I embraced my aunt. Bas hugged her next and was still holding her in his arms when I placed my hands inside the tunnel and ducked my head.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Alabastair said. “Maritza’s going to scan the room for further traces of your mother’s magic.”
“I promise to be careful, Tía.” I tossed the assurance over my shoulder, hoping my aunt would hear. If she responded, her words were absorbed by the stone. I paused to feel the walls around and above me. The tunnel had been bored out, rather than constructed from separate stones.
Here goes nothing.
“No, here goes the brave little witch, and now would be a good time for some help,” I whispered. Like a handful of glow-in-the-dark story threads.
No such luck. I swept at the darkness in front of me with one arm before moving forward. The lack of spiderwebs and slime ratcheted my fear down to a manageable level. “How are you doing, Bas?” I asked.
“I’m ruining a serviceable pair of bespoke pants, but other than that, I’m fine. Yesterday and today have held more excitement than I am accustomed to. Although, I must confess that ever since I became your aunt’s apprentice and her Demesne, life has become an ever-richer pageant filled with ever more…surprises.”
“What’s a domain?” I continued to sweep my arm through the air, plant that hand, scoot forward, and make a sweep with the other arm. Trying to keep up a conversation would cut down on my senses. On the other hand, chatting with the necromancer proved soothing.
Alabastair spelled out Demesne, then added, “The matrilineal side of your family is blessed with a tool for recognizing their life’s true love,” he said, “and I think that is all I should say for now. The rest of it is for your aunt or your uncle to explain.”
“Does it hurt?”
The necromancer paused. His chuckle grew into a sound that rumbled through his chest and echoed down the tunnel. “Only a little.”
“Great.” I shelved my curiosity and refocused on our task. A slight downward cant cautioned me to move forward with even more care. “Any theories about this tunnel? Where it leads? Why it’s here?”
Silence, then, “None whatsoever. Other than tunnels are difficult for creatures of the air to traverse.”
“I wish she’d left instructions,” I said, “a damn handbook, something.”
“Perhaps you just haven’t found it yet.”
I shuffled forward. “Perhaps someone took it.”
“Perhaps.”
Silence created a buffer between me and the crushing awareness of the stone all around. I picked up the pace of my awkward gait. Mom must have written something down and either neglected to let her estate lawyer or Serena know. Or maybe Dad had it—or knew of it.
Heriberto del Valle.
“Were my mom and dad each other’s true love?” I asked, knowing Alabastair might not yet be privilege to our family’s expanded history. “Did my mom experience the Demesne with my father?”
“They were—and are—deeply tied to one another, Clementine. I witnessed the strength of their bond the night I met Maritza and your grandparents, which was the same night Mari and I were bound by the Demesne. I performed a resuscitation on your father—as you know—with your aunt and uncle’s permission, and during his recovery, your mother’s ghost appeared to me. I worked with Mari to bring Moira forth, to help her make her form more…tangible.
“Your aunt—my goddess, she is brilliant—stitched a simple white garment for her sister, which allowed Moira to assume at least a modicum of presence. She and Heriberto had a reunion. We left them alone. And a few hours later, they were gone.”
He added, “That was two-and-a-half months ago.”
I moved forward. “Have you heard anything from either of them since?”
“Not a peep.”
I was used to my father being the silent partner in my parents’ marriage and in their parenting. And I had given up pretty much all hope of him appearing at the door with pocketsful of answers.
I was so focused on picking apart my feelings about my dad from my feelings about my mom, that I almost missed the transition as the tunnel leveled out and a glow appeared far ahead. “Bas? I think the tunnel’s coming to an end. I can see a bit of light.”
I pressed back, resting my butt on my heels, and kept my spine rounded and my head down. I closed then opened my eyes. “Oh. Oh, wait a sec.” Yep. There were squiggly lines forming in my vision and I was pretty sure they weren’t here to announce the imminent arrival of a migraine.
Story threads in myriad shades of greens and blues gathered a foot in front of me before beginning to stream forward. “There’s water ahead,” I said. “There are threads here that I can read. They’re indicating there’s maybe a pool or a pond of some kind? I can’t tell, but I know we’re heading toward water. And it’s fresh water, not salt.”
The story threads were getting bouncy, urging me to hurry. Much as I wanted to crawl faster, I couldn’t. The stone surface was too hard on my knees. As I shuffled forward, the glow at the end of the tunnel grew lighter.
Water. Gallons and gallons of water. I sensed its weight and volume, much as I had with the stone. The story threads were little hands—fluttery, excited hands—beckoning me to the opening at the end. To look. To be amazed.
It wasn’t a far crawl for me to be amazed, but it was a bit of a drop to the pool. “Grab my ankle, Bas. Please.” Cool fingers circled my lower leg. “Thanks. I need a sec to breathe through this vertigo. There’s a cavern ahead. And water.”
“Take all the time you need,” he said, relaxing his grip without letting go.
“I think I’ll do better if I’m on my belly.”
“Do you want me to keep a hold of your leg?”
“Yes. Please.” I went to my belly, mourned the probable ruin of my sweater, and crept forward, lizard-like, using my elbows to pull and my knees to push. The very
