Hades' expression darkened like storm clouds gathering. "The gods are divided. Some view this as mortal affairs. Others are concerned about the precedent they set if they intervene."
"What about the fact that Lyra is trying to use my children to become more powerful than the original Pleiades? You know, the ones they forced to give power away." I couldn’t believe they would allow that to happen. If they were worried about seven individuals wielding this much power, what would they think of one?
"That's where the division lies," Hades replied with disgust. "Some gods see the triplets as divine enough to warrant protection. Others consider them mortal enough to be outside jurisdiction. Politics."
A soft chime from Jean-Marc's tablet drew attention to the screen. "She's drawing more power," Nina observed. "The ley line corruption is getting worse."
"Let's get started before I chicken out." I sighed, leaning into Aidon.
The next couple of hours blurred as we frantically prepared. The back garden transformed into a ritual space with circles of salt and silver. Candles were positioned precisely. Herbs were ground and prepared.
Aidon reinforced property defenses. His divine power wove protection spells that hummed with authority. The coven witches proved invaluable. Their magic complemented our improvised approaches.
Vera instructed us in the use of moonbell. Their chiming created musical harmony that would strengthen the ritual circle. Iris prepared graveyard keeper's moss, its light-redirecting properties creating deeper protection pockets. Tansy worked with stormcaller root, grinding it to powder that sparked with miniature lightning.
"The preparations are almost complete," Mom said, wiping sweat despite the cool air. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm about to attempt something that could either save my children or turn us all into goo," I replied honestly. "But ready."
"And the babies?"
I pressed a hand to my belly, feeling for them. "They're excited. I think they know we're trying to help."
"Good," Vera said, surveying our work with critical experience. "The ritual will draw on their natural defenses and your combined power to break the parasitic bonds. The more cooperative they are, the more likely we will be to cut her off."
As midnight approached, I felt the weight of what we were attempting. Three generations preparing to weave untested magic against an enemy who'd had centuries to plan.
"Are you certain?" Clio asked one final time. "Once we begin, there's no stopping. The magical backlash could be catastrophic."
"I'm certain," I said, though my heart hammered like it was trying to escape my ribcage. "I cannot allow her to hurt my kids and destroy the world. We all know that’s what will happen if she succeeds."
Persephone appeared at the garden's edge in a whirl of spring-scented wind. Her expression was troubled. "Sorry, I'm late. The council ran longer than expected."
"What's the verdict?" Hades asked.
"Officially, the gods will not intervene in what they consider a mortal magical conflict," Persephone replied. "Zeus was particularly adamant about not setting a dangerous precedent."
"And unofficially?" Hades asked as he embraced his wife.
"Unofficially, several gods expressed support. Artemis is incensed about threats to unborn children. Athena believes Lyra's actions threaten the natural order."
"But they won't help directly." I was disgusted but not surprised.
"They can't," Persephone corrected. "But they can look the other way if certain individuals need to draw on more power than mortal magic should allow."
Hope flickered in my chest. "Meaning?"
"Meaning you have friends in high places who won't interfere if you need more juice than your usual magical allowance," Nana supplied.
"That's something," Mom said pragmatically. "Ready to begin?"
I took a position in the center circle. I was flanked by Mom and Nana. Three generations united in purpose. Not to mention, desperate determination. The other witches arranged themselves at key perimeter points.
"Remember," Vera called softly, "the herbs respond to emotional states. Fear and anger will corrupt the spell."
CHAPTER 4
Vera's words about fear and anger corrupting the spell barely had time to register when a sound ripped through the night. It made every atom in my body stand at attention. It wasn't a howl exactly. It was more like someone had taught a rusty chainsaw to sing lullabies while gargling glass.
