Sulis slipped from the bed with growing unease, almost expecting another cartwheel into her past. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Eddie, prodding him in the arm. He looked at her for a moment as she opened the curtains and made sure no dream logic was being applied. Aside from being a blustery late summer’s night, Lake Huron looked normal enough. The shores stretched either side of Livia’s expensive home. Sulis remembered bugging her to build one close to Sam’s tribes. A decision that had a bitter ironic twist now. She stood taking in the view for a few moments, smiling to herself. Nyx and Nugget appeared next to her slippers, relief rolling off them like the waves outside. Only once it had finally sunk in that she was home did her brain finally decide to notice something.
“Hang on, why are you in my wife’s house?” the sireless asked, turning around to look Eddie over. “Are you real? Am I dreaming again?” she inquired, her confusion building as her ears picked up the sound of Sybil singing a hymn while cooking.
“All that spiritual stuff musta cooked your noodle a little eh?” Eddie teased with a broad smile before tossing her a blood bag. “S’been three days. Drink” he asserted before waving to her over his shoulder. Apparently, it would be easier to explain once she’d seen the good news. And what she’d done to Livia’s garden.
Sniffing the blood experimentally, Sulis sighed and slurped the mediocre bouquet she’d been given. At least it wasn’t man blood this time. She wondered whether her phone was still in her bedroom at the castle. She should probably call her wives. Though a small part of her demanded otherwise. That she wasn’t done just yet. She should find Tallas before anything else.
Her attention was drawn as they made their way down the right-angle wooden stairs. Pictures Livia most likely told guests were her ancestors. But there she was, sitting on the lap of her witch bride. Sulis saw herself in a pose that many historians would term “good friends”. Though in fairness, romantic friendships gave the brides a lot of cover in the 19th century. She smiled, fingers touching the glass of their old photo. Livia looked every inch the royal consort. Sulis looked just as defeated as she’d felt. Then there were the pictures of other people she’d abandoned. Rose, Elizabeth, Thomas and Renee. She hoped they didn’t hold the extra year against her. It had been a long way back. As the sireless reached the main hallway, she followed Eddie to the living room and adjoining kitchen. It was there that her jaw fell open.
Deliah sat next to Judith on the sofa, the knight teaching her about the modern era. Today’s subject was apparently phones. Sulis stood, watching them for a moment. Eventually, the noblewoman and her knight would have to return to Empress Eleanor’s world. But for this moment, there was peace. Blissful, restorative peace. Deliah was the first to notice the sireless, looking up before leaping to her feet. The redhead threw herself around Sulis, almost breaking her ribs with an embrace. She returned the gesture, forehead pressed to her friend’s shoulder.
“Sorry, still getting used to sensation” Deliah chuckled as she released her ailing elder. Sulis could only nod, a stupid grin colouring her features. Sybil paused in her preparation of Eddie’s supper to shoo Nyx from the bacon they so coveted, turning to her friend with a curious expression.
“Your actions upon completing the ritual were passing strange. We were worried you’d completely lost yourself,” the noblewoman observed with a mild expression. She paused to flip the sausages before sniffing at their quality. “Why of all places did you pick this strange freshwater sea?”
Sulis’ thoughts stalled, almost audibly making the noise of a dial up connection. With a pained gasp, she reached into the pan before tearing a small chunk of bacon free. She fed it to Nugget, asking she check for signs of possession. It wasn’t likely especially given the Lady needed no help in affecting the material world. But it was always worth being cautious. A few moments later, Nugget reported with a thin voice that she wasn’t, nor had she been recently. Scratching her head, the sireless supposed she was most likely sleepwalking under the influence of a spell. A rare and powerful magic but not something the Lady would struggle with.
“What’s going on at the castle? Are the refugees safe? Are the spirits free?” Sulis bombarded them with questions before her face shifted in realisation. “Where are the clergy?!” she suddenly panicked. She’d left god’s strongest warriors in her halls unsupervised. Spirits only knew what they’d get their grubby hands on. Ansa’s tomes on poison and charms alone would catapult the Church into the 12th century. Thaddeus would kill her if they got their hands on the Order’s copies. Was he even still alive?
“Fear not, I evicted the menfolk at sword point when I discovered them in your library,” Judith smirked while she toyed with the phone in her hands. Wait. That wasn’t hers! Sulis raced over and took it with alarm on her face, ensuring that nobody had seen her texts. Thankfully, it seemed the knight and former sword hadn’t worked out her passcode. “Apologies, I felt it beneficial we had a prop to teach Deliah. And Edward sleeps during the day.”
“My name’s Eddie,” Mary’s twin griped. Sulis noticed he’d lost some muscle mass, leaning on the doorframe with the stubborn steely stare of a man taking physiotherapy outside the doctor’s office. “Don’ worry ‘bout my legs. Jus’ gotta get ‘em strong again,” he winked as he noticed Sulis’ stare. She nodded, reminding herself of her manners. “Livia let me stay in this place ‘til I found my feet, so t’speak. Even put in the good word wit’ the local cops.”
“You’re still with the police?” Sulis asked with surprise. It seemed so mundane, to be chatting about his job. But the phone in her whitening knuckles wouldn’t wait forever.
“If y’can count desk duty as policin’,” Eddie grunted with a scratch of his chin. “Shoulda seen their faces when their new guvna rolls up in a wheelchair” he cackled, imitating Sulis’ admittedly posh British accent. It was better than trying to parse the arcane nonsense that was human bureaucracy. She fixed him with a concerned expression before he waved it off. “Naw don’ worry. Told ‘em I got shot. Didn’ have to say who by though,” he mollified her, kissing his knuckle in thanks to his strange gods. At least it wasn’t Yorwen’s, Sulis thought grimly.
The five of them relaxed, allowing the sireless to get her bearings before she had to fix the garden. Apparently, whenever they’d brought blood into her room the last few days she’d simply sat up and held out a hand expectantly. She wasn’t sure if they were messing with her or not so let the matter drop. Agata had gone to check on the refugees and their leader, assisting them in repairing Gronsburg. At this point, Sulis felt like it would be best to bow out and let those hurt by her actions find some semblance of what they’d lost. From then on, they could make up their own minds. A notion that could easily be applied to other problems, she thought briefly. She removed her phone from her pocket for the third time that night, staring at the picture Livia had chosen. Just after her return to life, as it were. All four of them, embracing and basking in their reunion. With one exception. She looked into the eyes of her past self, the forced smile on her face. With her expression set, she stood from the TV coma they’d been enjoying and began her journey to the front door.
She told her friends the truth. That there was something that needed doing before she called New Orleans. With that, she stepped into the chill night air. A cold breath that promised the arrival of autumn. The gardens were mostly normal, their usual manicured raised beds of herbs for witchcraft and cooking. As well as a few wildflowers that enticed bees from the hives in the forest. Too far from any HOA to raise a stink about it. And the array of reliable luxury cars Livia had procured saw that civilization was never too far away. What wasn’t normal was the lawn they often picnicked on in days gone by. Much like Cavendish Manor’s basement, it had been wildly distorted by the portal. For some reason, it had chosen to manifest horizontally as if the garden had a basement.
“Stop this nonsense now” Sulis grumbled to her castle, curling her fingers as if beckoning a dog. The door righted itself, space seeming to smooth into something resembling normalcy. Bricks began to form from the hinges, growing into a magnificent arch over the wooden doors. “Much better. We’ll say you’re an art piece if anyone asks.” Sulis beamed, content that the problem with her landlady had been addressed. She was extra thankful no hapless human or novice witch had seen the doors and tried to enter. It was a little up in the air as to whether the defences still had mercy.
With the garden put to rights, she continued down the path toward the forest proper. She hoped Livia hadn’t destroyed it in the intervening years. It would be like her to destroy a symbol of her wife’s betrayal. Did they see it like that? Perhaps it would be smart to ask. Her thoughts briefly turned to Ansa. Nobody was going to like her plans for the ancient witch. Especially not Sigrun. She shook her head, arriving at the low waterfall that had been the one island of peace she’d had in the 19th century.
It was set in a beautiful clearing that caught the moonlight perfectly, sending luminescent shafts into the water that lit it with a silvery sheen. The soft earth had been carpeted with dead wood, leaves and undergrowth. It brought memories of Mora and the forest they’d hidden in as teenagers. Where their love blossomed. With a breath to steady her nerves, she climbed the worn wooden steps she’d hammered into the steep incline next to the waterfall. They led to a plateau of rock that let her feel closer to the stars. And as she strode across it, she exhaled with relief. It was still there. A seemingly normal boulder set as an island in the stream. An ordinary rock positioned to sweep the soul away should anyone die on it. Or something similar to death. A spell fatally flawed and made in desperation.
Sulis pulled her flint knife from her waistband and kissed it for luck before reaching down to take up a hearty chunk of basalt. As she waded up to her knees through the stream and shifted onto the rock itself, she took in the shape. Aptly, it was like an oblong coffin. Big enough to lie on even for her. It had been chiselled with the markings of witchcraft. A beautiful marriage of Native American and European practice. Roughly circular to limit its effects, the writing was in the language of spirits. A lynchpin mark had been placed under where Sulis had lain a century and a half previously. It was to that mark that Sulis set her knife.
“Sorry brother, but one of us was going to break it eventually,” Sulis apologized to thin air, lifting her basalt. With a prayer her craft would keep the dagger whole, she brought her improvised sledgehammer down with a shower of sparks. Pain lanced through her skull, the binding fighting against being undone. But it had to be. With a roar, she struck it again. She gritted her teeth, breathing quickly against the white-hot brand that had been shoved through her skull. Noticing that the tip of her dagger was now bored into the rock, Sulis slammed down with both hands and almost fell into the stream as the pain rebounded. For Sam it would be a dull echo, a mild headache from a spell long cast. But as the target, she had to undo it. “You’re giving me my days back. Give them their wife” the sireless growled. She would never know rest while her greatest mistake was whole. “I reject everything you are. Everything you made me into” she continued as if in prayer, inky eyes focusing as the knife sank only millimetres per strike. “I didn’t need to leave them behind. I didn’t need time. I ran away because I couldn’t face it.” She howled with pain as the next strike hit home, a crack beginning to bloom across the whole stone. “I won’t run again. So in the name of the spirits, fucking break already!” the sireless bellowed, her nose trickling with blood. With one final strike, she hit not her dagger but the lip of the crack.
A deep rumbling sounded. More like an earthquake than a single boulder shattering, the rock beneath her knees gave way. The writing upon it flared with an angry red glow before Sulis tore her dagger free of the crumbling ruin beneath her. Leaping away, she wiped her nose on the hem of Livia’s pyjamas. She watched as the glow died. The long-dried and decayed sireless blood flaked into the sky as the last dregs of a spell that should never have been cast left the world. Sulis wiped her eyes, a sob escaping her as she smiled up at the moon. It was done. She’d finally atoned for it. Sam was surely aware what had happened now. He wouldn’t need long to work it out.
Before her brother could get the jump on her, she opened her phone and held her contacts screen in shaking hands. She didn’t know who to call. Which of them to apologize to first. The witch composed herself, suppressing the almost unhinged relieved laughing. It had been a purely symbolic gesture. Nothing more than a tantrum. Why had it helped so much? The weight was gone. The guilt. The Lady’s reminders had been the push to do it. To disavow her fresh start. She was Sulis and required nothing else. Goodness was not something she had to strive for. It was inherent to her as it was with all people. She’d just forgotten it for a time.
“Sulis?” Livia’s fearful voice came over the phone’s speaker. “Where are you? Are you alright?” she asked insistently, panic almost entering her voice. Her wife almost broke down again hearing the voice of her testudo. The relief was immeasurable.
“Hey love,” she answered. She wore her heart openly, letting it flow through her voice as she spoke. No more politics. No more queen. No more imperium. “I’ve been on a little journey. Fixed a few things. Broke something else. But I’m good. Better than good. I feel fantastic. Like myself again,” the sireless gushed with almost girlish enthusiasm. One tempered by the sheer tempest of conflicting thoughts inside her. “I miss you. And I’m sorry you missed me.”
“Are you coming home?” Livia asked almost fearfully. She hissed something to someone in the background in her best waving off tone. The sireless couldn’t help herself, laughing shortly at her wife’s prickly nature.
“The castle put me up in Michigan. I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to see me again,” Sulis answered with a small voice, warmth infusing her as she felt her blonde bride’s concern. It was foolish, juvenile almost to think that way after two thousand years of marriage. But she’d thought that way about Ansa. Which reminded her.
“We were scared you utter moron!” Livia laughed, almost incredulous that her wife would have believed something so silly. Maybe it was smarter to ask them what they thought before assuming. Her own memories had been lying to her for centuries. Well, not exactly. Massaging the facts would be more accurate. “I’ll send the plane. I’m sure Eddie can take you to the airport,” the Roman began fussing, directing those out of earshot to make arrangements.
Her wife had to be reminded that the castle was quite good at traversing large distances. Especially when it hadn’t been breaking down for a century and a half. Livia seemed sheepish as she remembered the castle’s presence, asking whether her room was still intact. Nothing a bit of spring cleaning couldn’t fix, in the tattooed woman’s estimation. But no doubt her Roman would be checking every inch for cobwebs and dust the second the portal opened. Once Livia was suitably calm, her wife felt it was time to spring the unfortunate news on her. It had to be done eventually.
“Can I ask one more favour?” Sulis asked with a conflicted tone. “I need to speak to Ansa. Privately. Please make sure she stays in New Orleans. At least until the castle recharges,” she directed with an almost pre-emptive wince as she heard the blonde drew a sharp breath. But something stalled the telling off she was likely to receive. Almost like Livia had some bad news of her own to impart. Sulis’ intimate knowledge of her wife told her it was probably something she didn’t want to say over the phone. Fair enough. Sulis wasn’t exactly being forthcoming about her plans either. “It’s had a few days so it should only be a few more hours. Then I’ll be with you again.”
“Don’t go” Livia suddenly insisted, her voice stricken with panic as she sensed the call coming to an end. She seemed to catch herself, smoothing out her tone when next she spoke. “It’s just so much has happened since you’ve been gone,” she added with a stiff tone that made Sulis smile. Putting on a brave face again.
“I don’t need to be in the castle for long. But I do need to get ready. If you saw the state of me,” she giggled weakly, looking down at the sodden shins of her pyjamas and the utterly ruined slippers. Saying nothing of the dirt that caked her ankles and the unkempt black bird’s nest that was her hair. “I’ll be right here, with Eddie. And you girls can text me as much as you want. It’ll be a nice present when I get out of the shower.”
“Promise me you’re not going to disappear again. It’s becoming a habit” Livia insisted before quieting her tone again with a little humour. The sireless attempted to reign in the sadness before giving her word. With a deep breath and thanks, Livia passed on the message. “We love you. Understand? And not a damn thing spirit or natural, mortal or monstrous, will ever change that.”
Sulis didn’t have much to say to that. It surprised her, the idea bringing strength to her voice as she bid her wife farewell. And the insistence that she felt the same way no matter how strange she’d been acting. As she returned to the house, she took her wife’s words and wrapped them in that notion. She hadn’t been herself, but they loved her anyway. She had to believe that Ansa deserved the same devotion. Sulis knew from personal experience that there were few things as powerful as a kind word and an offered hand.
As she returned to the house, she found Sybil and Judith standing on the doorstep arguing in French. Or something related to it. As the sireless appeared from the forest with her sodden and muddy clothes, they stopped dead with surprised expressions. Sulis smiled sweetly before infuriating her distant wife by walking up the stairs and toward the bathroom. She spoke enough French to get the gist. Apparently, hearing improvised quarrying had alarmed them enough to consider investigating. But Eddie’s fine-tuned instincts told them it was probably a bad idea. And he was right. Her witchy self didn’t want someone spying on those moments. The space between recovery and madness that had been. As she turned the shower on to warm, she closed her eyes and expanded her senses.
Rather than the tepid toe-dip it had been before, she submersed herself in the spirit world. She heard the choruses of minor spirits flitting about, their universal language eluding her for now. But it wouldn’t forever. The work needed just one more thing. And she prayed his headache hadn’t soured his mood. Retreating to the mortal world, she briefly felt the touch of Tallas before entering the shower. She was smug, as always. But prouder of herself than usual, refusing to pass on what she knew. All she could wrangle was an instruction to consult her beloved Ansa.
She had no time for that nonsense, cleaning herself as quickly but as thoroughly as she could. Once dry, she pawed through the clothes Livia had bought over the years. Though they were nowhere close to the same size, there had to be something that would work. She eventually found jeans, borrowing a shirt from Eddie and a pair of work boots that had once belonged to an unfortunate landscaper. Most likely pressganged into being a donor after seeing something he shouldn’t have. She looked herself over in the mirror, grumbling before rolling the sleeves up over her elbows. Safiya might have preferred hiding her tattoos but not her. Still, Olivia had chosen to get them on her face and upper torso. Now that was a brave choice. Once satisfied she looked suitable, she promised herself a shopping trip once she got back to Britain. A year of scrounging clothes was ill-fitting in more ways than one.
As she returned to the group, she searched the fridge. She took an onion, beef steak and herbs from Livia’s spice rack. Sifting through twelve thousand years of memory, she began filling a deep pot with what smelled like stock. The other vampires and police officer looked at her strangely, but she didn’t care, using her flint to chop the vegetables into rough-hewn chunks. In too went the meat, Sulis humming a tune to herself while she worked. Once she was satisfied with the cooking, she washed her hands and dropped into the armchair across from the TV.
“Wha’s all that ‘bout?” Eddie grumbled with an eye at the merrily simmering stew. “I jus’ ate.”
“Back in the day we didn’t really have much besides whatever the land threw at us. A lot of the time we ate stew,” Sulis explained with a light tone, eyes focused on the news about a riot in New Orleans. Could be nothing. Or several vampires were about to go for a swim in the Gulf of Mexico. “In the middle of winter, my mum would make a stew out of whatever we had in storage. Onions, herbs, maybe a carrot or two. I’m talking their ancestors here. When things got really bad, dad would kill an aurochs and we’d share it with the whole village,” she continued with a distant look. Even Yorwen had gratefully taken a bowl when times were lean. “I guess I’m reminding myself how far we’ve come. Winter used to come carrying a knife. Now she comes bundled up in a cloak. A friendly old dear.”
The edge in Sulis’ voice wasn’t lost on Sybil and Judith, who knew the other names the Lady of Avalon had collected over the centuries. The Horned One. Obvious to those who’d seen her real shape. Cailleach, the hag who brought the winter. Though her touch had long since fallen from this story, the sireless felt uneasy about what she’d learned. There was a connection between her and the black goat. Perhaps they were like Chernabolg and his brother. One balancing the other. Good and evil. Though Sulis struggled to call the Lady anything short of malign. Maybe she was good by comparison only.
“Took my words to heart, eh?” Eddie grinned before toasting his mug of coffee with a wink. “To how far we’ve come. And how far we’ve got to go.”
“Too right. Deliah, can you braid my hair? I want to look my best for them,” Sulis affirmed before turning to her friend. She quickly got to work, having done the same for her daughters years ago. It was probably instinct by now. “Ay Eddie, fancy coming to New Orleans with me? You can see the inside of the castle.”
“Damn right. Hometown’s gone up like a tar barrel,” he grunted. “’Sides, I wanna see my lil’ sister.”
