Page 45 of The Bairwick Witches
The timer signaled the moon had risen to the correct point in the sky. Schuyler quickly healed his palm. He and Issac swung the cauldron around on the arm, tipping it and pouring the potion on the prepared grave at the exact moment the first rays of visible moonlight touched the ground.
There was silence which Schuyler recognized—the bated breath of the spell—the pause after a ritual was completed, before the forces of magic rolled on.
This spell moved forward by shooting lightning up from the grave. Sharp, crackling bolts haphazardly shot off in all directions in a frenzied show of force, some reaching toward the sky. The ground around the grave rolled and moved up and down in deep breaths.
“The incantation.” Schuyler nudged Issac to begin.
Issac nodded and summoned the floating journal closer to him as white smoke billowed off the ground. The grass and dirt crumbled and fell apart, caving in on itself, leaving behind a black hole from which the lightning erupted.
“Mors bis remota,” Issac yelled above the winds. “Through stars and shadows, we evoke the soul. Deep within darkness, beyond time’s toll.”
Schuyler spotted the thick, messy black hair atop Dev’s head rising from the opening the potion created. As the vessel rose, levitating upward, Sky’s heart quickened, his emotions lurching forward, despite his attempt to contain them in the surreal moment unfolding before him.
“With ash and wax, with flower and bone, return the one who’s been alone.”
Their pictures together, all the ones he’d taken of Dev, were in albums within boxes stored away in closets with the promise they’d be revisited again on a rainy day. Diving into the analog past was more a task when the memories did not live easily in a phone’s gallery or were stored away on a drive.
The image of Dev, kept only in Schuyler’s head, never faded, however. His handsome strong profile remained as vivid as if Sky had seen him the day before. His full lips, his dark complexion, slender fingers, the smoothness of his skin, and the fullness of his body hair. There was his firm chest, dark nipples, and soft stomach, which Schuyler always loved to lay his head upon.
There he was now, Dev’s body anyway, floating two feet above the grave in the tailored suit and cloak he’d been lovingly buried in, like the last time Schuyler had seen him.
“By blood remembered, by blood unbound, I summon thee to sacred ground.”
Around the vessel an aura grew stronger, wavering from the body in a bright borealis. The blue aura spread out over the vessel unleashing a flurry of crackling energy which shot off.
“Through veil and void, let soul retrace. Unbind these chains death did lace”
Behind the vessel, a spectral figure began to emerge from the intensifying light of the aura, entangling with the body—portions dipped into the vessel, other parts not.
“Find the vessel summoned above, not in wrath, but with love. By ancient vow, by moon’s pale face. Let spirit remember time and place!”
Issac stumbled back once done, feeling the toll of the magic he’d expended.
Schuyler’s focus remained on the vessel, who spasmed and twitched, as the spectral form slid completely in and opened Devion’s eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
The winds calmed, the light show faded, and the cemetery slipped once again into its comfortable stillness. Schuyler felt both apprehensive and stunned. The fear of the Elders awaking had not nagged him during the ritual, but now he worried they might have broken the Edict somehow, especially since Devion was there, floating in the air.
Dev’s hands roamed over his body, stretching his arms and legs, working every muscle, bringing movement back to every part of him. Schuyler marveled that even in the witching world, with all its wondrous knowledge and capabilities, a moment so stunningly surreal could still exist. He wanted to run to Dev, to touch him, to start talking—but Sky remained behind the altar, unable to do anything but stare, standing beside Issac, who was equally silent and in awe.
Devion’s attention focused on his vessel, ensuring he worked out every muscle before he looked out in front of him. The moment he saw Schuyler, a smile Sky had not seen in twenty years shone back at him. And with it, a realization: Dev and Issacshared that smile. It was the one trait of Issac’s Sky could never put his finger on.
He’s right there.
Dev floated toward the altar, his eyes only on Schuyler. When Issac went to speak, to introduce himself, Dev waved his hand and commanded him to sleep. Issac dropped to the ground, passing out. Schuyler was torn, with part of him not wanting to move as Dev drew closer, and part of him wanting to check on Issac.
“He can wait,” Dev said dismissively, his bare feet touching the ground in front of the altar. “Hey, baby.” He reached out and grabbed Schuyler’s hands, moving him around the altar until they were in front of each other.
Dev’s face was youthful perfection. Schuyler wanted to withdraw, to turn back. “I’ve aged, and damn, you’re still twenty.”
“Smudge,” Dev said lovingly, his hands moving all over Schuyler’s body: his face, tugging on his beard, his hair. Once he started, he never stopped, kissing Schuyler between words, hugging him tightly. “Age only made you better. Mmm, damn, the beard. Babe, I’ve wanted to touch it since the first time you showed up here with it.”
“What do you mean? You’ve beenhere?”
Dev motioned to the headstone. “I would sit there and listen to you. I felt helpless a lot. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t touch you, or help you when you were sad. I couldn’t help when you had an issue, or protest when you said you were leaving Bairwick, or running off to marry some low-level witch.
“And you were so upset the other day.” Dev squeezed him tightly. “I wanted to say something so badly, but I couldn’t.”
