Shadow Rites

“Then I shall face the dawn one day hence,” Edmund said, his brown eyes on the floor at my feet. “I will have this day to sleep here, in the council chambers, in safety. Then I must remove my belongings and myself. I no longer have the funds to purchase a lair in such a short time period, and banks are notoriously difficult for Mithrans to deal with.”

“Hotels? Boardinghouses? Acton House caters to vamps.”

“I am yours. Send me where you will.”

“Twenty-four hours,” Eli said, sounding as if he was holding in laughter. “We have time to figure out something.”

* * *

I might have slept, because when I woke, Eli was carrying me toward the sweat house at Aggie One Feather’s place. It was dawn, and the eastern horizon was golden as viewed through the pine trees near her home. Eli pushed open the door with an elbow and knelt on the packed clay floor, sitting me down in front of a fast-burning fire. The sweat house hadn’t been used in a while; I could tell because the air moved with the rising heat and the coolness of the wooden walls. And because there were no coals in the pit, only crackling wood, hickory and pine and cedar. I looked back to the open door to see that the rain had stopped. Mosquitoes buzzed in a cloud, kept at bay when Aggie closed the door on them.

I lifted my left hand. It was shaped like a war club, bones protruding beyond the pelt, bones that had no order or direction, as if they had been built by a toddler with sticks and Play-Doh. My wrist was now involved, the bones bulging. In a normal human wrist, there are twelve main bones. My left wrist looked as if I had twice that many, the tendons attached in the wrong places, stretching in the wrong ways, pressing apart the bones of my lower arm. I was in agony. Closed my eyes and cradled my arm against me.

“How long before the witch is here?” Aggie asked.

“My brother is bringing her,” Eli said. “ETA twelve minutes.”

“I’ve never allowed workers of magic into a sweat.”

“You’re gonna need them. This is a magical attack on Jane.”

“We need her out of her clothes. It’s going to hurt her.”

“No, it’s not.”

I heard the familiar sound of steel sliding from a leather sheath and then Eli was cutting through the expensive clothing, undies and all. “Perv,” I whispered.

“Totally, babe.” He unbuckled all my hidden weapons and piled them beside me. “Miz Aggie, you got scissors? I don’t want to risk the blade near her arm.”

“I brought a pair,” Molly said from the door.

“I am Aggie One Feather. Welcome. Have you ever been to sweat before?”

“Witch version. Not Cherokee. We’ll work around it. What feels right from both practices, blended to help Jane. Yes?”

“I suppose. . . .” Aggie didn’t sound all that certain.

But Molly did. “Thank you, Eli,” she said. “But you need to go now. We’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Molly said. “This is women’s work.”

“Technically, it’s Tsalagi work,” he said.

“True. But also, technically, it’s not men’s work and it’s also not military work,” Molly said with asperity. “Honestly, Eli. Your energies are all wrong. You might cause problems with ceremonial aspects of this. We can handle this. Please go away.”

“You may wait with my mother, Eli,” Aggie said. “She was making breakfast when you called. Pancakes.”

Eli didn’t reply. He just turned on a heel and left the sweat house. I could smell his frustration and worry over the scent of burning wood. And I caught a whiff of Alex on the air as well. I managed to get my eyes open a slit while the women finished ruining my clothing, and I found Aggie in my blurry vision. “No more cats.”

Aggie laughed. “How is Kit-Kit?”

“She’s Molly’s familiar now,” I said. “She adopted her.” Which might imply that Molly had adopted Kit-Kit or that Kit-Kit had adopted Molly, which was closer to the truth.

“My mother said Kit-Kit was supposed to keep you alive, someday,” Aggie said, reminding me of the prophecy warning.

“Mighta already happened,” I said, remembering the lightning that had struck me. Kit-Kit had been there and I had survived. “Or if it hasn’t happened yet, then she’ll be there when I need her.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Molly said. “I’m Molly Everhart Trueblood, earth witch with a touch of moon magics. I am honored to be seated before your hearth. That’s an old witch pleasantry, which means you’re in charge and I’m your willing and helpful assistant.”

“Except where Eli was concerned.” I could hear the laughter in Aggie’s tone.

“Men. Always underfoot.”

Aggie laughed and I felt the two women move toward accommodation until Aggie said, “You are pregnant. I can’t let you stay for a sweat. It’s bad for pregnancy. I’m sorry, but you have to go. You can’t stay here.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying the whole time. I’ll be in and out. Mostly out.” She patted her baby bump. “Casandra Evangeline Jane Yellowrock Everhart-Trueblood is demanding.”

And a witch, I thought. Cassy’s parents didn’t yet know if she was a double-gened witch like Angie, or a single-gened witch like Molly. Either way, she would already be demanding. I remembered Molly pregnant with Little Evan. Her tantrums and emotional outbursts had been spectacular.