Mostly though, this burgeoning relationship that Cian and I have is the only thing keeping me from spiraling, and I can’t stand to watch himliterallyvanish before my eyes. Even knowing he doesn’t actually go anywhere… I don’t know. Symbolically it just screams, like… bad juju or something. Ormaaaaybe it has something to do with the Pandora’s Box of abandonment issues that just got served up to me on a ‘your-life-has-been-a-lie’ platter. I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh again, trying to force back my quickly snowballing thoughts.
“We can take a break if this is too much, love.” Cian’s soft voice is a life-line in the shit-storm of my mind.
I shake my head, “No. It’s okay. I just wish there was a way for us to… do this more efficiently.” I wave my hand at the small pile of boxes we’ve looked through so far. We should have been like halfway through the pile by now, but instead we’d barely finished a quarter of it. I look back at Cian, zeroing in on his lush bottom lip, currently being raked over by his teeth.
“I’m not sure if it would work, but if you’re willing to try something, I have an idea…” His voice is gentle, like he knows how skittish I’m feeling. I want to be embarrassed that I’m apparentlynotthe type of fantasy heroine who takes all of life’s plot twists like a friggen champ, but I appreciate his care and attention, and I’ve never been the altruistic type. At my nod he turns toward me and gestures for me to come closer. I walk into his embrace and laugh at the smug but oddly charming expression on his face.
“While this is nice, it’s not really going to help us—Oh!” I gasp as a cool, smooth tentacle wraps around my thigh. My eyes widen, “Cian! This isreallynot going to help us get this done!”
He chuckles and shakes his head, the tentacle firmly wrapped around my thigh with the tip resting achingly close to my core. The flimsy barrier of my leggings the only thing keeping all thought from vacating my head on the spot.
“They’re solid when I’m corporeal, so maybe…” He trails off, holding my eyes while he takes a couple steps back. He looks down at where our pinkies are still locked quickly before gazing back at me, waiting for my permission.
It makes sense in theory… but my mind flits back to the time he wrapped an invisible tentacle around my neck and I wince, even as a fleeting heat flares low in my belly. Why would this work now if it didn’t make him visible then? Although—maybe because they’re solid now it will work? I deliberate for a minute before taking sigh one million and two of the evening. If itdoeswork this will be a game changer, for unpacking—and for our day to day lives if we can’t find anything in these boxes to help us. I nod hesitantly and lick my lips, “Okay, but come back right away, if…” My throat squeezes shut with anxiety and I swallow against the feeling, squeaking out a final, “Please”.
“I promise.” He holds my eyes for just a moment more, before slowly letting go of my pinky… and nothing. He smiles at me auspiciously and I watch as his shoulders heave in his own very relieved sigh—it works!
“Holy shit. You did it!” I laugh and run a hand over the tentacle still firmly circling my thigh.
Cian shivers and groans, “If we’re going to continue on with this search we should probably avoid stroking the equipment.”
I bite down on my lip and nod, however, my hand slides enticingly along the cool appendage toward my inner thigh and a little thrill goes through me as he lets out a gasp and grabs at hisverytented crotch. He looks up incredulously, accusation in his eyes as I grab onto the tip of the tentacle that’s resting over my nowveryinterested pussy and move it over to safer territory, tutting at him.
Understanding washes over his features and he has the good sense to look properly chastised as we grin at each other. “Okay,now… let’s get back to work before I change my mind!”
Cian’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods sagely and turns toward the box he was working on. I stare at him, smiling like an idiot for a beat before turning my attention back to my own workspace. So far this box has been mostly candles andincense burners of varying sizes. It’s a very… potent smelling box, and I wrinkle my nose as I pull out yet another wad of dried herbs. I think it may have been sage at one point, but after years in storage it’s now just a crumbly mess. I purse my lips and grab a trash bag, swinging it through the air to open it before setting it in a circle on the floor.
Cian glances up from his box curiously so I quickly explain, “There’s a bunch of junky old herbs in here. I don’t want to make a mess. I think this box is probably mostly trash anyway.” He nods distractedly at my words, already focusing his attention back to his own task.
I lift my box, which is heavier than I expected, and half drop it onto the floor into the open trash bag. Lifting the sides of the bag up, I grab handfuls of the bundled and loose herbs and carefully tuck them into the low-density plastic now surrounding the beat-up looking cardboard. I clear out most of the herbs and dried flowers and then peer into the box, half expecting to find a stack of sticks or a rock collection. So my eyes widen in shock when I spot a decorative chest about the size of a large shoebox—like a boot box, or something. Is it still a shoebox if it’s made for boots? I shake my head at the scattered thought and reach in to pull the chest out, setting it on the ground beside the trash bag.
My eyes run over the intricate designs on the shining walnut box, breath catching when I see a keyhole.Shit.I look back into the cardboard, but it’s empty and my heart threatens to sink as I slide down onto the floor, tucking my legs in beneath me. Tentatively, although I’m not sure exactly why, I reach toward the chest silently praying that it’s not locked. Before my hand can even touch the dark stained wood, the lid pops open slightly. I blink, nerves churning in my stomach. A quick glance at Cian shows him elbow deep, pulling out piles of photographs. My eyes catch on the smiling face of my mother when she was younger and I feel a pang of sadness and longing in my chest.
Forcing my eyes back to the chest in front of me, I reach out to open the lid the rest of the way. A frown pulls at my lips. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but a large and very fancy saccoccia bag was definitely not it. It reminds me of a drawstring clutch I wore to a renaissance fair when I was a kid, except much nicer. I grab it, lifting it into my lap and pulling at the strings to open it, hoping there’s something worthwhile inside—when my eyes catch on a letter that the bag had been resting on top of. A letter addressed to me.
My hands freeze and my heart skips a beat. I look over at Cian again, a knot forming in my throat. He’s sorting through the old photographs with a tiny frown on his face. I debate calling him over, but something stops me. I reach for the letter without really even meaning to, opening it before I can second-guess myself. My hands numbly pull pages covered in a sprawling script out of the yellowed envelope and I look down, taking them in.
Dearest Trissa,
My beautiful grand-daughter. Let me first start with an apology—for nothing I can say within this letter will lessen the burden placed on your shoulders, or soften the sharp edge of pain that my actions have caused.
It was an accident, at first. I saw the death of my dearest friend, and I could not accept it. I stubbornly refused. I meddled with fate, and Fate took a price in blood. I saw one small chance at a glimmer of happiness for Cian, and I took it. Quite possibly the most damning part of all my many sins, is that I can’t say for certain that I did the right thing… or that I would do it again, if I knew then what would happen.
As it turns out, I was pregnant, when I did the blood magic that bound Cian to our bloodline. I didn’t know, of course. Looking into the future is very often just as deceptive as it is helpful— remember that, please. The magic took a price, ablood debt, on my unborn child. When the mark appeared over my stomach, I went to my coven and begged for their help. They agreed, but with a group composed of mostly kitchen witches and healers we were limited… blood magic is beyond the pale for covens like mine. We performed a spell that delayed the blood debt, but only temporarily. The babe would still have to die, but she would be able to live long enough that I hoped I could find a more permanent solution.
Time passed, my precious Willa met Sam… a most kind-hearted warlock, your father. For a time I was foolish enough to believe that the reprieve would last indefinitely. When your parents conceived I had another vision. I saw my grand-daughter for the first time. Only, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen you—only the first time I knew who you were. They were a comfort, at first. To know that my grand-daughter would find such a love match with my dearest friend was a delight. Not long after they started though, they took a wicked turn. Willa started getting them, too. Fate does not easily forgive, and if you were to find love with Cian and help him complete the ritual… well, that was a snub that Fate could not abide. Willa’s blood debt was to be called in before you were born, claiming you both.
It took almost a year of searching to find the string that allowed me to ‘save’ Cian, but Willa didn’t have that much time. All three of us set to scrying, trying desperately to find a solution. We finally found one, but it had a heavy price. Your father didn’t hesitate to offer up his own life to extend Willa’s long enough for them to see you born, to have some time to know and love you. We knew that it wouldn’t last forever, so we worked to make as many arrangements for your future as possible. My coven sister and dear friend, Anne, helped to oversee the details for after we were all gone from this plane.
You may be wondering why I didn’t offer myself, in place of your father, and my simple answer is that I couldn’t. My blood was already tied to a debt. Which brings us back to this chest. When I bound Cian to our bloodline I used a special key. With it, not only will you be able to complete the ritual that will make him a full witch-bound phantom, but you will also be able to use it on this chest—to unlock a hidden compartment that will reveal a vial of elixir.
All you have to do to complete the ritual is use the key to draw your blood—Cian can show you how to do this—and then simply say, “I bind myself to thee, and thus our spirits too. An anchor sets you free, a blood debt paid, not due”. That’s it. He’s already bound to the key and our bloodline, so once you give the conduit—the key—your blood, his transformation will be complete at long last. You will not be marked by this magic, as the blood price has already been paid.
Now… Cian will not age, but witches do. If you decide that you want to remain with him beyond your mortal days, drink the elixir. However, be sure. It cannot be undone.
Please tell Cian that I’m sorry as well, although I know that no amount of apologizing can make up for the pain that I’ve caused you both. I can’t say for certain that I did the right thing. I will be praying to all the gods of this world, that I did—though I fear not even they could say for sure. If you truly find happiness with Cian, I can’t force myself to regret it, either.
With all my love,
