Chapter 26

"So many things are changing," a woman says in a hushed voice. I try to open my eyes, to sit up and see who's speaking, but my entire body is pudding, weak and tired.

"Things are waking that we thought long gone from this plane of existence," says a wispy voice. "Things truly are coming to a point. Perhaps two points."

Another woman groans at this statement, and I fist my hands. My mouth's dry, my throat even drier. Cottony and gross.

"You already made that joke, Granny," someone says.

A sniff greets this pronouncement. "You must not have appreciated it enough the first time, then."

"You think the time for battle draws near?"

"Obviously."

"Will it go our way? I like it here."

"We've lived in a literal bubble for the last century. And you like it?"

"It's pretty here." It's said defensively. I want to see who is talking. Where the hell am I? Lesath must have made it to the healer. Lesath. A pang of longing spears me.

"We've been over this. We do not know which way it will go. It all depends on the spark, and she's only just arrived. It does not matter, though. We will do what we can, no matter the outcome."

"She's waking." Footsteps sound, and my heart speeds up. A dry hand rests on my shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "She feels settled. Better."

"I told you that potion and the markings would work."

"I still feel bad that?—"

"What markings?" My voice is dry and raspy with disuse, scratchy and sore.

"She's awake!"

I crack an eye open, groaning at the bright light that floods my vision.

"No, no, none of that. Up you get. You need food, and your surly Scorpio's been out of his mind with worry. Up, up!" Hands press me up to sitting, and I loll against them, weak and tired.

"She needs food and some of that brew, Lila. Get the ladle."

"This would be easier if you'd let me bring the syringe like I wanted."

I open my eyes again, watching a black-haired woman advance on me with a ladle full of steaming liquid.

"What is that?"

"It's better than Red Bull."

"Lila!"

The woman rolls her eyes at me, pressing the spoon to my mouth. "Go on."

I drink it, and the hot, salty broth fills my mouth. It's delicious, but nothing like Red Bull, thank god, because yuck. Red Bull right now sounds foul.

I swallow, and swallow, draining the ladle, and the girl brings me another spoonful as I slowly gain my bearings. I'm in a cottage, a white-washed room that reminds me of Dabin and Danielle's cozy house. Then it hits me: energy.

"Holy Mike and Ikes." I press my palms into the bed. "Wow. Starbucks can't compete with this buzz."

"See? Told ya," the black-haired woman, Lila, I presume, replaces the ladle, bringing me a bowl. "This is just oatmeal with some nuts for protein. The other replenished your magic, but your body needs this. And honestly, you need to bang it out with your Scorpio ASAP."

I blink at her.

"Lila," a gray-haired woman sighs, irritation writ across her face. "You don't have to do anything."

"Oh hush, Marjie," says the ancient wisp of a woman. "Lila's right. You should jump his bones. You'll both feel better, and I'll feel better knowing you two are on the right path."

"Mother," shouts the middle-aged woman, thunderstruck. "You are not supposed to poke them toward any paths!"

The old woman spreads her hands innocently. "I think he knows his way around, if you know what I'm saying." She winks at me, and I stare at her, then swing my gaze to the other women.

What do you even say to that?

I shove a spoonful of the oatmeal in my mouth, just to keep from saying anything. It's super good though, so I finish off the bowl as they all watch me expectantly.

It's not until I drop the spoon back in that I notice.

My eyes widen as I take in the markings crawling all over my arms.

"Do you like them?" Lila asks, her face twisted with an emotion I don't quite recognize. "I designed them. It was the only way to save you, but I didn't want you to have the ole warrior special. I thought these were nicer, you know, more delicate."

I swallow, turning my wrist over.

Intricate vines climb up one arm, fragile black vines climbing up to my shoulder. Flowers bud and open in the vines, small forest animals peeking out and interwoven in the design. A flock of birds in flight adorns my collarbone. A serpent wreathes my wrist, tail disappearing in its mouth. It's exactly as she said, delicate and pretty and powerful, all at once. The design isn't the most unusual thing about them, either. They aren't black, or green, or any other normal color. They glow a faint purple, shimmering against my skin.

I never really thought about getting tattoos, other than one drunk night in college. Some small part of me wishes I'd had a say, but these are gorgeous. Incredible. And they saved my life.

The enormity of that sinks in.

"It's beautiful." My mouth drops open, at a loss. "They saved my life? You saved my life?"

The young one blushes slightly, pleased at my reaction. The motherly one waves a hand. "Bah. We did what we had to."

"You should still saddle up that Scorpio and take him on a ride," says the white-haired woman. Her eyes sparkle in her wrinkled face. "Bet you'd regret it if you died before you took him on a test drive."

"Right," I say, like that's totally normal advice.

"You can do whatever you want. Your magic is balanced, more or less." The motherly one glares at the eldest.

"More or less?" I squeak out. I don't want to feel like that again—that tense mania, the onslaught of fever.

"You'll be able to access more power if you give him access, if you know what I'm saying." The white-haired woman shimmies a little, and my eyebrows shoot up.

"Granny!" Lila says, a small laugh trickling out of her.

"It took us a few days, but you'll be right as rain."

"Where's Lesath?" I miss him. The feeling strums through my body, like a plucked guitar string, singing across my skin.

"That's my girl," crows the old lady. "He's with the horses. They could have told you that."

I tear my gaze away from the elaborate, dainty tattoos. "They could have?"

"Of course. You can hear them, they can hear you. Though, why you'd want to, I have no idea."

What?" I slowly turn my head between the three of them. "Really?"

"Go on, try it."

"How?"

"Think about whichever you're wanting to talk to. They're close, it should be easy for you."

I close my eyes, thinking hard about my favorite murder pony.

"She appears constipated. Do you think she's constipated?" The old lady whispers. "We can make you a potion for that, dear."

I wrinkle my nose, feeling ridiculous.

"Ignore her," Marjie snaps, and a warm hand braces against my upper arm. "Stretch your senses towards him. Think of the way he smells and feels."

I do as she instructs, remembering the earthy horsey smell, the surprisingly soft fur, the coarse mane, and the way he wanted to bite anything and everything. I nearly gasp with shock when my imagination seems to latch on to something.

Molmith?

APPLE!

My eyes fly open. "Whoa."

"You can talk to animals and you only want to tell them whoa? Well, different strokes." The old lady examines her nails, shuffling away from the bed. "You might want to get a move on to Westshear. I think things will be heating up there soon with your sisters. You three are stronger together."

"Mother!" Marjie shakes her head at the other woman's retreating form.

"Mina. How does she know about Mina?"

Lila huffs out an exasperated breath.

"We're blessed—" Lila starts.

"More like cursed," the old woman interrupts. "We can see snippets of the future. Enough to get us in trouble. You three need to meet back up."

"We're not supposed to talk about it," says Marjie, patting back her steel grey hair, her eyes flashing a warning.

"We were planning to find my sisters as soon as possible, anyway." I pick at the bedsheets. I feel safe here. Cozy, even though these three women are strange. Amusing, yes, but strange for sure.

"See!" The grandmother shimmies again. "No harm done."

"You can't push them towards an outcome." Marjie grits out.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"What kind of an outcome?" I push myself up to sitting slowly, waiting for a wave of dizziness that never comes. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, ah," the old lady shakes her finger at me. "Can't tell you that, can we, Miss Nosey?"

"It's Ali, actually." I swing my legs over the bed. I'm not wearing pants. In fact, one of them must have changed me, because I'm wearing a dainty little sleep dress in soft white. "Er—" I pluck at the fabric.

"You were gross. I cleaned you up," Lila supplies, noticing my distress. "Trust me, you did not want to sleep in those pants."

"Bad for the air flow, if you know what I mean," the grandmother adds.

Marjie rolls her eyes. "Come on then, let's get some food in you."

"Molmith wants an apple," I say randomly, completely out of my comfort zone with these three.

"Course he does."

They're all staring at me expectantly, so I stand up, pulling on the hem of the tiny dress. "Ah, are my clothes in here?"

"Oh, sure, sure. In the closet. We'll make you a sandwich, and then you'll be on your way, yes? Sooner you're out and about, the better for all of us."

"I guess so." I really have no idea. I cross my arms over my chest, glancing down at the designs shimmering across my skin. "Thank you, by the way. Thank you very much." It's not enough, but I don't know how else to say it, or what I could possibly give them

"Of course, child. We aren't about to sit this one out, are we, ladies?" The old woman winks at me as she rubs her hands together. "Things are about to get interesting."

Marjie makes a sound of disgust and gently guides the white-haired woman to the door. "You're welcome, Ali. Take your time getting dressed, and we'll make sure you have what you need for Westshear."

The three women make for the door, Lila beaming at me.

"Wait, is there anything I can do? To thank you?" The words pour out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and a prickling sensation crawls across my skin. Magic.

"What are you?" I whisper, eyes wide. Power throbs from the three of them, and when they turn their gaze back to me, a silver sheen has rolled across their eyes.

"A good faith offer to help the three-faced goddess is never refused," intones Marjie.

Cold spills across my spine, my eyes widening. Her voice is different than before, lower, missing the warmth.

"You must deliver a letter to the one with flaming hair. Only she may read it. No one else may know of it."

They blink all at once, and I swallow hard, swaying on the threadbare rug. Shit. Maybe telling them I'd help was a bad idea. I don't know the rules here!

"Do you understand?" Lila asks, her eyes and voice back to normal.

"Flaming hair?"

Her mouth twists up. "Probably red?"

Red haired… I wrack my brains, not wanting to piss off their three-faced goddess. "Cassie? She just got here. She's the only redhead I've seen."

"That's the one, then." Marjie guides the other two women out, nonchalant, like they often have silver eyes and speak as one.

Maybe they do.

The door closes softly behind them, and I get dressed. Well, no matter what kind of freak show is going on here, one thing's for certain: they saved my life.

And if returning the favor is as easy as getting a letter to Cassie?

Totally worth it.