I open my eyes with a groan and try to swallow, but my mouth and throat are so dry, it feels like the saliva is riding on sandpaper. I shift in the chair I’m on and jerk forward, realizing I’ve been restrained.
When I look down, I don’t see anything wrapped around me—no rope or cords or chains. I try again, but my arms don’t budge. There’s something there though. I feel it constricting around my arms, pressing into my skin.
“What the hell?” I breathe, trying to move again and failing.
A deep groan rumbles next to me, and I look to my right at Caz. His head lifts, wisps of hair clinging to his damp forehead.
“Caz? You okay?” I whisper. Talking makes my mouth feel dryer.
He blinks a few times before finally focusing on me. He also tries moving out of his chair but is forced back into the seat.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands.
When he turns his head to look around, I do the same. We’re in a dark room with vintage floral wallpaper, minus one wall that has a mid-size mirror on it. The mirror’s frame is intricately designed with a gold border. Candles flicker before it, plants surrounding it, alive and dead. I carry my gaze up, and instead of a ceiling, dead flower stems dangle from above.
Ahead of us is a two-top table, a round glass bowl in the center filled with Mardi Gras beads, and a container of strawberries. More candles are on the table, the wax from them dripping onto the aged wood. Just like Phil said, it smells of incense and a whisper of fish. The incense give off a sage and dragon’s blood aroma, and I see them burning next to the mirror on a stand, small embers falling off and turning to ash on the floor. The fishy smell has me confused. I’m not sure where that’s coming from, and I don’t have much time to figure it out because a person appears at the opening behind the table. The woman who answered the door steps around the corner with her hands at her sides and her chin raised high.
I hold back a gasp as she makes her way toward the middle of the room, looking us over with piercing blue eyes. She wears dark colors like blacks and deep greens, and she’s dressed in so many layers that I can’t decipher what part of the outfit is what. A kimono, a corset, a camisole, waist beads, leggings beneath a billowy brown skirt. And her nails—I see why they looked like claws from her silhouette outside the window. They’re long, stiletto-shaped, and painted a striking silver.
She’s quiet as she strides around our chairs, her head cocked, studying nearly every detail of us. Then, finally, she speaks.
“You’re Cold Tethered.” Her voice is soft but husky, and she has an accent similar to Alora’s.
I look to Caz, who is glaring at the woman with a rapidly ticking jaw. His eyes move to the right at a shelf, and I look with him. His gun is there, not too far out of reach. If only we could move, he could grab it and use it.
“Let us go,” he demands.
The woman clasps her hands in front of her. “You angry little boy,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “How did you find me?” She swings her eyes to mine, awaiting my answer.
“Research,” I reply softly.
“Hmm.” A smirk curls at the edges of her lips. “Research,” she repeats, then she moves across the room, taking down a wide brown chest from the shelf.
“So, you’ve found Yakaree. Well done.” She opens the chest, taking out a silver dagger with a tip painted blood red. “But you shouldn’t have come here. I’m not quite sure how a Cold Tethered couple has made it to Earth together, but whatever issues you carry with you, I want nothing to do with them.” Then, in the blink of an eye, she’s standing behind Caz, pressing the blade of the dagger to his throat. No, she did not walk, or skip, or hop to him. She moved from one side of the room to the other, faster than I could blink.
“No!” I scream.
“Fuck,” Caz croaks as she presses the blade deeper into his throat. “I knew she’d be a vanisher.”
“So. You’re the Vakeeli born,” she says breathily. “Good to know. It’ll do me good killing you first.”
“Wait!” I call just as she presses the blade deeper, drawing blood on his throat. “Please—look, we’re not here to cause trouble. We just have questions. Yes, it is true, a Cold Tethered couple isn’t supposed to be on Earth, right? It’s likely never happened before, and you’re probably confused and don’t want to deal with it, but I can explain, okay? A Mythic sent us here. She helped us escape Decius before he could steal our Tether.”
The woman’s icy eyes slide to mine, but she doesn’t remove the blade. “Decius,” she hisses.
“Yes—him. He’s after us, and we need a way back so we can get to The Council. We were just hoping you could open a portal, take us to them. They provided a way to protect us from Decius before, and if we can just get to them—”
The woman raises a hand, and relief sets in when she snatches the knife away from Caz’s throat. Blood drips to his collarbone, and he grimaces as she walks around him.
“Decius is after you?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“And who is the Mythic that sent you here?”
“A woman named Beatrix.”
“So why did you pop up here with a weapon? Clearly to hurt me, no?” The woman’s eyes slide to Caz. “Speak, boy,” she demands.
“We’re not here to harm you. However, the name of your shop is the reason I brought a gun with me,” Caz states. “My mother told me about the term yakaree. It’s a word used to cause someone’s demise. You lure people here and create their downfall. I was only preparing for any tricks you had.”
At that, she smirks. “Tethered descendant of Lehvine. Such a bullheaded man.”
She looks at me. “Daughter and one of the twins of Jesha and Valkee.”
“So, you’ve studied the history of the Tether. You know all the original Tethered and their children, I reckon?” Caz asks. “That means you can help us, correct?”
The woman waves a dismissive hand. “No, it does not.”
“Then how do you know so much about Vakeeli?” Caz counters.
The woman raises her chin at him and then she snaps her fingers, and the invisible restraints on us fall away.
“Because I am Korah, Regal of land, air, and all living things of Vakeeli except the Tethered.”
