Page 87 of Only You, No One Else

“At the time, with no medical advancements to speak of, their only option was a magical one.” She chuckled. “But the Grand Coven was shrouded in mystery. Somehow, your grandmother found a witch, a Fire Witch, and she came up with a spell that would guarantee her children. Twin boys.” She paused for a breath, her distraction taking on a life of its own. “But her assistance came at a price. This Fire Witch wanted to be Grand Priestess of the Coven, but she needed outside help.” She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “She needed a way to hold more power than her body could handle. You know that before Riley’s immortality spell, too much power could kill a witch, right?”

Caster nodded, riveted by the story.

Awe infused his mother’s words, and he remembered why he’d loved her stories as a child. She expressed every emotion in them, bringing the past to life. “This witch, Riley’s Grandmother, had an idea to infuse various objects with the magic her body couldn’t handle. Your grandmother told me that over the course of her pregnancy, the witch would visit with a new artefact. She would expel her collected magic into it and leave it with the royal family for safekeeping. Until one day, she found your grandfather inspecting those very swords. The swordsmith who had created them had spent years getting them just right, and they were meant to be battle weapons.”

Caster tilted his head to the side when she paused.

“The witch said their craftsmanship, the effort the swordsmith had put into making them, made them the perfect conduits for her magic. The King, your grandfather, refused at first.” She waved her hands. “He was at war with… I don’t remember who, and he needed his weapons. It is only when the witch promised him that he could still use them, that they would prove even more effective with her magic guiding them, that he consented. Turns out she had either misrepresented her magic or had been unaware of its effects. Perhaps it was the combination of the already special nature of the weapons and the magic; we’ll never know, but they proved very effective. They were the only weapons on the battlefield that could kill a Born-Vampire with a single stab or even the slightest of cuts.”

Caster gasped. That was not possible…

“Sure, they lost that quality when the witch eventually came for her power, but some of it must have remained in them. You can feel it when you use them, can’t you?”

“Yes.” He looked at Mark. “He could feel it.”

“My point is, my beautiful boy. The Goddess seemed to have prepared a weapon that could tear through reality to save him. The question you need to ask is not why she tests you, but why would she go to all the trouble?” She waited for him to find the significance of what she said. Their eyes met across the bed, and he squeezed Mark’s hand. “He came to you, now, for a reason. I think that something is over the horizon, something we will need to come together to handle, and he is the bridge connecting all of us.”

His father had said something similar, and as his breath washed over his tense muscles, Caster tried to see what his parents could. But all he heard, all he felt was the real shattering of his heart. Nothing meant anything if Mark could not find a way back to him.

CHAPTER 60

The brilliant light of this new place he found himself in did not feel threatening, but Mark was anxious, anxious enough that his body was in tension. It was everywhere, no sliver of darkness to be seen or the call of the Underworld to contend with. It felt safe, almost as though it was familiar, but its brilliance was something he wouldn’t forget if he’d experienced it before.

He shut his eyes, trying to find a point of contrast and reached for his animal companion. Separated into his distinct selves again, Mark knocked at the barrier that often held his animal self. It was tentative at first, but it split open to reveal his wolf, its calmness misplaced given the predicament they found themselves in.

Communicating the only way it could, the wolf flooded his body with so much healing, he sighed from the effect, the tension holding him in place easing into deep relaxation. He trusted the animal’s lead and opened his eyes, only for the brightness blanketing him to bring back all the tension.

His mouth formed Pierce’s name, but no sound would come. Still, he tried to hold an image of the demon in his mind, hoping to reach him, but all he saw was the brightness. What was this place? It was not the Underworld or the darkened void that was the border between the Underworld and the land of the living; that much was clear. How was he supposed to get out if he couldn’t figure out where he was?

Thoughts of remaining stuck here even when he sensed no threats increased his anxiety. That meant being away from Caster. His wolf howled, but not in warning. It was the basic call of community, the sound his kind made when they sought companionship.

He closed his eyes and reached for the clearest image of Caster he could muster. It took a breath or two, but as soon as he had it, his wolf howled for him again. The howl went unanswered, but it spurred him into action. Perhaps if he called to the connection of the protection spell, he would find a way out, or Caster would hear him.

It was far-fetched at best, but with nothing and no one coming to his rescue, it was his only hope. He reached past the barrier to gather strength from the strongest part of himself and reached for Caster. This time he attempted a combination of both his name and the perfect image of his face.

A rumble tore through the brightness, vibrating from his toes to the tips of his fingers. Startled, he lost the image of Caster, his name falling from his lips in a sigh, but his wolf signaled its encouragement by flooding his system with healing. He reached for the animal, its calm, quiet support giving him the dose of courage he needed.

This time, the rumble tearing through his prison of brightness did not deter him. He shut his eyes against his fear and screamed for Caster. The rumble grew to inordinate proportions, and he was knocked to the ground. His eyes popped open, and there he was, Caster, confusion marring his handsome features. A second later, Riley appeared, and both sides of Mark breathed a sigh.

***

Quiet. It was too quiet. The silence of his father’s house had always been a source of relief for Caster whenever he left the chaos of the Council meetings behind for a visit. But today, the last few days, it only grated on his senses. It was a poignant reminder that Mark was out of reach and nothing he could do would bring him back.

His mind spiraled as he took stock of the delicious chaos his life had become since the first time he saw Mark. Even then, unwilling as he’d been to admit it, it had been clear they were meant for each other. His mother’s assessment that there was something sinister over the horizon, one that Mark was meant to help him overcome, also rang true. It was perhaps the only reason for his unusual ability and the strength his wolf seemed to gather every time he was drawn into the Underworld.

But Caster didn’t care for any of that. He wanted Mark, his smile, the beautiful way his mind tackled problems and that perfect, rare laugh. He squeezed his hand again, willing any sort of movement, and lay his head on the mattress when it didn’t come. Despair was a constant companion the last few days; he feared he was beginning to get used to grief.

He closed his eyes and narrowed his senses to Mark’s heartbeat as was his ritual in the instant before his body gave in to sleep. The thud was reassuring, and he sighed, but then the second stopped mid-beat, fading into the distance, and he jerked upright, his mind reaching for Riley.

His reliable friend burst into the room, but Mark’s hand fluttered before closing on his like a vice, the pressure breaking the bones of his fingers. The pain was negligible, the healing a distant relief as Mark’s body thrashed with enough violence to shake the bed.

He tried to reach for him, to steady him as Riley’s power filled the room, ready to tackle the threat they still couldn’t see. The violence of the movement increased tenfold, and Caster screamed his name. A roar from his wolf, the sound as familiar to him as his own voice, answered Caster’s desperate plea for him to wake up.

He glanced at Riley, seeking any kind of assistance before a force pushed his whole being forward and he was swallowed by impossible brightness. It took a second for everything to make sense, memory of the last time this had happened drawing a roar from him. He looked around, ready to fight Zeke off, but light was all there was.

A low growl startled him from behind, and his claws retracted as he recognized it. Mark? He was in Mark’s mind space again, but as the light burned into his eyeballs, it was impossible to see much. The low growl echoed in the light again before an injection of Riley’s power tingled his skin. It surged and the light diminished to manageable proportions.

His eyes adjusted to the diminished light and he saw a flash of amber, the wolf stepping into his line of sight, its white fur blending with the light. It tilted its head as if asking him to follow, and Caster glanced at Riley, who nodded his encouragement, the full extent of his power still palpable.