Chapter One: Flames of Loss
Scorching agony consumed me from the inside out. The stench of rotting blood mingled with fires hotter than I had ever experienced choked my lungs. I could not think. Anguish clouded my reason, twisted my emotions into abject hopelessness. I tried to scream, tried to thrash against a torment barred from my eyes. This had to be hell. Complete darkness. The eternity I deserved, as a former sex slave with a tainted body. I had always known this would come for me one day.
Heaven held no place for a maiden raped a thousand times over.
It will be the greatest suffering we’ve ever known. But only temporary.
Someone had told me that before this all began. Who? A spark of memory reawakened in my brain, somewhere apart from the trauma. A spirit that refused to capitulate to the fires, to the cruel drowning of blood. My soul, the essence of my inmost self. I had agreed to do this. So had he.
So had he.
Philipp.
My Truhtein. My magnificent, loyal, and gracious Teuton master.
When it’s over, you will be just as strong as I am. Maybe even stronger.
I hope I’m dark energy like you.
These infernal flames charred my spirit, not my body. This was not death, nor was it hell. Sorcery beyond anything I ever imagined before I met Philipp. A terrible magic, one that could transform my standard human blood into something more. Something supernatural. Something Philipp insisted stemmed from angelic forces, from the light that pointed all creatures toward the divine.
Something no ordinary human could attain without deviating to the dark.
The Teutonic blood-transfer.
My spirit continued to convulse with pain, my screams tapering off as I tried to reassert my will. Death would be an easy escape. I sensed it lurking within the shadows, just beyond my reach, calling seductively for my surrender. If I released my tenuous grip on life, on the prospect of a future together with my Truhtein as his true equal, heaven may yet welcome me.
No. My master and I had too much to accomplish on earth. Freeing my mother from a conclave of human traffickers topped the list. We needed to work as a team to bring those criminals to justice. We could not do that if I surrendered to death, no matter how desperately I longed for it.
I needed to embrace the torment, fight the urge to flee into death’s relief. To do that, I needed a distraction. Something to cling to while my spirit burned.
Philipp . . . .
For the first time since this awfulness began, I managed to project a name into the river of flaming blood, rather than mere cries of agony. Philipp was here, too. He had agreed to give his blood for me, to offer his elemental magic in hopes of awakening mine. Both of our spirits would drown in this crimson river until the ritual was complete. Until we regained consciousness as Teutons in full. Partners.
Unless one of us chose to succumb to eternity’s allure.
It occurred to me out of nowhere that maybe my Truhtein would fall prey to death’s call. Maybe he was not strong enough to resist. In my mind’s eye, he was invincible, his dark energy snapping in blackish-purple glory whenever he invoked his magic. But he was an old man. His spirit embodied resilience, but his mortal body? I had done my best to ignore its subtle signs of decay for months now.
Philipp!
I cried out his name again, shoving aside the torment of the flames. I could dissociate from this, too, just like I had done in my childhood, whenever wicked males raped me on camera. This was no different. Temporary. I needed to focus, to find my beloved master. Grant him a portion of my undying tenacity.
Another memory flashed across my brain, a conversation I had with Philipp several days before my eighteenth birthday. Lenz will put drops in our eyes to blind us both before he starts the ritual, Philipp had told me, his blue-gray eyes grim and serious. Teuton priests believe it’s best for those who undergo the blood-transfer to do so in darkness, for sometimes frightening images appear in the bloody river. But there’s a way to regain your eyesight if you want to, during the process. You must simply envision the blinding liquid as a shield draped over your eyes, and ignite your willpower to peel it free.
Are you going to do that, when we’re in the bloody river? I had asked him, nervous about the idea of facing torture while unable to see. Sometimes my rapists had blindfolded me while they committed their crimes against me—a demon that often haunted my nightmares.
Philipp pursed his thin lips, his gaze shifting from my face to the window behind me. I might. If only for the privilege of seeing your spirit.
Then I’m going to do that, too, I had pledged fervently, resolved to be just as strong as my Truhtein. That was what I needed to do right now, as fires ate away at my spirit. Peel the shield away from my eyes and find my master.
It took more effort than I expected to tear the curtain away. I was well versed in Teutonic magic already, thanks to a hefty stack of books and Philipp’s guidance. But knowing something and doing something proved far different traits. Twice, I caught a glimpse of vivid red at the edges of my vision, and then the veil dropped back in place. I flexed my fingers and uttered a growl, trying again.
My fight to regain my eyesight took a tiny edge off of the torture, though the flaming blood continued to singe my spirit into dust. It surprised me that I was still alive. How much more of me could this place find to burn? Enough to grant me the Teutonic magic I’ve wanted for years, I told myself. An instant later, the shield fell away from my eyes. Fire immediately reached out to sear them.
Red everywhere. Anguish everywhere. I screamed again, my reason failing me. My arms appeared translucent as I thrashed them against the thick liquid that drowned me. Translucent yet glimmering with blood red fires. Madness.
No. I have to find Philipp.
I managed to transform my wails into Philipp’s name, striking out into the river at the same time. I kicked my legs and worked my arms in the breast stroke, a talent my Truhtein had taught me. Water no longer scared me, because I could swim. This river of blood was just another type of water. And apparently, my lungs could breathe even in this place, even without discernible air.
Was this what it was like to be a Teuton?
Philipp! I cried out, pushing myself further, fighting against a current that sought to plunge me to the river’s depths. Truhtein, I’m here! Where are you?
Somewhere in the distance, I heard his voice. The same one that soothed me when images of my past shackled me in iron, convincing me of my worthlessness. That no male could ever want me now that I had breasts. Now that my womb could nurture children. A broken maiden, a weak failure.
Throughout the past five years, Philipp had patiently taught me otherwise. In his eyes, I was strong, a victor, triumphant. Every day, I fought to see myself the way he did. Right now, he needed the powerful Zehra. The one who would claw her way through tides of smoldering blood to reach him.
So I continued to swim, pushing waves of blood behind me as I pressed on. A side corner of my brain began to wonder exactly how much longer this blood-transfer would last. How much longer must the two of us burn and drown? Had our priest—Philipp’s trusted friend, Lenz—placed two Teutonic arteries into my body and given my master two of mine? Would we wake to the morning sun and join our elements in mystical unity?
My eyes widened against the fiery blood as a strange new sense bombarded me from inside my spirit. I could feel my master’s dark energy, quivering as though its vitality had already chosen to succumb. To seize death’s sweet relief. Truhtein, please! I cried out in terror, desperation driving me toward him. Please don’t give in. I’m here with you. I’m here!
I could see him now, his spirit barely visible against the flaming blood. Just a faint trace of energy sparked along his limbs and torso, his teeth bared in agony, his eyes squeezed shut. He did not lash out at the currents, like I had done. His arms hung motionless, his life fading before my eyes. Philipp! I cried, reaching my right hand out to his left.
The eyes of his spirit opened and focused on me, dark energy draining from the rest of his essence to magnify their glow. Zeh . . . ra . . . my shining . . . star.
His mental voice sounded so feeble. If it were possible to cry in this place, my face would have been drenched in tears. I closed my fingers around his, silently begging him to stay, though the spark comprising his spirit dissipated in my grasp. Truhtein, don’t leave me, I pleaded, staring into his violet-black eyes.
Philipp’s thin lips stretched into the most brilliant smile I had ever seen in my life, and he expended all of his energy in his last words to me. Zehra, you are so strong! His pride washed over me, binding me in unconditional acceptance and love. His final gift to me.
Then his spirit crumbled away, his sentiments dissolving into hollowness. I shut my eyes, clenched my fists, and screamed out my desolation to the fire, to the blood, to the void, to the demon that had stolen my Truhtein from me. The blood-transfer was Wuotan’s ritual, and I would make him pay for this. Somehow. I would make him pay, and then I could seek the heaven Philipp had found—
I sat up straight in bed, the shadows of my master’s private chamber falling over me. A thick comforter tangled around my legs, my torso slaked in sweat, my heart hammering so hard it might leap free from my ribcage. Panting, I touched a hand to my forehead as reality dragged me into despair. I wrapped my bare arms around myself and quivered, vivid visions spearing me in the darkness.
I had suffered that exact dream every night since Philipp and I had done the blood-transfer on Monday, April 5th. My eighteenth birthday. The day I charged into official adulthood with Teuton blood and a new last name. The day my spirit returned to my torn body to find itself manifested as stone. One of three earthen Teutonic elements. Not the dark energy I had hoped to claim.
The day Philipp Liebig died giving his blood for me. Leaving me completely alone in an empty mansion, our plans to continue hunting traffickers shattered to pieces. Our plans to marry as Teutons forever lost. Our plans to bind our hearts in magic and dream together every night never realized.
Now I would have to watch him die every night instead. Face my nightmares without his presence to calm me, never learn how peaceful it would be to sleep in union with my master. Never discover what it would be like to mate as Teutons, binding spirit and element in sensual bliss. Philipp had held me at a distance for so long, requiring that our relationship remain platonic until I reached adulthood. He was not like the criminals who had stolen my innocence years ago. He wanted a grown woman, a Teuton woman, a Zehra whose blood status matched his.
He had promised that we would marry on Monday night, the same priest who had performed the blood-transfer officiating our ritual wedding by the pool outside, beneath branches of oak and elm. But my spirit had returned to my body that morning to find my master’s unbreathing, his steady heart forever stilled.
A Teuton witch abandoned, her pining heart ground to dust.
After I had finished weeping over his body Monday morning, I shut myself into his private suite, locking the door to the hallway in a mad attempt to seal reality away. Every morning since, I awoke alone in his bed, ripped from the bloody river into utter desolation. Philipp’s familiar scent had already begun to vanish from the sheets. I would have to wash them at some point soon, catch up on the chores. I glanced at the blue numbers glowing from the digital clock on the bedside table. Five forty-six, April 9th, 2004.
Friday morning. Day four without my dedicated partner.
“Get up, Zehra,” I told myself, struggling against the urge to burrow under the blankets and moan for Philipp’s return. “Get out of bed.”
Despite the insidious weight of depression, I knew full well that eventually, I would have to face the world alone. Step outside and find out whether the Teuton community could accept me as one of their own—a Turkish maiden who yearned to uncover the wonders of elemental magic, no matter the cost. As I made my way to the bathroom and switched on the light, my stomach grumbled, ordering that I assuage my basic bodily needs. I had eaten hardly anything since Monday morning, just a few snacks I found in Philipp’s personal suite. Pretzels, Landjäger sausage, and hard liquor. The alcohol dulled my heartache, if only for a moment.
I would have to shop for groceries all by myself. I had not seen the inside of a grocery store since my mother brought me along with her as a little girl.
My eyebrows arched downward in pain as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my deep brown eyes lightening into stone’s flat gray. My vision sharpened, showing me every frizz in my tangled hair, every blackhead nestled in the beige skin of my nose. My flesh hardened as I granted my magic free rein, my lips curving into a frown. If only my heart could turn to stone, too. It had troubled me since late Monday night, rebuking my sorrow for my dead master.
Two dark red scabs trailed upward from the left side of my chest. My tank top revealed their course as they split to cross my shoulders and travel down to my inner elbows. My blood was different now, two of my Truhtein’s arteries nestled within my flesh, granting me Teuton blood and all of its privileges. The blood-transfer was a sordid ritual, impossible by scientific standards.
Philipp had told me that afterward, my blood type would change from O to AB. The universal recipient, the blood that absorbed all other types. Thankfully, the mystic qualities of Teuton blood remained invisible to modern science, or else my people would be shut away in labs or hunted to extinction.
My people. So insane, to imagine an ancient Germanic tribe as my people. What would they think of a brown-eyed witch of stone, a child of immigrants? A maiden whose father had sold her to pay a bad debt?
“I’m not strong, Philipp,” I muttered at my reflection, wondering if he could hear me from the unreachable realm of his heaven. “I’m not strong without you. I’m trying so hard . . . but I can’t find my way alone.”
Carefully, I leaned my forehead against the mirror’s cool surface and closed my eyes, wallowing in my grief. But then my stone detected the presence of another Teuton spirit approaching the house, and I stiffened in dread.
*************************************
Chapter Two: Choices
Pitch black darkness rivaling that of a moonless night. That unusual sense the blood-transfer had granted me identified which Teutonic element intruded upon my solitude, the solidity of my stone readying me for defense in an instant. Leaving the bathroom behind, I scurried toward the hallway on silent feet, preparing to meet the man who approached the front portico.
Although my mastery of my magic was not refined enough to recognize his spirit by his element alone, I knew my guest had to be Lenz. Even after Philipp left this world, the invisible shield of dark energy he had cast over his property long ago held strong, the generator hidden in an old root cellar producing sufficient voltage to power the entire house. The shield repelled anyone who carried sinister intentions. A nearly flawless security system.
As I wound my way through the downstairs passageways to the vestibule, it occurred to me to wonder exactly how long Philipp’s spells would last now that he was dead. The electricity and internet had not yet gone out, but I suspected I would have to learn all about connecting this place to the city’s power grid at some point. And what about the house itself, and all of Philipp’s investments? I had not checked his accounts once this entire week.
I was a failure. Not the shining star my Truhtein envisioned.
When I reached the front door, I paused to draw a deep breath, pulling myself up straight. A Teuton priest of darkness awaited me, the man my Truhtein trusted without reservations. Lenz Schneider, a retired private investigator, had played a pivotal role when we broke up the child pornography ring three years ago. He had tracked down other survivors who had already come of age, asking them to testify against the criminals who plastered our tortured bodies all over the dark web. Each one languished in prison now, my anonymity intact.
Philipp and Lenz had protected me from having to face them again in court, from dealing with government officials who would demand I be sent to school, to the care of unknown guardians. Yet here I stood in blue gym shorts and a soiled tank top, my hair uncombed, my feet bare, my heart stuttering painfully, seeking a reason to continue on after its trusted partner departed this world. Lenz deserved better than this. I ought to make coffee.
“I can sense you in there, Zehra.” Lenz’s reedy voice prompted me to jump, my fingers stretching forth to unlatch the deadbolt. “I’ve brought a loaf from the bakery.”
I cracked the door, casting my gaze over Lenz, where he stood several paces back from the threshold. Attired in dark jeans, a black trench coat, and a flat hat, he looked fully prepared to start a new investigation. His irises as black as coals, his hands held a papery bag that smelled like heaven. Raising bushy gray eyebrows, he presented the bag to me, a silent message.
“Thought the bakery didn’t open until six,” I said, the earthy scent of warm Vollkornbrot reminding me that I needed to eat. I opened the door wider.
“If you know the owner, you can call in the occasional favor.”
“Come inside.” I nodded in the general direction of the kitchen, stepping aside so Lenz could enter. “I’ll make some coffee.”
I darted further into the house without waiting to see if he would follow, this time flicking a couple light switches along the way. My element had receded from my blood into my spirit as I relaxed in Lenz’s presence, my vision returning to its normal state. Odd that stone would grant me the ability to see in the dark, but maybe all earthen elements were like that. Maybe they prepared a Teuton mage to explore caves and mines.
Lenz rattled off a few comments about the weather and the local soccer team while I busied myself with the coffee pot. The bright kitchen lights made me feel exposed, after three and a half days of huddling in my master’s private suite. My hands shook as I retrieved a pair of mugs from one of eighteen overhead cabinets. Philipp’s downstairs kitchen was enormous, containing three convection ovens, two refrigerators, a deep freezer, three dishwashers, an extensive wine rack under the dry bar, and enough dishes and place settings to serve a hundred people. All vestiges of his late father’s extroverted nature. Philipp never staged one party, in the five years I had known him.
Of course, that may have been because he wished to keep my presence in his house a secret. He had bought me from my previous master—the producer of child porn—right after I turned thirteen. Philipp’s plan was to educate me, help me make my own way in the world once I grew up. And he had done just that. But to those on the outside, he appeared to be an elderly mogul who kept an underage Turkish girl as a servant.
So I had stayed hidden for all this time, a status that suited me. Lenz was the only one of Philipp’s friends who knew I existed, and what I meant to Philipp. He retrieved butter from the fridge and honey from a cabinet while he chattered on about a soccer player who recently sprained his knee. Lenz’s insistence upon serving himself irritated me, but I had no authority to demand he settle down. I eyed him from where I stood before the counter next to the sink, pouring two mugs of piping hot coffee.
Lenz had divested himself of his trench coat and hat, both of which lay upon the bar, his plaid flannel shirt typical attire for him. Tousled gray hair that matched his eyebrows ringed his bald crown, his fingers extracting the loaf of Vollkornbrot from its bag to set it atop a serving plate. I had not seen him retrieve the plate from a cabinet, my usually keen senses dimmed by my grief. I really needed to get it together. Turning back to the counter, I breathed out a quiet sigh, then lifted both mugs to carry them to the bar. Lenz had already laid out the cream and sugar.
After handing Lenz his mug, I plunked myself onto the bar stool beside the one he occupied, turning my attention to the slices of bread he had cut from the seeded loaf. I shut my eyes for a second to inhale its warm fragrance, then laid two pieces upon the plate before me. Coffee could wait; my stomach wanted food. Impatient, it growled as I took up the small container of herbed butter.
“You’re not doing well, are you?”
Lenz’s query cut me to the core. He had ceased his casual chatter when I handed him his mug, and now his hazel eyes pierced me from where he sat blowing on his coffee. Concern evident upon his features, he took a single sip, holding my gaze as I spread too much butter over the slices on my plate.
I felt as though a vise squeezed my heart. Keep it together. No crying, I told myself. Taking a single bite of buttered bread, I forced myself to chew slowly, not wanting to overdo it after four days of intermittent fasting. Then I admitted the truth, dropping my gaze from Lenz’s to the brown slice in my hand. “I’m not.”
Lenz exhaled heavily, setting his mug onto the bar. “He was my friend, too, Zehra. More than a friend. I’m not sure it’s fully hit me yet, even though I’ve spent the past three days getting his affairs in order.”
“What?” The word fell from my lips before I could squelch it. While I had floundered in misery, Lenz had conducted business like a mature adult. A quality I had yet to attain, apparently. I hunched my shoulders, embarrassed.
“He made me the executor of his will years ago,” Lenz went on, fingering a half-eaten slice of bread on his plate. “You’re lucky he was an only child with no children or ex-wives of his own, or gold diggers would have invaded this property already. He left you all of his assets, aside from what he donated to charity and the investments we maintained together. Everything, including this property, granted to Frau Zehra Saliha Liebig. His will records your chosen surname.”
The implications of what Lenz declared prompted me to gasp. “He planned this,” I realized, tugging my full mug of coffee toward me, its warmth not touching the chill in my soul. “My Truhtein planned to die giving me Teuton blood.”
“I’m not sure if ‘planned’ is the right word,” Lenz said, his tone sympathetic. I poured a bit of creamer into my coffee, glancing at him while I waited for him to explain. The older man took a bite of honeyed bread, his thick eyebrows coming together.
“Philipp’s COPD started progressing late last autumn. He told me in March that his doctor gave him six months to a year, at most.”
“I didn’t know that.” I thought about how strained my master’s breathing had grown during the winter. He coughed and wheezed for a good twenty minutes each morning before making his way to the shower. Neither of us had spoken of his worsening health, denial my trustworthy raft.
“He preferred to bear that burden alone. I doubt he would have told me if he didn’t need me to set his affairs in order afterward. But the last time we spoke, before I conducted the ritual for you, he told me, ‘Wuotan will require one of our lives, since Zehra and I are opposite genders. I don’t want you offering that demon some ransom in an attempt to save us both.’ He made me promise not to deviate from the light, but I’ll admit I was tempted. I didn’t want to lose my dearest friend, or the lovely young lady who challenged him to become the best version of himself.”
Lenz cleared his throat and focused on his slice of bread, while I sat reeling from the sacrifice my Truhtein had made for me. I had read in multiple tomes that blood-transfers tended to be deadlier if the recipients were not of the same gender. But I had convinced myself that it would be different for us. That my master and I were strong enough to live, despite Wuotan’s foul schemes.
“Then . . . my Truhtein chose to die . . . to spare me.” Tears welled in my eyes but I blinked them away, trying to concentrate on the magic within my spirit, to center myself. Philipp had died to give me this gift of stone. It was time for me to stop mourning him and put his gift to good use.
“Philipp believed in you,” Lenz noted as I drank from my mug, the gears in my brain starting to turn with possibility, perked by the caffeine. “He believed that you would bring light to this world, use the privileges of Teuton blood to help those shackled by evil and greed. I haven’t archived the record of your blood status yet, but once I do, the local witches will certainly want to connect with you.”
The idea of meeting other Teuton females sent my magic running for cover. The solidness of earth had started to weave through my blood and augment my senses, but now it contracted back into my spirit. “I haven’t really . . . practiced all that much yet,” I confessed, embarrassed again. “Am I going to turn into a gargoyle whenever I separate my spirit from my body?”
That particular Teutonic talent was one I longed to hone. Philipp had used it often to gain intel on traffickers and their clients. His dark energy always buzzed around him in solid waves of electricity whenever his spirit went on the hunt. But my element was stone, gray the only color it had manifested thus far.
“A gargoyle. Really.” Lenz raised his eyebrows at me and burst out laughing.
His amusement awakened my own, a grin breaking across my face for the first time since Monday. “I’m stone. That means gargoyle. How exactly is my body supposed to breathe like that?” I needed to set my mind at ease about this before I set out on my first spiritual journey—to infiltrate the place where my father ran his trafficking business. Where my mother remained bound in servitude.
“Your body doesn’t need to breathe when your element preserves it. Life flows in a Teuton’s blood and element, along with their spirit. And the lungs of your spirit can breathe anywhere, even up in space. Spirits don’t need oxygen to sustain them. Since you’re stone, you’ll be able to travel through castle walls and Alpine crevices without trouble. Useful talent.”
Lenz mirrored my grin and took up another slice of bread, topping it with a spoonful of honey. I blinked at him in a daze as I thought about what he had said. “So when I’m in spirit form, I’ll be able to walk through walls?”
“Not just through them. In them. You’ll probably be able to sink down into the earth itself, should you wish to do so. It’ll come naturally to you, because your element stems from the earth. And one thing to remember—” Lenz took a bite of bread and chewed it thoroughly, studying my expression before finishing “—is that most Teutons, aside from wary priests, don’t think to look for spirits within walls.”
Resolution reared up inside of me, my brain compiling countless ways my stone could assist me in freeing my mother and bringing my father to justice. While I could not disrupt camera feeds or electrical barriers like Philipp could, my stone would allow me to undo physical locks, shift the bars in windows, and conjure weapons from the magic of my blood and spirit. All things I had not yet attempted. Once Lenz left, I would go to my bedroom for the first time since Monday morning, sit down at my desk and make a list of the spells I needed to practice. I would have to dig out some of Philipp’s ancient tomes to guide me along the way.
“I can see the wheels turning in your brain.” Lenz’s voice extracted me from my reverie. I shook myself and reached for my coffee, realizing I had been staring off into space for more than a minute. When I met my companion’s gaze, he asked, “What have you got for me?”
That phrase initiated the mindset shift I needed dearly. I could still mourn Philipp while pressing forward with our investigation into my father’s business. He worked with a band of human traffickers who called their operation “Befreiung,” which meant “liberation” in German. They offered their services to refugees from the east—usually vulnerable women and children—shackling their clients into forced labor and prostitution. Philipp and I had not yet shared our findings with Lenz, for we had yet to uncover sufficient evidence to press charges.
But Lenz knew we had something cooking. And I would need his help if I wanted to do more than simply steal my mother away.
“You know how the child porn ring we broke up had no connection with my father at all?” I shifted to face Lenz directly, setting my coffee mug down and taking up a fresh slice of bread. He nodded once, and I buttered my bread without really looking at it. “Well, my Truhtein found something a couple months ago. Something that might explain what my father actually does for a living. Even though he wasn’t in deep with the porn, some of his associates have their hands coated in filth.”
I told Lenz the basics of what Philipp and I had found thus far. Most of it hinged upon transactions on the dark web. My master had been a whiz with code and computers, his element granting him insight most mortals never attained. One of many reasons I had wished to claim some type of energy, myself. Luckily, Philipp had schooled me extensively throughout the past five years, though I found it much easier to study financial trends than to stay ahead of online criminals.
I was still unsure whether I wanted to do this for the rest of my life, or call it quits once my father’s business collapsed. There had to be other, more satisfying ways to help those in need.
“So your first plan is to break your mother out of Befreiung’s compound,” Lenz said after I finished my report. I bowed my head in acknowledgement and took a sip from my mug. Lenz’s next statement almost made me spit out my coffee. “How do you know your mother isn’t involved? That she even wants to be free?”
“My mother cares about protecting her children,” I responded, leveling a glare at him from over the rim of my mug. “My father had to hold her back when he sold me to that rapist. She was crying, fighting. I saw him hit her.”
Lenz’s lips parted, his distrust shifting into something else. “Are you sure she’s still alive?” he asked in an undertone.
I drained my coffee and smacked the mug onto the bar. Raising my chin, I looked Lenz square in the eyes and answered, “She is. My Truhtein scouted out my father’s compound in spirit form just last week. Now it’s my turn to do it.”
*************************************
Chapter Three: Peculiar Craving
On Saturday morning, I showered and put on a pair of flared jeans and a purple long-sleeved blouse, then wound my hair into a basic braid. Today, I intended to start practicing with my elemental magic, out in the back garden beside the pool where my late master and I had planned to marry. Nervous anticipation seemed to braid my spirit into a knot in my chest, but I refused to allow my doubts to hold me back. I no longer had a strong partner to support me, which meant I must defeat all antagonists myself. Even those that lived in my own mind.
Frau Zehra Liebig had inherited an expansive house and grounds, so I must complete daily tasks whether I liked it or not. Before I delved into my newfound Teutonic gifts, I embarked on a solo trip to the nearby grocery store. I knew where it was from studying one of Philipp’s local maps, but terror slid its claws down my spine as I strode along the driveway to the front gate. An aged stone wall adorned with creeping ivy surrounded the Liebig property, the wrought-iron gate one I had not stepped through in five years.
A cool spring breeze caressed my cheeks as I neared the gate, the sky a lovely light blue flecked with wisps of cirrus. A robin called out from one of the two oaks that framed the gate, nature’s beauty inviting me forward, along with a deep-seated instinct that told me I must emerge from my isolation today. A weird instinct, but not one I thought to question. I halted before the gate’s lock, narrowing my eyes at the iron mechanism holding it shut. Could I loosen the lock through the power of my stone, without using the key tucked in the pocket of my jacket?
I sensed the intrinsic camaraderie of the stone wall and even the iron before me, although my spirit detected a definite difference there. Interesting. Metal and stone were not the same element. I knew that, but it was odd to feel it whispering to my inner self. Glancing from the lock to the trees that lined the far side of the street beyond the gate, I realized I was stalling. Trying to put off my entrance into the unknown as long as possible.
“This isn’t going to get any easier the longer you wait,” I told myself, scuffing my boots on the asphalt beneath me. Plunging my left hand into my coat pocket, I unearthed the gate key. When I pulled the gate open, I sensed my Truhtein’s energy shield sliding gently over my skin. His element knew I was no threat. In fact, I felt like his spirit was sending me a blessing, granting me the tenacity to meet all trials the world tossed my way.
“I love you, Philipp,” I whispered, shutting my eyes as I stepped through the shield and onto the sidewalk that ran along the street. The Liebig property stood on the southern edge of Erlangen, forest springing up all around it except to the northwest. The direction I needed to walk—past a collection of houses and shops and over two sets of railroad tracks until I reached the grocery store. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slowly, listening as a variety of vehicles passed by along the road. I could do this.
Reopening my eyes, I closed the gate behind me, sending Philipp’s energy one final brush of regard. Then I struck out toward civilization, my senses on high alert for potential dangers. This was a safe and quiet neighborhood, even though it lay along a main road. Still, I would not let my guard down. Other Teutons might notice the stone in my essence and grow curious, especially since I did not look like a stereotypical German.
I should have hidden my brown eyes behind sunglasses.
As I progressed further into the southern section of Erlangen, I thought back to the letter Lenz had given me before he left yesterday. My Truhtein had compiled a list of hired people and companies that maintained the Liebig property, along with the schedules each employee kept. Groundskeepers, pool maintenance and cleaning, a chauffeur, even a buyer of groceries. All personnel I had never met before, since I used to cower in my bedroom whenever Philipp had company.
The groceries I determined to obtain myself. I already kept the house clean and organized; it would not be an added burden to choose ingredients for meals. Just a little over a kilometer’s walk twice each week would let me keep the pantry and refrigerators stocked. I could even take the bus, if I got brave enough. Driving was not in the cards for me quite yet. On several occasions, my master had set me behind the wheel of his Jaguar so I could traverse the driveway, from the garage to the front gate to the section that circled the marble fountain.
But I had yet to get beyond second gear.
Shops and businesses began to crop up among the houses and apartments lining the street, as I neared the bridge over the first set of railroad tracks. Along the way, I passed other pedestrians about their daily activities. A mother pushing a baby in a stroller, a young man jogging, an elder walking his German shepherd. Each acknowledged me in their own ways, and my tension began to dissipate. My stone had identified no other Teutonic elements yet. Philipp had told me around three thousand Teutons lived in Erlangen, but maybe this southern neighborhood leaned more mundane.
Just as I started to believe I could actually accomplish my mission without any misfortunes, I caught sight of a Döner Kebap stand situated between a florist’s shop and a laundromat. My fists clenched of their own accord, my stone filtering from my spirit into my blood in reaction to my dismay. The porn producer used to eat Kebaps while shooting scenes, the stench of his breath wafting over me when he ordered the male performers to take me harder, to make me hurt.
Keep walking. Keep walking, and don’t think about it, I told myself as my heart thrummed erratically in my chest. The grocery store is just another block or two. Just have to cross one more set of railroad tracks. Nobody in that shop is going to hurt you. If they try, they’ll learn not to mess with a stone witch.
Working hard to steady my breathing, I reached the second set of railroad tracks, checking both ways before I crossed. My ludicrous reaction to the Kebap stand shamed me, rousing demons that amplified my uncertainties. You went from sweet treat to trash. Swallow, you little bitch. Show us those big salty tears.
“You’re not what they said. You’re not what they said,” I repeated under my breath over and over, fixing my gaze on the grocery store’s entrance. “You are worthy just as you are. Strong and dedicated. A shining star.”
I envisioned my beloved Truhtein walking beside me as I stepped through the sliding doors, grabbing a shopping basket and heading for the produce section. I really needed to get this task over with so I could focus on delving into the depths of my stone magic. Maybe once I could conjure weapons through sorcery alone, these wretched memories would loosen their grip on me. Five years under Philipp’s care should have been enough to free me completely. Most days, my demons only came for me in my dreams.
A Döner Kebap stand had pushed me over the edge. Ridiculous.
I dug my grocery list from my jacket pocket, glancing over it quickly to make sure I had not forgotten anything. Fresh fruit and vegetables were my top priority. After that came heavy cream and cheese. Milk could wait until my next trip, since I had to carry everything home myself. I could gather enough to fill two reusable shopping bags.
Stuffing my grocery list back into my coat, I eyed the selection of citrus fruit—navels, blood oranges, grapefruits, lemons, limes. I began depositing items into my basket at random, chagrined by the thudding of my heart. It should have calmed down by now, but it continued to patter swiftly, a strange yearning opening like a rose inside my chest. Another shopper eased up to my left side and I sidled toward the grapefruits, tossing two into the basket I balanced upon my left hip.
A third grapefruit glanced off the corner of the basket and dropped toward the floor. I gasped, but before I could fully react, the lean male beside me reached out to snag it with his right hand, a half-second before it would have smashed upon the ground. “Got it!” he exclaimed in a deep voice.
I turned my full attention upon him as he straightened, and our eyes met. His were an enchanting cobalt blue that reminded me of the winter sky. I judged him to be close to my age, probably a college student, clad in plain blue jeans and a worn leather jacket that would have fit in at a rock concert. His brown hair parted down the middle and pulled back into a ponytail, its true length a remained mystery, since we faced each other directly. He raised his eyebrows in interest, holding out the grapefruit for me to take.
Just how long had I eyeballed this guy in silence? I mentally shook myself and accepted the fruit from him. “Good job,” I said, awkwardness descending upon me. I ducked my head and prepared to move on to the apples and pears. Something unusual tingled inside my spirit, slowing my retreat.
“You seem familiar. Have we met before?” the young man asked, his voice surprising me all over again. How could a guy who looked no older than twenty sound like a scholarly mage who sang bass solos with the local choir? I narrowed my eyes at him, an expression he mirrored. I thought I saw a spark flicker along the edges of his irises—a trace of element magic.
“We haven’t met before. You’re thinking of someone else. Have a good rest of your day.” Words tumbled from my lips as I moved swiftly away, this time in the direction of the vegetables. Apples could wait; the young man was a Teuton. And I was wholly unprepared for that sort of encounter.
“Okay, then.” I heard him breathe out a sigh as I planted myself beside an older woman rooting through heads of lettuce. Hopefully he would not pursue me, especially since my current companion was an outsider. His regard had awakened my own magic, its mysticism sharpening my vision as I looked over the lettuce. I picked out the freshest head in seconds and added it to my basket.
The older lady checked her shopping list and moved on to the celery, while I glanced toward where my element told me the young Teuton male lurked. He was looking over the pears, reaching out to add two to his own basket. He looked over at me when I paused before the peppers, a strangely wistful smile appearing on his smooth face. Was he trying to flirt with me?
Why did I feel stirrings in my chest, as though my heart wished me to cast myself into his arms? Philipp had told me about Teutonic mating traditions—the ritual wedding, the spiritual heart-bonds priests formed with their chosen ones, the elemental binding that occurred whenever Teutons had sex. Not once had my Truhtein ever alluded to any sort of instinctual lust, but my hormones conjured blissful images in my brain. Images of myself in that young man’s arms, my hands tangling in his sienna locks.
I needed to get away from that man. I sincerely hoped my magic would not react this way to every single Teuton male I had yet to meet. Silently ordering my stone to return to its rightful place within my spirit, I sailed away from the produce section in search of the dairy products.
We don’t have time for romance, no matter now desperately you want to get laid, I rebuked my stone as it receded into my spirit. Frustration lingered along my nerves, and I rolled my eyes at myself. Fated mates did not exist in the realm of Teutonic magic, but the arousal in my blood implied otherwise.
I walked back toward the Liebig property on the opposite side of the street, keeping my distance from the Kebap stand. My stone grew more and more restless the further I went, as if it really and truly wanted me to run back and find that tantalizing young male whose eyes glimmered with flames. Was his element some type of fire? Thank goodness it had not been dark energy; then I might have thrown myself at him in a desperate bid to raise Philipp from the dead.
By the time I passed through my Truhtein’s shield into familiar territory, I was an emotional mess. My master and I should have survived the blood-transfer’s torture and joined our spirits in ritual marriage that same night. Then, he would have finally permitted me to please him, to shower him with all of the adoration I had harbored deep within my heart for so many years. Dark energy and stone, twin souls, true partners.
But now, my stone magic pined for a man I did not know from Adam. And in my dreams that night, a powerful Teuton priest cradled my heart in his hands, his sonorous voice inviting me to my rightful place at his side.
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Oof! Zehra's got a crazy destiny looming on her horizon, along with the traumas of her past. Will she find the courage to open her heart again? Can she and Lenz free her mother from human traffickers? Find out more every week by joining my Teutonic Friends membership! ✨
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