Spells Trouble, Kristin Cast [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

words, cleared her throat, and said, “I am the Green Witch, Mercy, daughter of the mighty Kitchen Witch, Abigail, Keeper of the Five Gates of Goodeville.”

Beside her Hunter also lowered her club-like weapon and spoke with calm surety, like introducing herself to a half-man, half-dragon was something she did all the time. “And I am the Cosmic Witch, Hunter, also daughter of the magnificent Kitchen Witch, Abigail, and like my sister I am Keeper of the Five Gates of Goodeville.”

“So we three are demi-gods, Gate Guardians between the realms of the worlds,” said the creature. He took a small step back so that when he bowed his massive head it didn’t cross the flickering barrier before him. “Well met, Witches.”

Mercy was standing there, mouth flopped open, but Hunter recovered more quickly. She nudged her with an elbow before executing something that looked like a bow and a curtsey had had a baby. “Merry meet,” said Hunter.

Mercy quickly follow suit as she, too, dipped her head and her knees and murmured, “Merry meet.”

The creature put his shield down beside him. His body language instantly appeared more relaxed with the ease of his wide shoulders and the way he clasped his hands loosely in front of him.

“Forgive me for threatening you. This gate has been problematic, and when it called to me I assumed it had continued to deteriorate, perhaps allowing a beast from another realm to enter.”

“Wait, the gate called you?” Mercy asked.

“And what does problematic mean?” added Hunter.

He was looking back and forth between the girls, and his eyes suddenly widened. “You are twins!”

Mercy squelched the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, we are.” Then she added impulsively, “What are you?”

The creature’s head swiveled to her and through the glowing barrier it looked as if he were a bizarre deep-sea monster moving through water. “As I said, I am Khenti Amenti, son of the immortal warrior Upuaut, Gate Guardian of the Realm of Osiris.”

“No, she means what are you.” Hunter spoke up. “Not who. In our world there are no people who have the heads of, um, not people.”

“How odd,” said Khenti.

He raised his hand and waved it in front of his reptilian face. The air before him swirled with mist, dark as his onyx scales. Mercy squinted to try to see what he was doing, but her vision of him was just too unstable, though when the mist finally cleared she blinked rapidly and her eyes managed to focus well enough through the fishbowl-like glimpse into his world to see that in place of the dragon was the head and neck of a man—actually, not a man, Mercy thought. He doesn’t look much older than us. Even though his body was football-star strong and tall and muscular, his face was young and smooth. Now that the dragon head was gone, Mercy decided his skin wasn’t bronze like a statue, but more acorn-colored with a golden tint like it’d been kissed, a lot, by the summer sun.

“Thanks,” Hunter said. “That face is easier for us to understand.”

His dark brows lifted. “You truly have no demi-gods or gods who use the visage of beasts in your world?”

“We truly do not,” said Mercy.

“Seriously,” said Hunter. “Now, what about the gate calling you and disintegrating?”

As he spoke the air between them continued to pulse and glowed, bubble-like, in the center of the trees. Even though Mercy tried to see what was behind him, it was too obscured by the strange barrier to allow her to make out more than darkness highlighted with splotches of colors. “I heard voices. I understand now they were yours, Gatekeepers. I could not catch the words, but I felt drawn to the gate. Though I will admit I have recently remained nearby as I could tell it was weakening.”

“How could you tell?” asked Mercy.

“In my world it is an orb—a glowing sphere—in a far corner of Osiris’s realm, the Underworld. It is usually colored brilliantly with violets and silvers, turquoise, sapphire, and the pink of a perfect lotus bloom, but over the past several phases of the moon the colors have changed, darkened and muddied. And the scent.” He wrinkled his straight nose. “It reeks of decay. So, I have remained near, standing guard so that none of those contained here can escape—and no creatures from other realms enter.”

Mercy felt a shiver of fear finger down the nape of her neck. “That can happen? I mean, our gate is sick, too, but it’s still standing.” She gestured at the cluster of trees he’d materialized within. “These palms keep our side of the gate closed. They’re not doing great, but they’re still alive. Can things go back and forth even now?”

“Yes, but only if a Gatekeeper is not strong enough to stop them.” He stood taller. “I am strong enough.”

“That’s what you heard,” said Hunter. “We were casting a spell to strengthen and heal the palms.”

Mercy nodded. “Yeah, we thought if we could heal the trees, the gate would be better, too. Does your side of the gate look any different since we cast the healing spell?”

The young Egyptian sighed and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “No, it does not.”

“You called us demons and monsters,” said Mercy. “Why did you assume we were enemies?”

The warrior shrugged his broad shoulders as their view of him continued to shift and pixilate. “The only beings who wish to escape from Osiris’s realm are evil, those who are being punished for the wrongs they committed on earth. I assumed it was the same in your world.”

“This isn’t our Underworld. This is just the regular mortal realm,” explained Mercy. “There are lots of different kinds of people here. Most of them aren’t monsters at all.”

“But you have more Gatekeepers like yourselves who protect your world, do you not?”

Hunter picked at her thumb. “Um. No. We’re pretty much it.”

His smooth brow wrinkled in confusion. “Did you not say you are guardians of five gates?”

“Yeah,” said Mercy. “There’re all here—in our town.”

“But your