Falling in love had been a deadly distraction.
The Arcana had ten days to save Marcus or the consecration ritual would strip him of his powers and end his life.
PROLOGUE
Shattered. It’s the only word that described it.
When I looked at Ellen, she was shattered.
I wanted to ask Marlowe or Roman if that's what they saw. Surely the High Priestess or the Magi had noticed it, too. The splintering light had been growing around Ellen for several months. Truthfully, for several years, only now I couldn’t ignore it. The light looked like a fractured haze that always hung around Ellen. Marlowe could see auras, maybe this was similar.
In the beginning, I wondered if it was just poor eyesight. We were all getting older. But it wasn't my eyesight. Well, it was my eyesight, but it wasn't a problem. It was a conundrum.
Ellen was shattering more each day. The Arcana’s Sun. Nic’s wife. My friend. When I looked at her, she was shattered. Not fractured like a kaleidoscope, which was one picture cut into a thousand pieces.
Shatter looked like a diamond, and every facet had a different image of her life. A unique color. A distinct feeling. It was a reflection of her soul, of her life. The shattered vision of Ellen that I could see, was the full scope of her hopes and fears. In the last of her days, I watched the shatter separate from her body.
I no longer had doubts. I was watching Ellen Barnaby die. Piece. By. Piece.
As the Key of Death, I’ve always been able to read someone’s fears. It was a power I inherited from the five previous Death Keys who held the Arcana position before me. But with Ellen, I spent my time trying to alleviate what fears I could sense.
Ellen was the Arcana's Sun, and even to the end, she shined. I listened as she spoke about her impending death with an understanding no one else could offer. Death would be a comfort to her, and I promised – oh, I promised so many things.
I was Death. I saw the end. And hers was coming.
Death was afraid?
Yes. Absolutely.
Chapter 1: The Memorial
I couldn’t help but be annoyed.
The sun had no right to shine. The rain that always fell in Cornwall was burned away by a sunny April morning. It didn’t alleviate my sadness at her passing, but it was a decent excuse for sunglasses.
Ellen had been Nic’s soul and Sean’s rock, and today was her memorial. Just because father and son were sharing it with friends and family didn’t lessen the pain for either of them. Or for any of us. Ellen was important to everyone at the Hermitage.
“Da? Can I carry Mum?” Sean’s young voice accompanied the tug on his father’s suit jacket.
Nic smiled through his resolute determination to see this memorial to its end as soon as possible. Sean was the only one able to pierce the layers of his father’s heart today, and Nic’s expression softened at the contact. He straightened, trying to mimic his son’s proper behavior.
“I’m sure she’d like that.” Nic looked around, unsure who oversaw Ellen’s ashes at her memorial.
That was Death’s job, and I stepped up, placing the urn in Sean’s small hands. “Here you go.”
Sean stoically accepted his new duty with a demeanor of importance, ready to lead the procession of grieving family and friends to a pond on the estate where Ellen had preferred to spend her time.
“Mathair? Seanair?” Sean used the Scottish salutation for his grandparents, motioning they should follow him. “Uncle Dillon.” Ellen’s brother nodded to his nephew, first in the line with a grieving parent on each side.
Sean pulled Rory beside him to lead family and friends along the path towards the spot chosen for her memorial.
Over the last nine years, Sean Barnaby and Aurora Argent had been inseparable – Rory, Sean called her. Now everyone called her that. The two children didn’t speak during the trek, although their synchronized actions were a confirmation to everyone of the telepathic connection they shared, a trait usually attributed to twins. Any technicality of their different parentage or the six weeks between birthdays was inconsequential in keeping them from acting like brother and sister. The two of them played together, ate together, and slept in the same room until they started school, which they attended together.
Rory and Sean shared every moment of their life from their close birthdays to now, the memorial of Sean’s mother, Ellen.
Even in the sunshine, we were layered against the morning chill under the long-sleeved commemorative tee shirt designed by Rory, with Ellen’s likeness in the sun’s face drawn on the backside. The line of mourners created a river of pale-yellow flowing slowly through the Hermitage, picking up more friends in the growing cortège.
The doctors had diagnosed Ellen's cancer while she was pregnant with Sean, and it progressed rapidly after his birth. Three years ago, Roman and Marlowe Argent moved the Arcana leadership from NYC to Cornwall, England, so Ellen could be closer to her parents in Scotland. The Hermitage estate Marlowe inherited from her grandfather was a village, and it provided Ellen with the care she needed.
Top of the 9th, Ellen called her time at the Hermitage.
The Bottom of the 9th had come and gone too quickly. In the end, Ellen was weak and disoriented from the medications, and sleeping most of the time. In the last few weeks, she wouldn’t eat, and quickly dwindled to a frail shell. But she never forgot who Nic and Sean were to her, and she shined her love on them with every waking breath.
Today was a rare spring morning with the sun playing peekaboo between the new growth in the tall, ancient trees on the property. A gentle breeze carried the sound of wind chimes hanging on every branch along the path. Small chimes with high vibrations rang in harmony with the deep gongs of larger tubes. Chimes were the symbol of remembrance Ellen had chosen. She would have loved this day.
As a remembrance gift, the Arcana members had built a large sundial in front of a dock at the small pond where Ellen liked to sit. The dial was six feet in diameter, using onyx as the base. The solid gold gnomon cast shadows to mark the hours on brass inlaid timelines. A short, white stone balustrade circled the dial, and Ellen’s friends took their seats along the stone benching.
I brought up the rear of the procession and stood on the outskirts. Death was always last.
A trellis threaded with English ivy and accented with gardenia blooms, Ellen’s favorite, provided a place of shade for the immediate family to sit. Sean’s free hand wormed itself into his father’s fist, his other clinging to the urn of Ellen’s ashes. Rory whispered something to Sean and his head shook. He perched on one side of the chair and nodded for Rory to join him. Always inseparable.
Nic’s deep breath did little to hide his grief, but in the Arcana's Family there was nothing to hide. Everyone had witnessed Ellen’s long and ugly fight with cancer. The faces staring at him held the same resolve. The same loss. The same tears.
Today, we would set her free.
“Thank you.” Nic's choked voice broke the silence. “Just because you know the outcome, doesn’t make the finale easier to accept.” Nic’s start was rough, his voice gravelly. “But being surrounded by family and friends helps more than you know, and Sean and I are glad you’re here with us.” Father and son shared a sad smile. “Ellen was our Light. Wife. Mother. Daughter. Friend. Our sunshine. Your Sun,” he added, referencing the tarot's Arcana position she held. “She didn’t want any kind of big affair – although the lot of you makes every gathering large.” Nic smiled at the chuckles from his friends. “Thank you for being here to share our grief, as you have been here for the last ten years to share our joys.”
Nic wanted to say more. He tried to say more, but his throat choked on every attempt, and finally, he sat, tapping his son's knee, taking the small hand into his to borrow Sean’s strength.
Marlowe rose from the circular seating around the sundial, coming first to kiss Nic’s cheek, then Sean’s. She smiled at the role her daughter played as Sean’s sister, knowing it lessened his grief, and nodded to Ellen’s family, who she'd grown close with since our move to the Hermitage in Cornwall.
With a slow sigh, she turned to the Arcana Family.
“Ellen was my best friend. My heart-sister. Although her life was short, her heritage will carry long into the future." Marlowe felt a maternal love for Sean even if she wasn't his natural parent. Sean had nursed at her breast allowing Ellen to receive chemotherapy after he was born. They were family.
Marlowe smiled at Nic. "You can only imagine the number of promises I made to Ellen regarding you and Sean.” She smirked when Roman chuckled. “I intend to honor every one of them,” she emphasized to her husband, “and to honor Ellen’s memory as the most joyful part of our friendship.” Tears left trails running down her cheeks, but Marlowe smiled through them, aiming her gaze at the young boy holding tightly to his chest his mother’s ashes in an urn.
Marlowe tapped two fingers over her heart. “Here forever.”
Everyone in the circle mirrored her action, tapping two fingers over their heart. “Here forever.”
Roman stood as Marlowe sat, giving a hand signal to Nic that meant everything was fine, even though it was not fine.
“I promised Ellen I’d drink with you every August 7th.” He referred to Nic and Ellen’s wedding anniversary, and he nodded to his closest friend with a solemn smile before he sat. “Mark your diary now.” Nic’s head dipped in agreement.
“I promised Ellen I’d cook for you every September 28th,” Temperance announced, standing and sitting like a jack-in-the-box. That date was Ellen’s birthday.
“She asked me to call Sean every year after the first day of school.” Asher gave a mock bow to the young boy and then a wink. “You’d better answer the phone, too.” Sean nodded gravely.
“Ah promised yer màthair to dress like Santa at every Yuletide.” Kyren winked at Sean. “Pr’tend you dinnae ken it’s me.”
Ellen had solicited promises from everyone, and one by one we confessed our vows. Dates, memories, and expectations were established. Everyone in the Arcana had a part to play in the family she left behind. Nic pulled Sean to his side, breathing easier as each promise was declared, keenly aware they weren’t suffering this loss alone.
It was my turn to speak, the last member of the Arcana. I removed my sunglasses to wipe the falling tears from my face. The same redness burned in everyone's eyes. The same salt was on everyone's lips. I wanted everyone to know that Death also grieved.
“Ellen believed dying was not a tragedy, but the ultimate freedom.” I smiled in Sean’s direction before turning to the group seated around the sundial. “You might be surprised that Ellen taught me a lot about death in these last few months,” I admitted. “But what made the biggest impact was the story she told when she solicited my promise.” I looked at each of the Arcana Keys and then smiled at Sean before telling the story.
“Your mother believed people die twice in their life. The first death frees the soul from the body. She looked forward to that freedom. She never feared it.” I smiled affectionately at Sean. “And she considered the second death as the last time someone said her name. So, I promised Ellen to say her name every day. And rest assured, Death keeps his promise. To Ellen,” I swore reverently.
“Ellen.” Her name carried on the breeze, whispered from everyone’s lips like Amen to a prayer.
Her suffering was finally over, but ours would continue. Life. Without. Ellen.
The sound of Roman’s phone cut sharply through the silence, startling everyone. It was difficult to tell if Nic was irritated or relieved at the disruption. My eyes traveled the group, wondering who texted if all the Arcana were here.
But if someone rang the Magi, it had to be an emergency. Roman glanced apologetically towards Nic and stepped out of the circle, walking towards the pond for privacy as he pulled the phone from his back pocket.
And then Marlowe’s phone beeped.
Moments later, I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate with a text. Within seconds, the entire Arcana had erupted with notifications.
I watched Nic stand, not acknowledging the text he was surely receiving as well.
“Give me thirty minutes,” Nic asked of Marlowe before she pulled the phone from her pocket. He knew Roman would call a meeting next. Something – whatever this was about – would require a meeting with all the Arcana. “I need to talk to the family.”
Not releasing Sean’s hand, Nic nodded for Ellen’s family to follow him. Sean stalled, glancing between his father and Rory, now sitting alone under the flowered arch, and with a nod of his head Rory joined Sean as the family returned to the house.
Despite my initial hesitation, I opened the message to discover the reason for the interruption.
Darius Marello found dead in New Orleans, floating in the Mississippi River.
Well, it wasn’t bad news.
Around me, everyone was reacting to the same announcement, comparing information we’d each received from our sources.
Marlowe walked to where Roman was in conversation with someone, pacing in a circle while he talked. She waved to catch his attention and leaned into her husband's side as his arm slipped around her waist, continuing with his exchange.
Darius Marello was a member of the Arkane. Well, an ex-member now. And technically, the Arkane didn’t exist anymore, either, although many of its leadership were still being hunted. Now – one less. The Arkane organization should have crumbled with those Trump positions in jail or hiding. Or dead. But Darius Marello had skipped bail in the UK on charges of murder and extortion almost 10 years ago. The hunt to find him was extensive, and unsuccessful. No one could imagine what would draw him to New Orleans.
While Marello's death would bring a sliver of relief to the Arcana, it also opened a can of worms. The Arkane were driven by a desire for power; achieving it through rituals and murders was not a relief to anyone. Knowing one murder followed ten silent years from the Arkane, now we expected more.
Someone was trying to take control of the Arkane, and that put the Arcana in their sights, even if the first murder was one of their own.
Chapter 2: Who Killed Darius Marello
llen’s memorial was exceptionally difficult for me to endure. I had never experienced death personally. And it sucked.
I was glad Nic requested thirty minutes before the Arcana meeting; I needed out of this shirt. I needed away from the group of friends pretending to be happy that Ellen was ‘free’. Free. And where did that leave us? Where did that leave Nic? And Sean? I never wanted to lose anyone I loved again. Don’t. Love. Anyone.
Even from inside the house, I heard the ringing wind chimes from along the road like an earworm. Despite the early hour, I wanted a drink. Needed it. I headed to the parlor to wait for said meeting.
The celebration of Ellen’s wake had shifted with the news of Marello’s death, and now the room held an abundance of food that no one had an appetite for. I opened the wine chilling in a tub of ice, Pinot Grigio, Ellen’s favorite, and suddenly, the room was full of Arcana members holding a glass for me to fill. Apparently, we all needed a drink. I emptied that bottle and half of another, oddly gratified that everyone had taken the time to change out of the memorial tee shirt, even if the meeting looked like a funeral now that we were all wearing black.
Tuning out the many toasts to their memories of Ellen, I drank straight from the remaining bottle, which spoke volumes about my mood. I never wanted to experience another day like today.
There was a time when I thought Roman and Marlowe had it all. I thought the same about Nic and Ellen. True love. Children. Home. Family. Purpose. I dreamed of having what the Arcana leaders had in their life.
Now I realized what it gave them was more to lose, and suddenly, I didn’t want what Roman and Marlowe shared. I certainly didn’t want what Nic was feeling.
Ten years ago, when Marlowe joined the Arcana, the couples fell together almost naturally. Marlowe and Roman. Nic and Ellen. Isis and Gene. Even Temperance and Ash finally acknowledged what they shared was a serious relationship. Everywhere I looked, I saw love.
Now, everywhere I looked, I saw pain. It wasn't even mine, and it was unbearable.
As an orphan, I never experienced the passing of a parent or siblings. My only friends were part of the Arcana, and Ellen’s was the first death in our group. I felt it with every desperate breath I inhaled. Ellen was the Arcana’s Sun, and in her absence, the world was now filled with clouds. The room even smelled like petrichor.
Of course she was ‘in a better place’, finding freedom from her pain and suffering. Cancer proved ruthless in the end. Some may even miss Ellen more than me, if that’s measurable. As her husband, Nic was certainly devastated. And Sean might not realize it now, but he’d miss her more as he grew to maturity. Hell, I missed my parents, and I’d never known them.
My promise to Ellen was not to forget. Death never forgets. Subconsciously, I tapped two fingers over my heart. Ellen.
