Linda Robertson - Shattered Circle

“Do not leave us here,” Talto whispered.

Liyliy pulled Ailo into their hug and by touch told them she had to do just that.

You have a binding upon you. If I free you, Menessos will follow.

Talto began sobbing.

Liyliy shushed her. Do not fear, little one. Listen to me. I must leave before they put a binding upon me and doom us all.

Ailo told her Menessos was not there. I saw him leave in a hurry earlier. To my knowledge he has not returned.

Liyliy asked why he had left. Ailo told her she had not been able to find out.

Still, Mero may be working on a means to bind me this very second, so I dare not linger. I will remain in contact via the phones, which you must keep secret. I will get you out, but I need you to be my eyes and ears inside the haven for now. We must tear them apart, weaken them as they have sought to weaken us. You understand this, yes?

“Yes,” Talto whispered.

“Ailo?”

“Yes. And I have an idea.”

Liyliy and Talto let her grasp their hands. She shut her eyes, and power flowed around her. Liyliy felt the energy reaching out, striving to touch something that was both deep within and far away . . . the binding. Liyliy listened inwardly and Ailo’s silent plea echoed into her mind.

She was searching for Menessos, reaching back along the bond imposed on her, stretching. She sought him out, eager to report to Liyliy what he was doing.

Ailo found him . . . but he was not alone.

He was performing magic—a heady, dynamic magic—and it felt familiar, like an ancient memory.

Recognition burst into their minds as one.

By the gods, he’s doing it again, Liyliy thought. We must use this.

It was barely six thirty and the day’s light had almost entirely faded as I slid my satellite phone into my pocket. After I’d finished my call to Menessos, Johnny’s text arrived—I was grateful for the distraction. He’d simply said he was on his way. Then my Great Dane, Ares, burst from the field and raced toward me in the grove. He was still pushing through the branches when Mountain emerged from the same spot the dog had. “Did you find her?” he asked.

“No,” Zhan answered for me. “She’s gone into the ley.”

Mountain scratched his head. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Everyone faced me, waiting for the answer. Looking at her empty little shoes made my legs weak and rubbery, but I was trying to reason this all through. “Bad,” I said. “I think.”

“Explain.”

“Witches use sorcery to tap into a line. It’s dangerous and painful . . . and, truly, we have to be very careful to not get sucked in.”

“So she was sucked in,” Celia said through her tears.

There were horror stories about such things. Witches of “ye olde times” who disappeared were often thought to have been dabbling in sorcery and fallen into the ley. Especially if items left on their altars could support such theories. But I had always regarded those tales as exaggerations meant to steer curious young witches back to their craft studies, much like tales of the bogeyman warned children not to venture from their beds at night.

“Explain how you use this board to tap the ley line,” Zhan said.

“I’m not sure. When I tap it, I do it directly, without an ancillary device.”

“Is the board significant, then?” She began pacing. “Is there a clue in it? Did that make it easier or harder to get sucked in? And does it hold an option for us—or rather, you —to bring her back out through it?”

My mouth opened but nothing came out.

All these rapid-fire questions bordered on an understandable panic, feeding my fears, but I couldn’t think clearly like this. I had to push the emotion away and concentrate.

My eyes locked on Great El’s slate. The symbols painted on it were eerily bright in the darkness as I considered it.

Tapping a ley line directly was certainly more dangerous, and potent, than using a device to filter it. Direct access left nothing to keep a witch from falling into the ley except the barriers inherent in a physical being touching a nonphysical world. I thought of it as an oil-and-water kind of thing. But . . . the inherent risk lay in the fact that the ley’s intense energy has the potential to transform tangible matter into intangible.

“The slate does not actually create the boundary between life as we know it and the other side,” I said. “But it should have acted like an additional buffer.”

“What do you mean by the other side ?” Zhan asked.

“Think of a spirit board like those huge gates in King Kong . It stands between you and a world of wonderful and strange things. The fencing is so high and thick that you can’t see over it or through it. There are other gateways, but this particular door has a neon sign above it that tells you this door is a unique spot, one where notes can be slipped back and forth underneath. You go there sometimes to ask those inside what it is like there.”

With tears brimming her eyes, Celia asked, “Do you mean heaven . . . an afterlife? Is she dead?”

The only answer I had was lame. “I honestly don’t know.”

Silence fell around us. Another thought occurred to me. I’d focused on the slate because it was right there in front of me and so terribly out of place, but there was something else here that was magical. The grove was all around me.

“Wait.” Mountain joined the conversation. “You said that the Ouija-board thingy should have been an extra buffer. When you say ‘should have been’ are you implying that it wasn’t an extra buffer, or that it acted as more of a secret side door?”

I fixed him with my gaze. The big, gentle man was smarter than most people gave him credit for. “Beverley couldn’t accidentally open a line and fall in, not with a spirit board, not even here in the grove.”

“Not even if she’s a witch?” Mountain asked.

“No. First of all,” I said, “lines do not randomly open when someone gets near them like the sliding doors at the supermarket. There is a process to opening them, you have to make your own keys. Witches do that, but it takes time and skill.”

Zhan crossed her arms. “You said not accidentally .”

I nodded. “Something took her in.” I didn’t want to think that meant she was gone. I couldn’t believe that. I wouldn’t. “Whatever navigated her into the ley must have had a reason, and for that, it will be shielding her.”

I said it like a command and I saw hope flicker in Celia’s eyes.

My satellite phone rang, the number blocked. “Hello?”

A smooth female voice said, “The precious thing you are seeking will be found beside the ley line at Mill Stream Run Reservation, but only if you hurry, witch.” The caller hung up.

I held the phone before me, wide-eyed. Ley line?

Zhan asked, “What is it?”

My broom would have been ideal, but I hadn’t seen it since Liyliy and I fought at Cedar Point. Zhan’s lead foot was the next best option. I grabbed her arm. “We gotta go.”

Without enlightening the others, I hurried toward the trailer where Zhan had parked her Audi. Once inside the vehicle, I told her we needed to get to the reservation and asked if she knew the way. “Absolutely,” was her reply.

She had us on I-71 in minutes, and, as expected, she cast caution to the wind and ignored the speed limit. “Why Mill Stream Run?”

I told her what the caller had said.

“This might be a setup,” she countered, slowing down.

“How? She dialed my phone and called me ‘witch.’ She knew I was looking for something precious, and knew it had to do with the ley line.”