audibly, earning a glance from Asena. When our eyes met, I realized just how close we were. Her arm was pressed against mine and it was warm. She seemed to notice this as well and looked back to the meeting quickly, a slight blush warming her cheeks.
To my surprise, she tried to jerk her arm out of my grip. I held on tighter because if I hadn’t her astral form would’ve gone rushing back to her body. “Relax, you’re fine,” I hissed through my teeth in exasperation because her carelessness could’ve harmed her. “We’re astral projecting so none of them will see us.”
“Why are we here?” she hissed back. “I would rather die than be here. Can’t you just explain what you need to–”
Isn’t it obvious? “–We’re here because I want you to see with your own eyes the danger you’re in. Especially since you convinced yourself I was a dream.”
She met my gaze defiantly, her nostrils flaring with rage as she tried to jerk her arm out of my grip once again. “I want nothing to do with magic!”
“Well, it wants everything to do with you, so I’m sorry but you need to know what’s happening or else.” I figured that would be the end of it, so I turned back to the meandering witches who were still setting up for the meeting.
However, Asena had other plans. She took my arm and made me look at her. "This town worships the witches like gods,” she whispered, “and I have no desire to be like them! I've never even cast a spell-"
I let out a low growl as my temper began to get the best of me. The sound effectively silenced her.
I was trying to save this girl and she was trying to stick her head back under the ground. Has she always been this infuriatingly stubborn? I remember her being more understanding and having more brain cells, because if Death personified had shown up in her past life, she would’ve hung on every word, but now… she was defying every word.
"Not being involved is notpossible,” I growled. ‘You are in danger and if you want to stay alive, you will listen to this meeting. Now we’re going inside.”
Concentrating on the inside of the mausoleum, I transported us to the darkest corner. Despite the shadows, all around was bathed in the light of countless candles within the mausoleum. The coven’s excited buzzing echoed in the space with activity as they prepared the space for the meeting. Candles were placed with great care and lit in the same fashion.
Near us, the Wisps were discussing their daughter's inauguration into the coven in the next couple of years, but Mrs. Wisp's face was pinched in stress, despite the happy topic. They were working on the chalk runes on the floor that allowed the space to be protected from negative intentions.
The Englands and their daughter wore masks of happiness, but they too seemed strained as they helped Twila with setting up the alter. Every one of the four families wore the same expression, I realized. Selene Vexx being the only exception, openly wearing a mask of anxiety as she brought in the alter cloth.
This gathering took up the majority of the space inside the mausoleum. The walls were lined with polished stone that glimmered in the candlelight. The plaques that lined the wall almost seemed to shine against the gray stone of the wall. There were probably twenty plaques, some being blank for future generations. Candles rested in the flower holders that hang off the wall and each had long trails of melted wax that puddled on the floor beneath them.
At the front of the mausoleum, Rory and her mother stood at the altar. Rory's expression was vacant while she stared at the floor. A pit formed in my stomach at the sight. Twila was up to something and it was something that stole the very life out of her daughter. Rory’s eyes fluttered back to life and she glanced around the room, thankfully breezing over Asena and I in the corner.
I leaned down, my lips brushing her ear. "Your friend Rory is a seer. If you move too much she will be able to see you."
Her face pinched in irritation. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Very."
Her eyes narrowed at me but she said nothing. How could I get through to this girl how much danger she was in?
My anxiety peaked as Twila lifted her arms above her head, catching everyone's attention. Her grin reminded me of the Master’s and how it showed more teeth than socially accepted. "Blessed be, my family!"
The crowd muttered back "Blessed be" apprehensively.
"We gather in anticipation of the celebration of Imbolc. I welcome each and every one of you tonight as we offer our thanks to our patron Death for the many blessings he has given us." She bowed low towards the altar. "You all have given me the results of your scrying and I will read them now."
Asena stretched up onto her tip toes trying to see past Mr. Rodriguez who was holding his wife close. She could just barely see over his shoulder. I gently guided us to a better view which was still out of Rory’s sight. Asena smirked as Twila dramatically pulled a piece of paper from the pile.
"From our ancestors," Twila read loudly, "the England ancestors warn of the arrival of the prophesied blessing within this coven. Our ancestors speak of Death’s absence on the Other Side, suggesting his visitation to the one who has the blessed blood of our ancestors."
I felt Asena’s whole body freeze at Twila’s words. I leaned down and whispered, "They've noticed my absence and are correctly assuming I've revealed myself to the individual going to take my place."
Her eyes flicked to me, her expression showing the thousand questions blossoming."Are you...?" Mors? Hades? The god of death? Am I...?
I shook my head and held up a single finger to his lips because how could I explain it all while it was unfolding before us? I would be talking over the important warning of danger that was coming which is simply counterproductive. I pointed back towards Twila as she revealed another report. This one was written in ink on coffee stained paper.
"The depths of the mirror spoke with conviction of the things to come." She squinted at the piece of paper. "What does this next part say?" she asked a witch near the front.
A petite girl with her soft brown hair pulled into a low bun stepped forward. "May I?" she offered, extending a gentle hand.
"Of course," Twila conceded through her teeth, handing the letter.
The woman turned and beamed out at the crowd while Twila tried to hide her displeasure. "The Good family reports that the depths of the mirror have sung their song," she reads carefully, only looking back up at the crowd when she pauses for breath. "Death has revealed himself to the one of great power. The bloodline has long been dormant, lacking the blessing of Death and at long last it has been revealed once again. To remain in good favor, the mirror suggests that the one blessed with power will come into their powers after they cross from this life to the next." The Good woman smiled and handed the report back to Twila before departing the stage.
Rory was chewing on her nails, anxiously eyeing the crowd as her mother forced a smile and took the next report. Rory glanced at Twila only when she began muttering to herself quietly.
"Wisps?" Twila said with a sickly sweet smile. "Would you like to present your report?"
A man by the name of Emery Wisp stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I speak as the family's scryer. My throwing bones have revealed the same as the Goods, however, mine adds that this individual resents the path chosen for them and will remain hidden until the proper time." He stepped back with a low nod of his head to Twila.
Interesting. I rubbed my chin, surprised by the accuracy of the reading. I glanced down at Asena, noting the color had drained from her face.
Twila's face was pinched in confusion. "They resent the path?"
Emery offered a shrug. "I got the impression that they are actively choosing to live a different lifestyle? Maybe they're claiming they're on one path of witchcraft while hiding their true nature?"
"Selene?" Twila called out nervously. "Anything from your end of the coven?"
Selene was a dark witch who had defected from her old coven because of human sacrifices happening. She flicked her dark eyes to Twila and sniffed. "If I did, would it be any different than the others? I don't need to consult the shadows to know something big is coming because I can feel it. I'm sure we all can."
There was a murmur of agreement that went through the coven.
Asena dropped from my tip toes and looked up at me, her eyes wide. "They're talking about me, aren't they? The one who is choosing a different path—I'm choosing to live without magic."
I nodded solemnly, giving my wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "Don't worry, they haven't figured that part out yet. They're too busy scrutinizing each other."
Twila spoke again before she could reply. "Our traditions speak of remaining in our Lord Death’s favor by raising up the blessed to their fate. Our ancestors have spoken and we must act. Our powers depend on our blessings from our dear Patron. We cannot let him down by allowing the one blessed with power to continue avoiding their destiny!"
Shouts of agreement echoed around the room, causing Asena to shrink into me.
The candles flickered wildly as a breeze entered the mausoleum. "My family... Mors is with this Individual. He stays by their side, readying them for their next step in their journey...and I have found within my family's spellbooks the spell to grant us our ultimate blessing."
There were no shouts of agreement then, only unease as she picked up a giant spellbook from her feet and opened it to a preselected page.
Shit. She held the Grimm family grimoire, the oldest grimoire I knew about, and was leafing through it like it wasn’t a gold mine of information–like it wasn’t the key to the Master winning Asena.
"With the flesh and blood of the blessed, we will make our dear patron flesh and blood so that we may never be without His presence!"
I felt my face go pale as the coven erupted into shouts. Their cheers chilled me to the bone, knowing that they wanted to resurrect me… not knowing that I wasn't even the god they worshiped. Moreover, they were cheering to sacrifice the Asena. I felt Asena half fall into my side, her breathing coming fast. I felt like I was suffocating.
"Get me out of here," she whispered to me. “Get out of my head, get out of my life–”
A movement of fiery red curls caught my attention as Rory looked our way.
"Shit," I breathed as the coven began to move towards the altar where Twila still stood.
Then we were gone.
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