A Vial of Life

Amaya paused, crossing her arms over her chest. She ran her tongue along her lower lip, as though weighing her next words.

“So what now?” She cocked her head to one side. “I think you’ve caused enough destruction to this place… You’ve replicated the sense of hostility that your father endured, both surrounding and within the island—first by using my potion to attract swarms of savage mermaids, and then burning the homes of the islands’ leaders to the ground. You also dishonored them further by destroying their thrones and using the wood to craft a memorial in honor of your father… Jeramiah.” Her voice and gaze softened. “You have done enough for your father. Wherever he might be, I’m sure that he would feel avenged. Let’s leave this place and allow his and your souls to rest in peace…” Amaya drew in closer and, feeling for Jeramiah’s arm, aimed a kiss against his jawline.

Jeramiah’s face was stony as ever, and he appeared unmoved. He remained rooted to the spot.

“Besides,” Amaya continued, “as you already reminded me yourself, Nuriya’s leniency only stretches so far. We have already extended our stay past the time you requested from her, and if you force her hand, I fear you’ll regret it.” She peeled back the end of her right sleeve and began rolling it up her arm. “I’m surprised our marks haven’t been burning unbearably already…I’m just going to remove my invisibility for a second.” After apparently removing the spell, she pushed the sleeve up high enough to reveal her right bicep. Gazing down at it, she gasped. I moved nearer to see what had surprised her, but I should have guessed… she no longer had a tattoo.

Shock registered in Jeramiah’s eyes as he rushed over to the witch and gripped her arm, staring down at her bare skin. It was completely devoid of even the slightest trace of the black cross, as though it had never been there to begin with.

“Oh, my,” the witch breathed.

Jeramiah let go of her, and, parting his robe, rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to examine his own arm. His, too, was devoid of any signs of the imposing tattoo that had once marred it.

He fell silent, his demeanor infused with thoughtfulness.

“Interesting,” he said, his voice low. “Very interesting.”

The witch still appeared to be in a state of shock and disbelief. “What could have happened?” she breathed.

“I can’t be sure,” he replied in a voice as quiet as hers. “But it doesn’t matter. We are no longer bound to them. We are free.”

“But—”

Amaya’s response was cut short as the front door of the Great Dome rattled. Jeramiah swooped toward the memorial slab and the instrument so fast he was a blur. The next thing I knew, he and the witch had vanished.

Still in a daze of confusion myself, I turned to face the door to see my father striding in. He was followed closely by my mother, Xavier, and Vivienne, who was carrying her new baby wrapped in a blanket. Then entered Eli, Yuri, a heavily pregnant Claudia, Kiev, Mona, and dozens of other familiar faces. The only notably absent member of my father’s council was my grandfather. Each of their expressions was leaden and somber.

By now, the smoke had completely cleared from the room, and if it had left behind any scent, none of them seemed to notice it. Nobody made the slightest comment as they all took seats around the long meeting table.

I would’ve stayed to listen to what they’d all gathered to discuss, but my mind was tied to Jeramiah and his witch companion. I had to know what they were going to do next. I guessed that there was only one place that Amaya would’ve vanished Jeramiah back to—the old farmhouse.

I hurried out of the Dome. Passing through its solid walls, I raced back into the thick of the woods. I didn’t let up my speed until I had arrived back at Jeramiah’s hideout. I didn’t even bother to glance at the crowd of ghosts who were still waiting expectantly around the building. Passing through the old wooden door of the house, I found both he and the witch were in the living room again. Jeramiah was prowling the room like a panther, while Amaya was slumped in a chair, still appearing lost in a daze of relief and confusion. The memorial stone had been replaced in its former position, leaning against the wall.

“Something obviously happened to the jinn back in The Oasis,” she murmured, “but can we really be certain that just because the tattoo is gone, our connection to them has also been severed?”

Jeramiah didn’t stop pacing as he replied. “The absence of our tattoos doesn’t necessarily equate to the absence of their hold on us… but why would the marks vanish so suddenly? Think about it, Amaya. What possible reason could the jinn have for revoking them? There is no reason.” He shook his head emphatically. “No. I suspect that something serious has happened… Something that has weakened them, and caused them to recall their powers over others in order to reserve them for self-defense.”

“But what could have happened?” the witch asked. “Do you think the Drizans found them?”

Jeramiah shot her a curious glare. “How do you know about the Drizans?”

“Oh, I’ve had an inkling about the Nasiris’ adversaries for a few years now,” Amaya replied. “I overheard a conversation that I shouldn’t have between that little squirt of a niece Nuriya has and her mother.”

“Interesting,” Jeramiah said, momentarily distracted. “That loose-lipped jinni was the way I found out about them too.…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, if I have any theory at all, it’s as you’ve described. I’m not sure who else would pose a threat to the Nasiris other than the Drizans. Yes, it is only a theory, but even if I’m wrong, I think we ought to take any risk that could come with staying away… I mean, would you really willingly venture back into their lair to verify our assumption?”