Beatrix’s home isn’t very big and wouldn’t suit a claustrophobic person, but it’s cozy in its own way.
The walls are painted a deep brown, and wooden shelves line them with books and trinkets—things most people would ignore rather than buy if they stumbled across it. Old books take up most of the shelves, loose sheets of paper hanging out of some of them. It smells like herbs and spices in here, as well as old, wet paper. Taper candles are neatly placed throughout the cottage, the flames lit, their wax melting and dripping onto whatever surface it can reach.
Beatrix hums as she moves through her home. She reminds me of the psychic woman from my world who swore I’d never find love. What a time that was.
“Right this way,” Beatrix chimes. She leads us through her living room—past two brown chairs, a wooden coffee table, and lamps on the side tables that look like they’ll break with a simple breath—until we’re greeted with an oval table near the kitchen that seats four.
“Have a seat,” Beatrix says, taking the chair closest to two double doors. She sits and folds her hands on the table. I take the chair to her left, and Caz claims the chair on the opposite side. Alora remains standing, choosing to watch while Proll stands guard behind her.
When I look down, there are foreign symbols etched into the table. Triangles with lines, oblong circles, and other shapes I’ve never seen before.
“How did you get here?” Beatrix asks, fixing her eyes on me. “I assume it happened quickly—a suction in and then a sudden drop?”
“Yes,” I say. “It was exactly like that.”
“And, let me guess. This dark soul found you.” She jerks a thumb at Caz, who flares his nostrils. I get the sense he hates being talked about like he’s not in the room.
“His wolf found me first, actually.”
Beatrix smirks, and Caz’s jaw ticks. Then his eyes swing to the right, dropping to the floor, and he tenses in his chair. I frown and lean over a bit to see what he’s looking at. At first, I don’t see anything, not until it moves. A spider—but it’s unlike the spiders where I’m from. This one is big, black, and hairy—like a miniature tarantula.
Beatrix looks at the ground with him and continues a smirk as Caz slides his chair to the left.
What? Is he afraid of the spider?
“Worry not,” Beatrix says, grabbing an empty jar from the shelf near her. She removes the lid, scoops up the spider, gives the jar a light shake, then replaces the lid. Once the lid is secured, she places the spider on the table right next to Caz, and I watch as Caz draws in a deep breath before putting his focus ahead again. “Those spiders can be pesky. They love my home. Sometimes I feed them. That one’s named Ori. Or maybe Ori is in the kitchen and this one is Hurn. Hmm. I’m not sure.”
Caz’s jaw pulses. “Can we get on with this, please?” he demands.
“Of course. Lend me your hand. You as well.” Beatrix extends both arms in opposite directions so Caz and I can take them.
Caz frowns at her hand before carrying his gaze up to hers. “Is there another way this can be done?”
“Touch,” Beatrix says, smiling at him. “You hate it, you poor thing. You have no idea what you’re missing out on by covering yourself up so heavily.” She sighs, as if bored with him. “Don’t worry. You’re from my world. I don’t exactly need to touch you to see what will come.” She looks at me. “But I do need your hand.” I place mine in hers, and she wraps her dark, nimble fingers around it before closing her eyes.
As she does, the room darkens, a heavy shadow hovering above us, and I refrain from gasping as the lights flicker. Some of the symbols on the table illuminate in a striking neon purple, each one coming alive as Beatrix inhales then exhales with her eyes still shut.
I glance at Caz, who keeps his eyes fixed on Beatrix, then switch my sight to Alora who is watching it all, fascinated. Beatrix grips my hand tighter, hers becoming cold like ice until finally, the glowing symbols turn back to normal, the lights stop flickering, and she opens her eyes, exhaling again.
She turns her gaze to mine, not blinking, then she turns to Caz. “She must be gone within the next week.”
“How do I get her back?” he asks without hesitation.
Beatrix pushes out of her chair and marches through her tiny home. My eyes follow where she goes, and she stops in front of a tall bookcase, snatching a book from the third row, and returning to the table. She drops the thick book and flips it open, fingering through the pages.
“You were right, Alora. They share a Cold Tether.”
Alora nods, as if she knew it all along.
“It’s been so long since I’ve encountered this kind of Tether though,” Beatrix goes on, a dip forming between her brows. “What you two have is powerful. I—I haven’t seen this kind of Tether in so long. The kind pulled from two universes. “You can hear his thoughts.” Beatrix is still flipping through the pages. “And the longer you’re around him, you’ll eventually begin to feel his pain. And he will feel yours. Here.” Beatrix lands on the page she’s been looking for and places a finger on it. “The Cold Tether,” she says. “The Cold Tether is so powerful, so extreme, that within only a few days, things can become fatal for both of you. The more you two are together, the more dangerous it will become for you to be around one another.”
“How?” asks Caz.
“Yeah, how?” Because last night, Alora made it seem like a Cold Tether was a beautiful thing. Now this Beatrix woman is telling me it’s a fatality?
“There is a Vakeeli being who hunts for Cold Tether mates and harnesses their energy because it’s pure and still has the power of the Regals. It wants to keep it for itself, use it for to grow stronger. And it has, with time.” Beatrix flips the page, and a chill runs down my spine when she reveals an image of something I’ve seen before—something from my nightmares.
It’s a figure in all black, wearing a hood. It’s sketched on the page in what looks like charcoal, so the image is smeared, but the crescent eyes are as red as blood. It’s similar to the grim reaper, but deadlier, scarier.
“They call it Mournwrath. It isn’t defined by gender, and according to legends, it does not have a face, yet it can turn into anyone it wants to get what it needs. It has hunted the Cold Tethered since they were created by the Regal, Selah. It was over a century ago that I last encountered a couple with a bond like yours. Two days later, they were found dead. Their bodies were pale, their faces sunken in, as if all the life had been drained out of them, and their skin was cold. Colder than the ice of Luxor.”
I work hard to swallow. I don’t know what Luxor is, but the way she describes it sounds serious.
“That sounds like the couple from Vanora,” Alora murmurs, her face ashen. “No one could explain their deaths.”
“Yes,” Beatrix goes on. “I warned that couple; I knew that if they stayed together, they’d probably not see the next week—that Mournwrath would look for them, absorb their Tether, feed off of them like a leach, until they were no more. They didn’t listen.” Beatrix looks between us. “I get the sense you two don’t very much care for each other, so the sooner you separate, the better.”
“Okay, but how do I get back home, to my world?”
“Right. Here.” Beatrix flips the page again, revealing a paragraph written in very small script. “You’ll say this chant in the place you dropped. Wherever you landed is where your portal home is. You’ll see it open when you say the words, and it’ll take you back. But when you return, he cannot be there.” She turns her eyes to Caz. “If you’re near the portal, there’s a possibility that a trace of you may trickle into her world, making it much easier for Mournwrath to find her. And believe me, it will haunt her, if it hasn’t been already. It’ll get inside her head, make her think crazy things just to get her to open the portal back up. It can only feed when you’re together and in love—which will happen, whether you want it to or not.”
“Trust me. We won’t have to worry about that,” Caz declares, and I roll my eyes because I knew a smart-ass remark from him was coming.
“Is there no way to stop this thing regardless?” I ask.
“There’s always a way to stop something,” she says, smiling a bit. “But whatever method is used is not heard of. You see, the Cold Tether is so rare that when one encounters it, it’s too late to learn what to do or where to go next. Many believe Selah had a way to work around it before her disappearance—a possibility for the Cold Tether to last without being attacked by Mournwrath—but after so many centuries, Mournwrath has only become stronger and is practically unstoppable. We can only learn when the Tethered are together, and when they agree to become one, or as I said, fall in love. That’s when the bond is most powerful. I believe you two have been safe thus far due to your clear disdain for each other.”
“So, I say a chant in the forest where I landed, and it’ll take me back home?” I ask. “That sounds easy enough.”
“It’s that simple.” Beatrix scribbles something on a sheet of paper and slides it across the table to Caz before slapping the book closed. “Go today, back to where you came from. Get it done and get it over with. And whatever you do, don’t go falling in love along the way. It’ll only make your lives harder.”
I push to a stand just as Caz does. “As I said before, you’ll have no concern there. No one’s falling in love. She’ll be home before we all know it. Thank you for your time, Beatrix.”
Alora smiles graciously at Beatrix, but just as she starts to speak, the house shakes, like an earthquake is passing. Trinkets on the shelf clatter, the windows rattle, and the floor vibrates beneath my feet. I look across the room at Caz, who is drawing his gun, but it’s too late.
An explosion so powerful rips a hole in the side of Beatrix’s house and causes everyone to fall.
