Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

13

A flash of light burnt my retinas, so I pressed my eyelids together. The chimes continued until they found order in the tune of the White Paternoster. A prayer and a curse both, the old words wound around me; familiar and wrong at the same time, giving me nothing but uncertainty.

Was it a warning or a threat?

I knew when the brightness had faded enough for me to open my eyes, but still I kept them pressed tight, afraid of what I would see. Expecting the tortured, burning face of my father chained in a laboratory, I almost didn't recognise the large, empty hall that I found myself in. Cold white marble floor under my bare feet, smooth stone walls with ornate stained glass windows all down one side.
In the centre a tall silver throne stood, with branches rising from its seat, roots spreading below. But instead of bright silver like last time I'd seen it, the tree-throne was dull and tarnished. Thick branches reached out, but the leaves, previously full and abundant like in mid-summer, were gone. The tree was bare and sparse, a casualty of a harsh and unforgiving winter.

I knew now. The chimes that had brought me here were not those of the silver tree, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. There was no sense of foreboding, the silver tree's reminder that with understanding came responsibility and that clarity brought misery and loneliness. Those dark emotions had become like a blanket to me, wrapping me up away from those fortunate enough to still be blind to the harsh realities of the paranormal world.

This was different. The bleakness of the dying tree-throne hollowed me out while I stood transfixed by its empty branches and atrophied roots. At least the misery of the Tree of Knowledge was familiar. It was something I understood, something I could work with, however uncomfortably. This tree couldn't summon the notes that had brought me here. Not anymore. Its magic was all used up.
In time with that revelation, the notes of the White Paternoster warped into the crash and clatter of metal branches colliding in a wind storm; an anthem fitting for the sparse, skeletal monument before me.

If the silver tree hadn't brought me back to Jonathan's realm, what the hell had rung the chimes in my head?

Tearing my eyes away from the throne, I studied the walls, ceilings and alcoves of the great hall. Last time that I was here, they were packed full of grotesques and gargoyles. Frightening stone creatures, twisted and gnarled through their desire to possess my father's life-force.

The coven thought he was a monster for that.
I knew differently. I knew that he'd had no choice. He'd tried to hide, to keep himself away. He'd created this very place to live out his existence. But they'd pursued him.
What was he supposed to do? Let them drain his power? Let them keep him as their energy source, shackled and despised? Like the vampires were doing right now.

I took a deep breath. I was going round in circles. This was getting me nowhere. I could lament our misfortune at possessing this power all day, but it wouldn't help me. It wouldn't tell me why I was here, in this nowhere place, stuck outside reality while everybody I loved was in the real world.

Wait.

Outside of reality? What was it that Evan said about the Eye?

That it let witches access powers from outside Earth's realm. Jonathan had created an entire reality outside of the human world, and he'd controlled every blade of grass, every speck of dust.

Maybe this wasn't the first time that the Eye had opened. Maybe it had blinked for Jonathan too.

Suddenly energized by the realisation that I might be on the other side of whatever barrier the eye represented, I ran to the large wooded door. The tarnished iron doorknob was cool in my hand. I twisted it and pulled, excitement pushing the blood around my system faster and faster, my heart palpitating with the effort.
The first silver particles that I had seen for two weeks hovered above the exposed skin of my arms. Glancing down, I saw the tiny particles float around my legs. The slip of a dress that I was wearing didn't bother me anymore. Bare skin meant more silver.

A lump wedged in my throat. My magic really was back.

The euphoria was short lived. My life-force was regaining strength, but that didn't help me right now. The door held fast.

My tear ducts stung, the disappointment enough to call forth a scream of frustration that ripped out of my lungs and bounced off the walls of the empty hall, mocking me as it receded into nothing.

Just like my efforts to escape.

It was only when I turned back to the throne that I saw him.

His life-force glowed so brightly around him that I couldn't make out his features. Only that he was tall. Impressively so. He didn't speak, he didn't have to. I knew what he wanted and my body complied, moving towards him, being drawn forwards by the invisible force of his will.

As my feet stepped, one in front of the other, the brightness of his magic burnt my eyes, forcing me to shield my face.

"Oh, right. I forgot that you could see it," he said, the words forming a melody so beautiful that I almost missed their meaning.

Before I could answer, the brightness that masked his form dimmed to a shimmering halo of colours. I was faced with a tall man with such perfect Grecian features that I could hardly believe he wasn't an ancient sculpture.

"Your life-force," was all I could manage to stutter out.

"Well yes. I guess it would look that way to you."

"Are you a witch?"

"No, no," he chuckled as though I'd said the funniest thing in the world.

"What then?"

"What do you feel?" he asked instead of answering my question.

My eyes faded in and out of focus as I struggled to understand him. Goosebumps puckered my skin, following the progress of his eyes as they roamed over my body. My gaze followed his, travelling over my scanty dress, down over my pasty skin as I wondered what he found so interesting. It was certainly not my body. A man like that had no need for a woman like me.

"The silver, it's staying with me!" I blurted out in surprise.

I was used to seeing the particles of my silver life-force act without my conscious instruction. They usually spun out from me, forming strands and knitting together into a sequence, creating a pattern that corrupted the energy all around it.

But not this time.

This time they formed a tight silver band around me. I could feel the taught elasticity of the sequence, strong and coordinated. Most surprising of all, the magic was content instead of hungry and eager.

The silver magic was tame.

I couldn't fathom how, especially in the presence of such rich energy. The man's iridescent rainbow life-force was the strongest, most fertile energy that I had ever seen. The thin strands of its pearly colours were wound in a sequence of such elegant complexity that I almost couldn't follow its pattern.

Almost.

Minutes ticked by as I mapped individual strands of pure energy round in never ending loops that were solid like spun sugar, but elastic rather than brittle. Each strand had colours pulsing through it; miniscule glow sticks raving around the world's most beautiful DJ.

Or were they orbiting? I'd already swallowed my disbelief, and pretty much accepted that my father had managed to exist outside of human experience. Maybe those rainbow particles were orbiting a sun.

A God.

"What are you?" I asked, my voice rasping out in a harsh whisper.

She's asking that question a lot these days, but does Alice really want to know the answer?