Visit Evermore?
Again?
Last time didn't go so well, but mother had been drunk. The odds of it being so smooth again... Especially now we had Arabella in our home... I dreaded to think.
"Visit Evermore again? Asra, I don't know about that..."
"How else are we going to interrogate your mother?"
"I don't think she is the one we should be interrogating." I shook my head. "We need to find out if Flynn is my father. Is there another ball or anything?"
Asra frowned, staring down at me with concern. "There is nothing planned until the Harvest Moon, maybe the blood moon in winter, even so I rarely visit those celebrations."
"When is the Harvest Moon?" I wondered.
"September time." He shrugged. "Did you know the super-moon is tonight?"
"What's that?" I wondered.
"Just a bigger moon, which means stronger instincts."
I stared at him before shaking my head and going back on to the previous topic.
"I don't want to go back to Evermore."
"What's holding you back?" Asra sighed.
I turned to Evangeline, finding her leaning forward in her seat. Her chin lay on her palms, elbows resting on the sofa as she peered at us with a broad grin. Instead of answering her, I frowned with concentration. Witches were fickle, they liked games. Even Asra said so.
So, what if what Evangeline was saying was more factual that I thought?
She was a fate too, which, apart from seeing my soul, meant she could not tell the entire truth without affecting the future.
What if Alison was interfering with wolves?
What if her grandparents were of wolf blood?
I never met her grandparents, and she never spoke of them. What if they were still alive? Finding them could give us answers, and answers could point us in the right direction of their involvement with my father.
Perhaps from there, we could find out who my true mother was and where she was today.
What if she was alive? How many family members do I have?
And my father, he had those banned human goods hidden under the floorboards. How did he get them? He told me they were my grandparents, so who's side? His? Alison's? Or my mother's?
And who was the witch that cursed me? The witch was stronger than Evangeline.
But yet, how did Evangeline know my father? She knew he liked to swim. Was that because she saw my soul, or did she genuinely know from experience?
Too many questions and not enough answers.
Blinking back into the present, I found Asra smirking at me.
"Can we research some names?" I wondered.
"Names?" Asra wondered.
"Alison. I think she is involved with the wolves." I suggested. "There are a few names I think could lead us towards finding out some history. If it comes to a dead end, then we can go to Evermore."
"That simple?" Asra wondered.
"Yep. That simple."
He studied me before making a soft noise of acceptance. "Okay. Write whatever you know down and we will work from there. Evangeline, I assume that is the end of your capabilities?"
"I have helped as much as I could. She is a fast learner." She grinned again, glancing toward me.
I blushed softly, shaking my head. "I am just thinking."
"Such factual thinking deserves credit." Her head cocked, those bright golden eyes shimmering. "But yes, I have done what I can and I believe that is has been sufficient."
I stared into her eyes, a feeling of understanding in my chest. It felt heavy, a proud smugness that caused me to smile softly at her words.
"I think so too." I nodded, agreeing.
"You sure?" Asra wondered. "If you ever need Evangeline again, she will charge us. May as well make the most of it whilst she is in favour to me."
I laughed, and the witch rolled her eyes. I dreaded to think what a witch-cross-fate would want as a payment for help. Hair or blood? A soul or a first birth daughter?
This wasn't Rumpelstiltskin.
"I am positive."
His head dropped with acceptance, and soon we were saying our goodbyes to the witch. Her stubby hands wrapped around mine, surrounding my fist into her warmth. I inhaled sharply as the warmth travelled up my arm, settling and spreading through my body.
"There is a beast in you, Ailia Thorne. You are stronger than you give yourself credited for."
Whether metaphorical or literal, I felt her truth in my soul.
I blushed softly, dipping my head with thanks. "Thank you for coming."
A gentle pat to the back of my hand and she released me, turning to Asra. "I am assuming I am to leave with guards."
"You will."
"I can just teleport, makes it easier since I am leaving with permission."
"If you insist." Asra shrugged.
"Oh, I do." She grinned and then, with a shimmering pop of air, she was gone.
I blinked, staring at the place she once stood with astonishment. I leaned closer, waving my hand over the spot just to make sure.
She had truly just turned into air and vanished.
"She's gone?"
"Pretty much."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Home?"
"How?"
Asra chuckled. "Materialised, then re-amalgamated at her destination. It takes seconds."
"Interesting how the magical live. That would've saved me a lot of hunting." I muttered.
He grinned, pulling me to his side. "We will figure this out. But first, you get writing those names."
I squeezed him back, planting a kiss on his shoulder before I moved away. His answering purr was soft, a gentle appreciation of my affection. Moving to his desk, I took out some paper from his drawer and gripped his pen in my fingers.
"Can I sit in the big chair?" I cocked my head, pointing to the dark leather.
He rolled his eyes. "Yes. I just need to leave for a moment. I will be right back."
I narrowed my eyes, sceptical. "Why?"
He grinned. "I am getting us food."
"Oh. Is it that time already?" I wondered.
"You were asleep for a while, yes." He nodded.
I glanced at the clock as I sat in his chair, eyes widening when I saw how late it was. It was dinner time!
I also saw a recorder on his desk that he soon pressed stop on. I raised my eyebrows, glancing between the device and him.
"I documented the enchantment for our records." He shrugged. "Better to be safe than sorry. Listen if you wish, there's a lot of white noise and it's over a couple of hours long. The two triangles are fast forward."
I cocked my head, peering down at the machine with wonder. Asra's knuckles rapped softly on the desk before he turned and left, the door shutting softly behind him. My fingers danced over the play button, contemplating if I even wanted to listen to the other side of my dream.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled sharply before letting my finger press into the play. Static white noise sounded before the familiar voice of Asra rumbled through the small speaker. I listened intently, waiting for anything interesting to happen. I lazily listed names and information as the tape played, before skipping most of the silence and soft breathing sounds.
"You are a different man with your flower, Asra." Evangeline's voice was muffled.
I blushed softly, shaking my head at his curt thanks. She continued to mutter about my vision in the lake, exclaiming that I projected it to her. She mentions how blocked my father is, claiming it was the magic of a spell and not of my intention.
It was strange that I could force such a memory upon her when most of my childhood was an enchanted blur. Why did my brain want her to see this one so badly? What was the importance of it?
Was it about Alison's anger or the fact she was not my blood?
No, that seemed insignificant compared to everything else.
It had to be the moment I sat on the stairs listening to the adults talk. Alison was agitated, but my father was cool as a cucumber. Their plans were discreet, and not entirely direct. It was hard to figure out what the plan was other than to get into Evermore.
But perhaps that was it. It was a way for me to see that we were not originally from there. My father had been planning this for years, and the timeline matches Flynn's lack of record. If he was my father, it would make sense. But the first three or four years of my life were unaccounted for.
For now.
"Ailia is but a guest." Evangeline's mumbling caused me to stop writing.
"And the man?" Asra grunted.
"Whoever cast it did not want somebody to pry." She continued. "They wanted his image cleared from Ailia's mind. Most of this dream is... warped."
So, I was right; someone wiped my childhood memories. Perhaps this is why my mind wanted Evangeline to see this dream. So she could see the parts of my memories that I could not access on my own.
Suddenly there were a lot of loud breathing sounds, and a muffling crash of hitch pitched ringing. Asra's voice was distorted as he called out to Evangeline, the woman not responding. Ruffling, muttering, chanting, before Evangeline's breath became sharp. She sucked in bouts of air, her chest wheezing on the exhale.
"What happened?" Asra mumbled.
"This is something so much bigger than we realise." Her voice was hoarse.
"How so?" Asra wondered.
Shuffling again, the recorder hushed. "Her father is involved in something. Something so deep is involved that it wipes his entire memory from her brain and replaces it with faux stories."
"Even the swimming?"
"No, those were too strong for the witch to delete." She sighed.
"Any recognition of the magic?"
Pause.
Shuffle.
A clearing of a throat.
"It is a female." Evangeline muttered. "A female pure blooded witch."
"Pure blooded? There are just a few of those left."
"They are old. And old witches have more power than I can interfere with. It would not surprise me if they notice what I have already done."
"This is risky."
"It is." She agreed. "I shall wake her and we will see what she remembers."
The recorder fell silent, soft muttering as Evangeline brought me out of my sleep. I sighed, hitting the off button and putting down my pen. My hands fell to my hair, squeezing at my temple with frustration.
I didn't even know what to think anymore.
There was too much going on.
I groaned, pulling at my hair before picking my pen back up. Lazily, I scrawled the last of the names before glancing at the clock. Asra had been gone forty minutes and a sudden dread settled in my stomach.
That was a long time to get food.
Unknowingly, I searched for that part of my mind and heart that reached out to him, blinding calling his name. Longingly, I wondered where he was until finally; I felt the shift and a soft sigh trickled through my mind.
'Tulip?'
My shoulders sagged, the unneeded tension melting like ice on a hot day. I felt my stomach settle, the tightness of my hands relaxing from the grip they had on the table.
'I got talking with Everett. I apologise. On my way with your favourite.'
Unable to respond, I muttered an okay out loud and glanced back down at the paper. I would ask him what they spoke about when he arrived, because it was a long time for him to 'talk'.
Whilst I waited for this 'favourite' food, I stared down at the names on the page. I idly picked up the pen, retracing the first name again. It was the only name my father ever mentioned of my grandmother, claiming the books he hidden were hers. I hoped my mind was lying to me, the conversation so miniscule that I doubt the witch picked up on it. I had locked it tight, held on to the memories of human freedom so I could dream about it one day.
Tracing a line under the name, I finished with a full stop before sighing.
Rune.