Untamed

'Well, perhaps you should read the poem to me. Maybe I'll recognize it.'

'Yeah, that's what we thought, too. Okay, here goes.' Sightlessly Aphrodite held up the sheet of paper with the poem on it. I took it from her and started to read:

Ancient one sleeping, waiting to arise

When earth's power bleeds sacred red

The mark strikes true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise

Here Grandma stopped me. 'It is pronounced t-si s-gi-li,' she said, with special emphasis on the last word. Her voice sounded strained and she spoke almost in a whisper.

'Are you okay, Grandma?'

'Go on reading, u-we-tsi-a-ge-ya,' she commanded, sounding more like herself. I kept reading, repeating the last line with the right pronunciation:

The mark strikes true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise

He shall be washed from his entombing bed

Through the hand of the dead he is free

Terrible beauty, monstrous sight

Ruled again they shall be

Women shall kneel to his dark might

Kalona's song sounds sweet

As we slaughter with cold heat

Grandma gasped and cried, 'O Great Spirit protect us!'

'Grandma! What is it?'

'First the Tsi Sgili and then Kalona. This is bad, Zoey. This is very, very bad.'

The fear in her voice was totally freaking me out. 'What's a Tsi Sgili and a Kalona? Why is it so bad?'

'Does she know the poem?' Aphrodite asked, sitting up and taking the washcloth off her face. I noticed her eyes were starting to look more normal and her face had gotten some of its color back.

'Grandma, do you care if I put you on speaker phone?'

'No, of course not, Zoeybird.'

I pressed the speaker button and went over to sit on the bed beside Aphrodite. 'Okay, you're on speaker now, Grandma. It's just me and Aphrodite here.'

'Aphrodite and me,' she automatically corrected me.

I rolled my eyes at Aphrodite. 'Sorry, Grandma, Aphrodite and me.'

'Mrs. Redbird, do you recognize the poem?' Aphrodite asked.

'Sweetheart, call me Grandma. And, no, I don't recognize it, as in having read it before. But I've heard of it, or at least I've heard of the myth, passed down from generation to generation in my people.'

'Why did you freak out about the Tsi Sgili and the Kalona part?' I asked.

'They are Cherokee demons. Dark spirits of the worst type.' Grandma hesitated, and I could hear her rustling around with something in the background. 'Zoey, I'm going to light the smudge pot before we speak any more of these creatures. I'm using sage and lavender. I'll be fanning the smoke with a dove's feather while we talk. Zoeybird, I suggest you do the same.'

I felt an awful jolt of surprise. Smudging had been used for hundreds of years in Cherokee rituals—especially when cleansing, purifying, or protection was needed. Grandma smudged and cleansed herself regularly—I'd grown up believing it was just a way of honoring the Great Spirit and of keeping my own spirit clean. But never in my life had Grandma ever felt the need to smudge at the mention of anyone or anything.

'Zoey, you should do it now,' Grandma said sharply.

CHAPTER 22

As always, when Grandma told me to do something, I did it. 'Okay, yeah. I'm going. I have a smudge stick in my room. I gotta run and get it.' I gave Aphrodite a look and she nodded, shooing me toward the door with a hand flutter.

'Which herbs?' Grandma asked.

'White sage and lavender. It's the one I keep in my T-shirt drawer,' I said.

'Good, good. That's good. It's personal to you, but its magic hasn't been released yet. Good.'

I rushed back to Aphrodite's room.

'I got the pot part covered,' Aphrodite said, handing me a lavender-colored bowl that was decorated with three-dimensional grapes and a vine that twined all the way around it. It was absolutely gorgeous and looked expensive and old. She shrugged her shoulders at me. 'Yeah, it's expensive.'

I rolled my eyes at her. 'Okay, I have the bowl, Grandma.'

'Do you have a feather? From a peaceful bird, like the dove, or a protective bird, like a hawk or an eagle would be best.'

'Uh, Grandma, no. I don't have any feathers.' I looked questioningly at Aphrodite.

'No feathers here, either,' she said.

'No matter, we can make do. Are you ready, Zoeybird?'

I waved the small wandlike stick of tightly woven dried herbs until the fire went out and smoke began to waft gently from it. Then I put it in the purple bowl and set it between us. 'I'm ready. It's smoking perfectly.'

'Waft it around you. Girls, both of you need to concentrate on protection and positive spirits. Think of your Goddess and how much she loves you.'

We did as Grandma told us. Both of us were fanning the smoke gently around with our hands as we inhaled slowly.

Maleficent sneezed, growled, and jumped off the bed to disappear into Aphrodite's bathroom. I can't say I was sorry to see her go.

'Now keep the pot close to you while you listen carefully to me,' Grandma said. I heard her draw three deep cleansing breaths before she began. 'First you should know that the Tsi Sgili are Cherokee witches, only do not be deceived by the title 'witch.' They do not follow the peaceful, beautiful ways of Wicca. Nor are they the wise priestesses you know and respect who serve Nyx. A Tsi Sgili lives as an outcast, separate from the tribe. They are evil, through and through. They delight in killing; they revel in death. They have magical powers granted through the fear and pain of their victims. They feed on death. They can torture and kill with the ane li sgi.'

'I don't know what that means, Grandma.'

'It means they are powerful psychics and can kill with their minds.'

Aphrodite looked up at me. Our eyes met and I could tell we were thinking the same thing: Neferet is a powerful psychic.

'Who is this queen the poem talks about?' Aphrodite asked.

'I know of no Tsi Sgili queen. They are solitary beings and have no hierarchy. But I am not an authority on them.'

'So is Kalona one of the Tsi Sgili?' I asked.

'No. Kalona is worse. Much worse. The Tsi Sgili are evil and dangerous, but they are human and can be dealt with as any human can.' Grandma paused, and I could hear her drawing in three more deep cleansing breaths. When Grandma began to speak again, her voice was lowered, as if she was worried about being overheard. She didn't exactly sound scared. She sounded cautious. Cautious and very, very serious.

'Kalona was the father of the Raven Mockers and he was not human. We call him and his twisted offspring demons, but that's not really accurate. I guess the best way I can describe Kalona is as an angel.'

A cold chill went through my body when Grandma said the words Raven Mockers; then I realized what else she had said, and I blinked in surprise. 'An angel? Like in the Bible?'

'Aren't they supposed to be good guys?' Aphrodite asked.

'They are supposed to be. Keep in mind that the Christian tradition says that Lucifer himself was the brightest and most beautiful of the angels, but he fell.'