The Unicorn Key Read online

  The Unicorn Key

  Realm of Light and Fire

  J. A. Culican

  J. A. Armitage

  Copyright © 2019 by J.A. Culican and J.A. Armitage

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Ebook cover by Covers by Juan

  Typography by Enchanted Quill Press

  Wrap by Enchanted Quill Press

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  About J.A. Culican

  Also by J.A. Culican

  About J.A. Armitage

  Also by J.A. Armitage

  Chapter One

  The blood flowed thickly, a red river breaking its banks, pouring into the sink. It reminded me of something. A long-forgotten dream, but I couldn't latch onto what.

  "Freya. Are you ok?" I snapped out of my trance to find my mother inspecting my finger, where I'd just accidentally sliced it. She ran it under the cool water of the faucet and wrapped it expertly with a small bandage we kept nearby for such emergencies.

  "You'll get blood on the carrots if you're not careful," she admonished, giving me a wry smile. "Here, take this while I wash the other knife. You got blood all over it."

  She took the sharp knife I'd been using to cut the carrots and handed me a much blunter one.

  Long, curly brown hair stuck to the back of my neck as the humidity crept inside our small bungalow. The band keeping my hair up had burst under the thickness of my mane mere minutes ago while I helped my ma bring in supper from the garden. Now, the sweat ran in rivulets down my neck under the heat. The weather was unseasonably hot for this time of the year, and it messed with the frizz I called a hairstyle. Pulling a piece of ribbon from a drawer, I bound my unruly mop and tied it back away from my face, wiping my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

  The chop, chop, chop from the dull blade I used to cut up the carrots, mingled with the squeak, squeak, squeak of my Grandfather’s chair, created the now-familiar melody that represented the monotony of my life. I peeked over my shoulder at my Grandfather, seeing only the back of his head over the rocking chair, bobbing forward and backward with each movement. My eyes drifted over to the fireplace next to him. Usually, we’d be keeping it stoked with firewood at this time of year, but outside we had a pile of firewood I’d spent ages chopping, left untouched. A memory flitted into my consciousness. The memory of when we’d dug out the fireplace, my grandfather and I.

  “Freya, grab that rock by your foot and add it to the pile,” Grandfather had said as he slammed the shovel into the ground for what felt like the hundredth time.

  Dropping to my knees, I hauled the rock out of the pit and threw it over to the pile we’d been collecting as we dug. The rocks scattered down the sides of the mound as the larger boulder collided with the heap. We definitely had enough now to make a border around Ma’s new fireplace. She had always wanted one inside the house to use for cooking and warmth, and finally, she was going to get one.

  “Ma should be home soon.” I reminded my Grandfather as he struck the earth again.

  “We’re just about done.” Grandfather heaved. “Your Ma is going to be so proud of how hard you worked today. We’ve made much more progress than I had anticipated.” He winked at me over his shoulder as he climbed out of the hole.

  “You did all the hard work, Grandfather. All I did was collect rocks.” I laughed at the truth.

  “No, Freya. You did much more than collect rocks. Not once, did you falter or complain. I don’t know too many other thirteen-year-olds who would volunteer to spend their day off digging a hole with their old grandfather.” he said as he brushed his hands down his gray pants attempting to clean them off.

  I shrugged. Truth was, I didn’t have much else to do, my ma and grandfather being the only family I had left; and the fact that none of the other kids in town talked to me. Not since—

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder as my Grandfather’s dark eyes found mine. “You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I am very proud of you, my dear Freya.”

  Those were the last words he’d ever said to me.

  I blew out a harsh breath as the reality of my present life came crashing back. Squeezing my eyes, I turned back to the vegetables in front of me. I snatched another carrot out of the wicker basket on the counter and began the chop, chop, chop once again. The beat of the knife against the board below steadied my racing heart as the memory of my Grandfather’s last words washed over me.

  A loud knocking at the door stopped my hand mid-air as I went to grab a tomato. My eyes met my mother’s, and with a shrug, I headed to the door. It wasn’t often we had visitors; I honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone ventured out our way, especially unannounced.

  My hand slid around the iron doorknob as I pulled it towards me. On the other side of the threshold stood two people. The boy in front caught my eye first as he stood slightly in front of the other. His black-as-night hair highlighted his pale skin. With a tilt of his head, he scanned me from toe to head. A gasp left me as his emerald eyes locked with mine. Never in my life had I seen a green so bright. His eyes must have been something special because it wasn’t until after my mother called out from the kitchen that I even noticed the girl standing behind him, and she was not a girl you'd easily miss.

  “Who is it, Freya?”

  I looked from the boy to the girl who had now pushed him to one side. Pink and purple hair assaulted my eyes. I’d never seen anything like it before, and yet, the pastel colors of her hair matched the pale blue of her eyes and her baby pink lips. Both of them were strangely beautiful with their ethereal appearances, and though they couldn’t have been more different, they shared facial similarities, and I wondered if they were related somehow.

  “We are looking for Seth,” the girl said. Even her voice sounded strange. Light and lilting, barely above a whisper, and she had a trace of an accent I couldn’t quite place. One thing was for sure. These two were not from around here. Which begged the question, how did they know my Grandfather?

  Behind me, I heard the heavy footfall of my mother coming through the house. I’d still not answered her question, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure how. Turning, I saw her making her way towards us, her wild, dark hair sticking up everywhere from the heat in the kitchen.

  “Seth,” I repeated dumbfounded. I’d not heard his name spoken out loud in what seemed like forever. In our house, both my mother and I called him Grandfa.

  I could imagine the confused expression on my face. No one ever came around for my grandfather. Most of the town had written him off as good as dead five years ago when he’d had the stroke and with it the ability of speech.

  “Yes, Seth Roman. Do you know him?” The girl asked, her arms crossed, her toe tapping on the wooden step below her feet. Her mannerisms left no doubt in my mind she didn’t really have time to wait, which put me further on edge.

  “It’s important that we speak to him immediately,” she continued.

  Yeah, I gathered from your impatient stance.

  “Is this a joke? Who sent you over here?” my voice raised as I spoke. These people were around my age, which meant they couldn’t have been more than thirteen when my Grandfather got sick. He’d not left our house in five years, and in all that time, no one had come to call on him. Even when he was healthy, he liked to keep to himself.

  “Freya.” My Ma’s voice came from next to me as she placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. “Who are your friends?”

  “No friends of mine, Ma; some tricksters it seems from town... or somewhere.” I didn't trust strangers, and these two were stranger than most.

  The two exchanged a bewildered look, and once again, the boy stepped forward. “I apologize for any misunderstanding, but like my sister said, it is very important that we talk to Seth Roman immediately. I assure you we aren’t here to trick anyone.”

  And yet you want to speak to a man who hasn't spoken in five years. No trick, my arse!

  Yeah, these two were really putting me on edge

  I clenched my jaw, waiting for the punch line of whatever joke they intended. “What could you possibly…”

  Cutting me off, my Ma waved the two in. I guess she was a lot more believing than I was. As the two siblings walked by me, I noticed the boy whose hair I thought was black was actually a deep blue. These two were quite strange, and I didn’t like the way my mother ushered them into the house. For all she knew, they were here to steal from us. Not that we owned much, but what other reason would they be here? I knew
for sure they couldn’t be here for my Grandfather like they said. Closing the door after them, I ventured into the sitting area, making sure they didn’t try taking something and hiding it in their pockets. My grandfather was still sitting in his chair, facing the far window as he always did. Even with all the ruckus, he hadn’t moved an inch. Just continued to rock in his chair, staring out into the garden.

  “We really need to talk to Seth Roman. It’s a matter of some urgency.” The girl announced again, not even flicking her eyes toward my grandfather.

  Calm down, Freya, I told myself. The joke will come out soon enough, and I can get back to making stew

  “Yes, I understand.” My mother started as she glanced over at me with a questioning look in her eyes. She brought her hand up to her temple and scratched, confusion clouding her features. “But I’m afraid he isn’t really up for company. How do you know him? You look awfully young to be friends with Seth. You must have been children when he…”

  “Please, if you could just tell him we need a minute.” The girl cut in. She rocked on her feet as though we were taking too long, her impatience obvious.

  I wondered if she'd fight back if I smacked her.

  There was no doubt in my mind that the strange couple was up to no good, and by the gods, they were annoying. Well, the girl was. Why were they asking for my Grandfather when he was in plain view of them? Neither one had acknowledged his existence. I could tell by the expression on my mother’s face that she was beginning to regret bringing them into the house. I gave her a nod to tell her I’d deal with them as I didn’t want her upset. She took the hint and headed back into the open kitchen.

  “Why do you want to speak to him?” I asked the girl, curious about what they would come up with. She obviously didn’t like the question because when she spoke, she answered it with a question of her own, a pinched expression on her face.

  “Can you please just tell him that Opal and Jet are here to see him? He’ll know who you are talking about.”

  I glanced toward my mother, who shrugged her shoulders and then raised her hands as if to say why not?

  “Seth Roman is my grandfather,” I said slowly. The look of hope on their faces was unmistakable when they realized they were in the right place. Maybe they were here to see him after all, but I couldn’t for the life of me, imagine why. “You can talk all you want to him, as long as you don’t expect a response back.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jet asked as he grabbed one of my uncut carrots off the counter and began to bring it towards his mouth.

  The anger that had been bubbling up at the rudeness of the pair of them reached a peak. I snatched the carrot from his hand and glared at him.

  “It means,” I began, my voice raising an octave as I spoke, “It means you came in here asking to speak to my Grandfather, and yet not once in the last five minutes, have you even bothered to look his way.”

  I glanced over to my grandfather, still unmoving, and both of our visitor’s eyes followed as if they had just noticed there was someone else in the room.

  “Is that...” Opal took a step toward Grandfather. “It can’t be. You don’t understand.” She stopped and stared as his rocking chair squeaked back and forth.

  No one said anything as all eyes locked on my grandfather.

  “Go ahead!” I gestured toward my grandfather, “But I should warn you, he hasn’t said a word in half a decade. I’m sorry if you’ve come far to see him, but it has probably been a wasted journey.”

  The two strangers stared at my grandfather's recumbent form. Reclining as he was in his chair, all we could see of him was the back of his head and one of his hands that sat limply on the armrest.

  He’d sat in the same position for over five years, unmoving beyond the slow, but steady, rhythm of the rocking chair as he moved it with his foot. We had been told that there was no cure and nothing we could do to stop it. All we could do was make him comfortable and keep him safe. So, that’s what we’d done. Every second of every hour, either my Ma or myself was with him. We owed my grandfather everything, so never had I questioned taking care of him or thought of it as a hindrance. My ma and I did exactly what my grandfather would do for anyone else and had done before the stroke took him away from us.

  I turned my attention back to the brother and sister just in time for a look of panic to pass between them, and I wondered what my Grandfather being ill could mean for them.

  “Maybe you can help us?” Jet broke the awkwardness. The sulky manner he shared with his sister lifted. “I mean Seth has always been…was always there for us. If you’re anything like him....”

  I waved my hands in the air to cut him off. “Listen, I have no idea how you think my grandfather has helped you two in the past, but I’m starting to think you have the wrong person. You can see for yourself how sick he is. He’s been like this for years.”

  “No, it’s him,” Opal stated as she walked around his chair to get a good look at him. She reached out to touch his hand, and the sour expression she'd held this whole time lightened. I was stuck with how pretty she looked without a scowl on her face. She did know him after all, but even so. If she knew him, why hadn't she visited him before?

  Cutting her off, I stepped in front of her. “Don’t,” I growled at her. Who did she think she was?

  Azure eyes flashed with anger and something else as she growled right back at me. “The light has dimmed and has continued to dim now for three days. Do you understand that?”

  Actually, that little comment left me even more confused as we stared each other down. The sun was still visible through the window, and as far as I could see, was brighter and hotter than ever. I didn’t have the first clue what she was talking about, but her tone left little to the imagination. She was angry, and now, so was I.

  Opal continued with a shake of her head, “Your grandfather is the only one who knows where the sacred diamond can be found. The Divine Fae Cassiopeia has been tasked with guarding….”

  “Cassie. What’s happened to her?”

  The crashing of dishes my ma dropped on the stone floor barely registered as we all turned wide-eyed to my grandfather. The spell broke when my ma dashed from the counter to my grandfather’s side, who was currently trying to stand.

  “Tell me. What’s wrong?” My grandfather’s voice broke through.

  A voice I hadn’t heard in five years. My breathing increased, and my stomach clenched as I took in the miracle that was happening to my grandfather. A miracle I'd prayed for, for years. The anger I'd felt before fell away, leaving only a sense of disbelief.

  “We don’t know exactly,” Opal answered, seemingly unmoved by the fact that my grandfather had just spoken. “We just know she is in trouble. We’ve been watching, and the light is disappearing.”

  I stared at him open-mouthed as he conversed with this strange woman, as though he’d not spent the last five years in complete silence. It was as though his stroke was but a mere pause, and he’d taken up where he’d left off.

  “You must go. There is no time to waste.” My grandfather fought against my ma, who was doing her best to wrestle him back into his chair and clambered to his feet with a slight sway. “You can’t do this alone, but I am too old to help.” He turned to me. Our eyes met, and I found myself looking right at my grandfather, a man who’d not even known who I was or registered my existence since I was thirteen years old. “Freya, my darling girl, you must go with them in my place. You can help.”

  Shaking my head in an attempt not to hyperventilate, I tried to catch up with everything that was going on. My grandfather was standing and talking to me while my ma had given up trying to pull him back down into his rocking chair and was now staring at him with an expression I’m sure I matched. All while these two newcomers were talking about some mumbo jumbo about Fae and light. And somehow, this crazy talk woke my Grandfather up, something we were told would never happen by the countless healers we’d brought in to look at him in the early days.