Page 7 of Bedrest Blues & Otherworldly Clues
The fierce love in his eyes momentarily silenced my protests. This was Aidon, Lord of Shadows, son of the Underworld, the most formidable protector I could imagine. And he was terrified. Not of Lyra or her creatures, but of losing me and our unborn children.
I let him ease me back against the pillows, conceding this battle even as my mind raced with plans and possibilities. Magical bedrest didn't mean I was completely powerless. I couldn't cast spells or join patrols, but I still had my mind, my knowledge, and my experience.
"Tell me everything you know about these new creatures," I said, settling into what Stella called my strategy mode. "If Lyra's evolving her attack, we need to adapt our defenses."
For the first time in three days, I felt a sense of purpose blooming within me. I might be confined to this bed, but I refused to be confined in my thinking. If direct action were forbidden, then I would find other ways to contribute. The triplets' magic swirled contentedly inside me, as if approving of this new approach.
Aidon watched for random levitations or flickering lights. There were none. I’d accepted that my world had narrowed to this bedroom. But within those constraints, I was still Phoebe, still a Pleiades witch, still part of this fight. And I would find a way to help win it, rules or no rules.
CHAPTER 3
The small victory of finding purpose while confined to bed didn't last long. By the next morning, I'd developed a new routine. I woke up and stared at the ceiling. Then I tried not to feel completely useless while everyone else dealt with magical threats. That day marked day five of my imprisonment. The only difference was that I'd convinced Aidon to let me have a corkboard brought in so I could at least map out defense strategies.
"If I can't join the fight physically, I can still contribute intellectually," I'd argued. "My brain works fine even if my body is temporarily out of commission."
He'd relented, though reluctantly. Now the board leaned against the wall opposite my bed. It was covered in notes, drawings, and ideas. It gave me something to focus on besides my growing frustration.
I was halfway through sketching a new ward configuration when I noticed something odd on my bedroom ceiling. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. It started as an odd visual distortion. It was like the watery mirage that danced above stones in a dry riverbed. As I narrowed myeyes to focus, the distortion crystallized into clear patterns. Intricate symbols materialized and vanished in coordinated waves, following some unseen rhythm.
"What the hell?" I muttered as I struggled to prop myself up for a better look.
They formed concentric triangles with strange runes between them. If my gut was right, they were tracking something. I placed a hand on my belly and felt the triplets shift. Simultaneously, the symbols brightened in response. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and dialed Aidon.
"Is everything alright?" His voice was tense with immediate concern.
"Don't panic, but there's something on our ceiling you need to see." I’d barely gotten the words out, and the line went dead.
The sound of pounding feet filled the house, and he was standing in our doorway in under thirty seconds. Shadows were swirling around him as he stalked across the room. His eyes immediately lifted to where I was pointing.
"How long has that been there?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
"I just noticed it. But the way it's responding to the babies' movements, I'm guessing it's been tracking them for a while." I opted to tell him exactly what I thought. I needed him to handle this one since I was on magical lockdown.
Aidon's shadows expanded and reached toward the ceiling. The moment they touched the symbols, they scattered like startled birds. It reformed in a slightly different position. “They don’t feel malevolent, but I’ve never encountered anything like it,” he reluctantly admitted.
"Get Mom and Jean-Marc," I said. "And Clio. She should know since this could be affecting the babies."
Aidon nodded grimly and disappeared. Within minutes, my bedroom had become command central. Mom examinedthe ceiling with narrowed eyes, while Jean-Marc consulted a thick, leather-bound tome he'd brought with him.
"I’d say Phoebe is right in a way. It seems to be gathering information," Mom concluded after several probing spells.
"No doubt she figured out a way to record the babies' magical signatures," Nana added from the door as she walked in.
"Can you remove them and sever any connection?" I asked.
Mom shook her head. "Watch." She directed a burst of cleansing magic at the symbols. They scattered again, only to reform on the adjacent wall. "It just relocates. Traditional dispelling doesn't work."
"And there's no magical residue we can trace," Nana added darkly. "I hate to say it, but Lyra is ten steps ahead of us."
"Of course, the bitch is," I said. Her name was bitter on my tongue.
Jean-Marc glanced up from his book with a grim expression. "I've been researching similar cases. There are historical accounts of witches targeted specifically during pregnancy." He hesitated, clearly weighing whether to continue.
"Tell me," I insisted. "I need to know what we're dealing with."
He sighed, turning the book toward me. The pages showed disturbing illustrations of rituals performed on pregnant witches. "These ancient texts describe rituals that can only be performed on pregnant witches carrying powerful offspring. The unborn children act as magical conduits, amplifying certain types of dark magic beyond normal limits."
"And these symbols?" I gestured toward the ceiling, feeling sick.
