sketchy,” Claire agreed with Aerin. “I'd feel better with more traditional weapons. Dru—War has a sword, and Conquest has a wicked bow and arrow. I want a freaking Smith & Wesson.”
“At least a sawed-off shotgun,” Moira added. “Someone needs their ass filled with buckshot.”
“I can afford to pay for security. I know you think this 'magic' stuff is all good and stuff.” Aerin said to Tierra. “But I highly doubt blueberries and whatever it is you're cooking, are going to keep them away.” She held up an apple for emphasis. “They are men. Some modern weapons might be a good way to go.”
“They aren't ordinary men,” Tierra said. “I don't see a bullet doing any damage.”
“Yeah, well…fruit probably isn't either,” Aerin pointed out. “So weapons might not kill them, but show me an immortal who isn't slowed down by a flame thrower.”
“Y'all quit your bitching and let's find somethin' in that there book to use,” Moira said. “Claire, can you toss fireballs? There has to be somethin' in there about using our powers and not just potions and spells.”
“Sorry,” Tierra said. “I guess, I'm feeling emotional.”
“You droppin' an egg into the chute?” Moira asked. “But if Claire heats up, I'd figure flowers would bloom around you.”
“Well, I'm bloomed out.” She wiped at her brow. “I'm going to go look for that scrying crystal while the potion cools.”
She turned and left the room, hearing Moira say to Aerin behind her, “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“It’s the fucking Apocalypse. If we don't figure a way to tap into our powers when we want to and not when we are pressured, feelings are going to be the least of our worries.”
Tierra knew Aerin was right, but she couldn't help these churning emotions.
Nature was all she knew. She didn't know what to do. Maybe her blood sugar was low? Either way, if she didn't cool off and get ahold of herself, she was going to cry.
And she'd cried too much lately.
The attic was even hotter than the kitchen. The air was stale and roasted her lungs as she dragged it in. She knew right where to go, as if the crystal called to her. A copper-metal box huddled beneath some old whatnots in a trunk that had been tucked in the corner. Tierra had seen it years ago, and something had made her return it to the bottom, hiding it under sweaters and old clothes. Her hand went right to the box, and she opened it. The crystal glowed in welcome, and her mood lifted at the beauty of the prism on a long golden chain. Clutching the crystal in her hand, she ran back down the four flights of stairs.
“Here!” she exclaimed. “I knew I'd seen it.” She set the crystal in the middle of the table.
“Wow,” Moira said, reaching for it. “That's purty, all right.”
“It feels really old,” Aerin said. “Like ancient. Where was it?”
“In the attic.”
“And you just found it?” Claire asked, her brows furling into a frown.
“I suddenly remembered seeing it years ago when I was, you know, shopping for clothes up in the trunks. It, like, called to me.”
“Let me see that.” Claire held out her hand for the crystal and placed the stone next to the picture with the scrying spell. “This has to be the same crystal used by this Malcolm de Moray. Eerie.”
“Seems like we've entered another dimension. Every day is freaky,” Moira said.
“And exciting,” Claire said. “You have to admit, you feel alive.”
“Sure, until we're all dead.” Aerin nodded.
“Get me a map.” Claire motioned for Tierra. “I'm dying to try this.”
Tierra produced a map of the state of Washington, and they cleared off the table. “For some reason, I think you need some mugwort, cinnamon, nutmeg, and yarrow.” She gathered the items and sprinkled them over the map. “Okay, go.”
“Stand back, in case…well, you know, just in case.” The three of them stepped back and Claire repeated the words of the scrying spell. She let the crystal drop from the chain as she held it loosely in her hand.
“Wait!” Moira called, scaring them all into jumping. “Sorry, but what do we do once we find them? And what if they feel us find them?”
“There's been no indication that our magic alarms them if they're not in our vicinity,” Aerin said, but she didn't look as certain as her tone.
“We don't know that,” Moira fired back. “Hell, we don't know anything.”
“Well, what do you suggest?” Aerin asked. “Sitting around with our thumbs up our asses