Page 14 of Song of the Dawn
“You will have to be the leader. You have strength within you.”
Ginger crossed her arms. “Another reason the mortal shouldn’t be here.”
“She has a name,” I returned coldly. “Giselle and Dusty are mortals, even Rachelle, although she has the bloodline and doesn’t remember our other life nor wants to. Besides, we host mortals for months—”
“Rachelle will never ask questions because she’s blind to it!” Ginger snapped. “The guests aren’t here long enough to become aware, and none have seen the inner workings of the inn. Soon things will stop making sense, and she’ll start asking questions. How do you intend to explain magic?”
“She’s just like one of our guests and won’t notice, but if she does, we can explain. She came here to pursue her passion for music. If some of the mystical leaks out, it will be fine.”
Ginger snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will keep an eye on her too. This isn’t always up to you, Ginger,” I warned. “I have other duties she can perform with me.”
Smirking, Ginger paced. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Keep her close so you can flirt with her. Promise me this is only some minor attraction and you’ll get rid of her at the end of summer. Three months is long enough; any longer and she’ll grow accustomed to the magic here. And don’t compare her to Giselle and Dusty. You are well aware they don’t live in the house, and you do your best to keep them out.”
Grimacing, I nodded, recalling Endia, our former hostess. The story we spread was that she’d run away, but Ginger and I knew the truth. “I’ll ensure she leaves. She has a mother and a sister in the countryside. I’m sure she’d like to visit them.”
“See?” Ginger pointed a finger. “You said ‘visit.’ I mean ‘leave.’ Forever. If you get close to this mortal…so help me.”
It was cruel, but to defuse her anger, I changed the subject ever so slightly. “I know what happened to your lover, and I’m sorry. But this will not be a repetition of what happened between you and him.”
She scowled and went to the window, likely so I couldn’t see her tears. “It’s not the same. He wasn’t mortal, and she is. Have your flirtation, but don’t let it go beyond that, and make sure you’re clear with her. I don’t want to be left with the mess of a broken heart.”
I closed my mouth, unable to make promises I couldn’t keep. “Will that be all?”
“No,” Ginger snapped, facing me again. Her eyes were dark, but otherwise, she’d recovered from her memory of grief. “There’s a leak in the cellar that needs fixing, and Moses claimed he heard strange noises. It’s worth a look if you aren’t busy.”
“Tomorrow. Tonight I have to…” I trailed off, unwilling to form the words.
“Yes, work for her. I hope you figure something out, Ezra, and quickly. We’ve been banished for a long time, and I don’t like the constant threat of death hanging over my head.”
Right. People were counting on me. It was more than my life at stake. Standing with sudden determination, I strode toward the door. “I need to relight the wards and make sure the guests are all inside and accounted for. We can’t have any mistakes tonight.”
Like a soldier preparing for battle, Ginger straightened, her defiance gone. “It shall be done.”
* * *
Because of Ginger’s concern,I snuck to the cellar. The air was musty, damp, and I bumped against barrels of wine. When the slurping sound came, a tendril of fear wormed its way around my heart. That freakish sound reminded me of bloodsuckers. Listening, I waited for more, but the sound had ceased. Or perhaps it had been my wild imagination. In the cellar’s dark, it was too easy to envision nightmarish incidents. Tree roots that came alive to choke one; bloodsuckers leeching life from flesh, turning one into a rotting creation of death; and worst of all, the evil spirits out for revenge.
Moving quickly, I slipped into the secret tunnel that connected the inn to my tower. The musty press of earth above me increased my pace. The dark was absolute, but I did not bother with lights, for I knew where the path ended. Even my staff found this route too creepy to walk, saying prayers against lost souls or grisly creatures from another portal. I was careful each time I opened and closed a portal, to ensure nothing but myself went through. But there were other masters who could unravel the strings of destiny and undo what I had done.
When I reached my tower, I retrieved my violin, fingers stoking the elegant neck. My heart pounded, but there was no other way. It had to be done. As I recalled the sorceress’s demand, my decision firmed.
Returning to the tunnels, I continued further in, away from the lush pastures of my property and into the woods. Moonlight shone in a pale hue when I reached the shrine at the end of the tunnel. Long before my time, someone had built an altar, crowned with black candle wax and rotting vestiges of sacrifice: berries, twigs, leaves, and most disturbingly, bones. I imagined it had once been a place for human sacrifice, the remnants of an old religion where people believed giving a life would satisfy their gods and persuade them to be generous with their gifts.
Careful not to disturb the macabre treasures, I exited the moldering hut. The warmth of the night air was a relief after the stale musk of the tunnel, and I followed the sound of the waterfall to my familiar perch. After taking my violin from the case, I drew the bow over it, creating a long, sonorous tone. The air vibrated as the violin took a breath, its music pouring out, a powerful summons as long as my fingers played the correct notes.
My sense of right and wrong warred within me, something I was unused to but only because I did not wish to summon the spirit. I wondered if the sorceress could summon it herself and yet used it as a threat against me, for she did not want the stain of sin on her soul. Anger flared, but I forced it down, all too aware I needed to focus on the music in order to manifest my desires. I had to forget about my life before this hellish banishment, made gruesome by the tasks the sorceress forced me to perform in her name. But my former life was difficult to forget.
I played a few stanzas to warm up my fingers, the sound muted by the fall of water. Still, it was sweet and syrupy, my own peculiar magic.
My thoughts drifted back to before, when I’d been a knight who’d served the sorceress.
There were many of us under her beck and call, and we swore fealty and honor. We promised to obey, to protect, and one by one, we fell. It all started with the desire to be more than we should be, to possess the power the sorceress held. We experimented with magic we had no business playing with and used it to create. That desire was so potent it blinded us, led us astray, drunk with knowledge and magic.
I still recalled the first knights to disobey and their punishments. It should have been a lesson for me, but I wasn’t like them. Foolishly, I believed my superior thinking and determination would save me. I wanted to create and not just see the plants grow and the flowers bloom. I wanted to make life, in my own image, in my own likeness. But knights were not meant to create life, and when my creation took a breath, the monster destroyed everything within reach. Only the sorceress could stop it, and she banished me for what I’d done—binding me to a tower, an inn.
The owner was dying and the buildings falling into disgrace. It was simple for I and my loyalists to take over and establish ourselves in a new world. The sorceress took away our magic except mine so I wouldn’t forget. She still needed me, at least for a time, since I was the only one who could open portals into other worlds and travel between them.
