us gathered around, eager.
Dimitri glanced up and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind. If someone is going to bewitch and torture this combination out of anyone, I’d prefer it to be me.”
Diana nudged me as she crossed her arms, and we turned our backs. “Gallant, as always.”
Dimitri dialed the longest combination in history, then pulled the vault open. Inside lay an envelope, a homemade book made of orange construction paper and something small wrapped in blue cloth. He carried the objects to a clean spot in front of the fireplace and we gathered around.
He shifted his weight from side to side and for the first time seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t see what anyone, besides me, would want with any of this.”
I touched the old orange book. A green string bound together several pages and on the cover, written in a child’s hand, it said, Dimitri’s book about Dimitri . Two smiling creatures flew in the clouds below the title. From my experience with preschool drawings, I knew they could be anything from bears to ice cream cones, but I had a feeling these were griffins.
“Mom made that with me shortly before she died,” Dimitri said.
Diana took the book and studied it.
“This,” he said, pulling a folded parchment from the envelope, “is a copy of our family tree. There are others in the house. But this one was illustrated by my father, for me. It was a tradition in our clan.”
Diana looked up from the picture book. “I still say we should hang it.”
“I know,” he said, automatically. “I remember the day we drew it together. His leaves were green, as they’re supposed to be. I made mine yellow for fall.”
Diana snorted. “You just had to be different.”
“Yeah, I did.” He folded up the paper quickly, as if the memories were still too fresh.
“And what’s that?” I asked, resisting the urge to pull open the blue cloth and see what it hid.
“It’s important to me,” he said, lifting it gently, “but nothing of interest to a demon.”
The mention of the word demon jarred me out of the moment. I pushed it down. Focus. I had a fresh perspective on this. Maybe I could see something the rest of them didn’t.
Dimitri unwrapped the package to reveal a jaggedaquamarine stone. It fit easily in his palm and radiated a quiet beauty. One could feel calm and harmonious simply looking at it.
“This is a piece of our mother’s Skye stone,” he said. “It’s the only part that she didn’t—” He stopped, unwilling to go on. “I’ll tell you later.” He cleared his throat. “My sisters work with their own larger stones, the ones that contain the most energy.” He touched a reverent finger to the very center of his mother’s stone, and it glowed in recognition. “This fragment is of sentimental value only.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He tried to smile. “Yes. Diana and Dyonne have the real power over our ancestral home and lands. If you don’t believe me, just ask them. My sisters will be more than glad to tell you how the lines of ancestral magic run through the women in our line.”
“It’s true,” Diana said, touching him on the shoulder. “Big Brother here may have the strength to protect, but we’re the ones most closely tied to our home. It’s the way it’s always been.”
I nodded, realizing how it had been even more tragic, then, when the women in his clan had no hope of living to an old age. They died young, knowing their clan would wither and fade. I’d seen how Dimitri’s tree narrowed rather than widened at the top.
He gave the stone to Diana and it practically pulsed in her hand. “Diana is regaining more of her powers every day.”
“More like refinding.” She stroked the stone and it glowed even brighter. “We’d been so focused on the curse, we hadn’t spent much time exploring what else we could do.”
Now they’d be free to live.
Too bad I was still trapped. I’d never be free until we could find who had taken that part of
Dimitri glanced up and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind. If someone is going to bewitch and torture this combination out of anyone, I’d prefer it to be me.”
Diana nudged me as she crossed her arms, and we turned our backs. “Gallant, as always.”
Dimitri dialed the longest combination in history, then pulled the vault open. Inside lay an envelope, a homemade book made of orange construction paper and something small wrapped in blue cloth. He carried the objects to a clean spot in front of the fireplace and we gathered around.
He shifted his weight from side to side and for the first time seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t see what anyone, besides me, would want with any of this.”
I touched the old orange book. A green string bound together several pages and on the cover, written in a child’s hand, it said, Dimitri’s book about Dimitri . Two smiling creatures flew in the clouds below the title. From my experience with preschool drawings, I knew they could be anything from bears to ice cream cones, but I had a feeling these were griffins.
“Mom made that with me shortly before she died,” Dimitri said.
Diana took the book and studied it.
“This,” he said, pulling a folded parchment from the envelope, “is a copy of our family tree. There are others in the house. But this one was illustrated by my father, for me. It was a tradition in our clan.”
Diana looked up from the picture book. “I still say we should hang it.”
“I know,” he said, automatically. “I remember the day we drew it together. His leaves were green, as they’re supposed to be. I made mine yellow for fall.”
Diana snorted. “You just had to be different.”
“Yeah, I did.” He folded up the paper quickly, as if the memories were still too fresh.
“And what’s that?” I asked, resisting the urge to pull open the blue cloth and see what it hid.
“It’s important to me,” he said, lifting it gently, “but nothing of interest to a demon.”
The mention of the word demon jarred me out of the moment. I pushed it down. Focus. I had a fresh perspective on this. Maybe I could see something the rest of them didn’t.
Dimitri unwrapped the package to reveal a jaggedaquamarine stone. It fit easily in his palm and radiated a quiet beauty. One could feel calm and harmonious simply looking at it.
“This is a piece of our mother’s Skye stone,” he said. “It’s the only part that she didn’t—” He stopped, unwilling to go on. “I’ll tell you later.” He cleared his throat. “My sisters work with their own larger stones, the ones that contain the most energy.” He touched a reverent finger to the very center of his mother’s stone, and it glowed in recognition. “This fragment is of sentimental value only.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He tried to smile. “Yes. Diana and Dyonne have the real power over our ancestral home and lands. If you don’t believe me, just ask them. My sisters will be more than glad to tell you how the lines of ancestral magic run through the women in our line.”
“It’s true,” Diana said, touching him on the shoulder. “Big Brother here may have the strength to protect, but we’re the ones most closely tied to our home. It’s the way it’s always been.”
I nodded, realizing how it had been even more tragic, then, when the women in his clan had no hope of living to an old age. They died young, knowing their clan would wither and fade. I’d seen how Dimitri’s tree narrowed rather than widened at the top.
He gave the stone to Diana and it practically pulsed in her hand. “Diana is regaining more of her powers every day.”
“More like refinding.” She stroked the stone and it glowed even brighter. “We’d been so focused on the curse, we hadn’t spent much time exploring what else we could do.”
Now they’d be free to live.
Too bad I was still trapped. I’d never be free until we could find who had taken that part of