“You better go get your mom.” I say. “Do you want me to ride with you?”
He’s confused as to why everyone’s gathered around the map, but I can see him decide not to pursue that at the moment. “It’s after midnight. You better go home. Everything’s under control here now.”
Taking the hint, we begin to rise. Hopper lifts the books from the map and Kaan rolls it up. Quinn shows us all to the front door and ushers us out, but I hold back, taking his hand after the others have left.
“I’m really sorry about the trees. Any idea how it started? Do you really think it was Watson and her group?”
He draws me onto the front porch, closes and locks the door. Then he points to the corner of the porch ceiling. “I installed a camera here, at the back door, and on the barn earlier today before I came to see you. When I return from picking up Mom, I’m going to review the footage and see if they set the fire.”
“You are good,” I say under my breath.
A grin. “Intelligence officer, at your service. I should have installed a complete security system here a long time ago.”
“What are you going to do if it was purposely started by someone?”
We head to his truck, and I hear the putt, putt, putt of Winter’s Bug parked alongside the ditch near the front gate. My sisters are climbing in, but waiting for me.
“They’re trying to chase us off this land, and what better way to do that than damage the crops Mom and Dad need to get them through the rest of the year. Watson won’t be on camera, but her minions might. If so, I’ll take it to McGregor and have them arrested.”
He leans down and kisses me gently and then walks me to Winter’s car. He opens the door and helps me inside. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I stop him before he can close it. “Call me as soon as you look at the video footage.”
His face is mostly in shadows, but I see him smile. “Thanks again for putting out the fire.”
He turns and heads back to his truck as we drive off.
“Quinn believes Watson and her group purposely started the fire,” I tell my sisters.
“Does he have proof?” Winter asks.
“He might.”
“The corporation doesn’t worry me,” Summer says. “The walking dead? They worry me.”
We drive in silence the rest of the way, and reconvene in our kitchen, with Kaan, Prue, Hopper, and Tristan. Once again we lay out the map, and as we dig into the problem of the skeletons that rose from their graves, my father shows up.
15
I embrace Dad, noting he’s brought someone with him.
“Spring texted me about the fire,” he says, holding on to my arms. “You did a good thing, saving the farm.”
He looks as tired as I feel, his hair is hanging loose over his shoulders instead of in his usual braids. His leather jacket has long fringes and an eagle beaded across the back.
“Yes, but magick always has a price,” I whisper. “Mom taught us that, and I saw it firsthand tonight.”
“Everything has consequences,” he amends, wise understanding in his eyes. Spring must’ve told him about the zombies, too, and he strokes my hair as if soothing a child. That’s why he’s here—he knows I’m silently freaking out. “It will be okay.”
His calm demeanor sends my fears packing for now. Dad is here. Everything will be.
He turns to the young man with him and looks at everyone. “This is Ronan Walkingstick.” He gestures to the group, introducing Tristan, Hopper, Kaan, and Prue. “And of course, you remember my girls.”
Hale’s older half-brother smiles at us as the others greet him. Spring inclines her head in a hello; Summer seems as if she’s scanning her memory. Winter, to my side. She stiffened the moment Ronan walked into the room.
He’s tall like Hale but more filled out. He’s a mix of Native American and other nationalities I can only guess at, put together in a very beautiful package.
He’s very much opposite his more traditional looking sibling. His dark hair is short, compared to Hale’s thick, long strands that we girls envy, and it’s spiked. Tiny rows of gold hoops adorn each ear. He wears a dress shirt and black pants, the shoes on his feet black and shiny as though just polished.
His liquid brown eyes scan the group, and he nods at each of us. His gaze stops on Winter, and he goes around me to get to her, wrapping her in an embrace. “It’s so good to see you again,” he says.
A ripple goes through me from Winter, her body softening ever so slightly, then stiffening once more.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
Ronan steps away, eyebrows crashing together in confusion. “Hugging an old friend.”
Turning back the clock, I remember the last time we saw him before he left town with his father. Winter was probably seven, Ronan a year older. Seeing him brings a flash of memories—the two of them climbing trees together, skipping rocks at the springs. For a time, they were inseparable. Him playing at vision quests like his elders and showing her how to do them; her demonstrating her skills at talking to ghosts and making things invisible.
She looks him over from head to toe, and I see her visibly swallow. Her emotions from being completely taken off guard roll through me. “It’s been so long. What are you doing here?”
“Too long,” he admits, and I have a déjà vu moment again—maybe I’m not the only one who has her soulmate returning. “I’m in town to see Mom and Hale. Your dad said you were having issues with that thing in the forest, and I thought I could help.”
Winter flicks an exasperated glance at our father. It’s family business, in her mind, Ronan isn’t family, even if she adores Hale and treats him like a brother.
“It has been a long time,” I say to Ronan, as if explaining why Winter is acting unfriendly. “And we can use all the help we can get when it comes to handling the demon, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
A dark brow rises and Ronan looks at Winter again. “Is there something else going on?”
“Actually, there’s a lot,” I say before she can jump in. “The demon is the least of our worries at the moment.”
Dad grabs a chair. “Let’s have some tea,” he says, pulling it out and sitting down.
Spring is more than happy to serve everyone. Her belief that a cup can help any situation at least gives me something warm and solid to hang onto.
At Dad’s prompting, I explain about the skeletons I raised at the Harrington farm. “It was totally an accident,” I say. “I’m truly not sure how I did it.”
He thinks about it. “You said the four of you were holding hands, and you used Spring’s ability with the earth to open it, correct?”
Three of us bob our heads, Winter stares at the table, her energy rising and falling like a roller coaster, and making me wonder if Ronan’s presence is affecting her more than she’s letting on. I wonder why she’s not happier to see him. They were so close growing up. One of the only friends she ever had as a young girl.
Dad sips his tea. “Your combined Whitethorne power amplified Winter’s ability. That’s the most obvious answer.”
“That’s what I think, too,” Kaan says.
“I cannot raise the dead,” Winter insists without looking up.
“Mom said you could,” Spring argues, gently. “When I spoke to her spirit at Beltane, she said you could raise armies for the Master.”
That’s what the demon’s minions call him.
Winter leans forward and smacks her hand on the table, making the tea in her cup jump. “She’s wrong. That’s a whole different skill set, and one I don’t want anything to do with.”
Ronan, who managed to sit next to her, touches her hand. “There are multiple levels to necromancy,” he says. “The first is simply being able to reach through the veil and pull a spirit back onto this plane in order to communicate. The second is to raise the body only, whether it’s still in complete human form or skeletal.”
Kaan is nodding, the rest of us are staring
at Ronan and Winter, and the fact she hasn’t pulled away from his grasp.
“The third is putting those two together,” Ronan continues, “and pulling the spirit into this plane to reunite it with the body.”
“Like Kaan can,” I say.
He glances around, appearing slightly nervous at being called out. “I only ever did that for Mariel.”
Shade, Winter’s ghostly familiar, appears from thin air and jumps into her lap. I notice Ronan can see the cat and realize he may be a spirit whisperer like Winter.
Slowly, she withdraws her hand from under his. It’s trembling as she pets Shade. The cat has no corporeal body so her hand goes right through it, but Shade still rubs against her like she can feel Winter’s touch. “I tried. It didn’t work.”
We all look at her. “Tried what?” I ask. “Raising the dead?”
Her eyes stay lowered, focusing on her cup. “After Beltane and Mom’s prediction, I went to the woods and practiced. I tried raising a dead squirrel, then a bird, then a rabbit. It never worked.”
She looks up, scanning the group, except for Ronan.
Dad rubs his chin. “It may take the four of you joined together to activate it. Do you think the corpses you raised were reunited with their spirits?”
Winter shakes her head. “They were just skeletons, and they began to grow skin and flesh again, but I didn’t sense any spirit in them.”
Summer fiddles with her braid. “The biggest question is what do we do with them now? We don’t even know where they went.”
We discuss various options and outcomes, but I can tell we’re all too tired and worn out to achieve any solutions. A long silence falls, and I push to my feet. After not sleeping much the previous night, I literally can’t think straight. “We’re not going to solve this tonight. I’m going to bed.”
The others begin to rise as well, and I feel Winter lingering, staying seated, Shade curled in her lap. Ronan speaks so softly to her, I can’t hear his words, but his tone is reassuring. I touch her shoulder in a goodnight gesture, and hug Summer and Spring, along with Dad, before I head to my cabin.
Once inside, I take care of the cats. The whole group is snuggled with Godfrey in front of my fireplace. I light it for them and go to draw a bath.
I stink like smoke and mud, so I toss in my favorite salts and light a candle in the corner. Stripping, I throw my clothes in my tiny washing machine before sinking into the water. I drift off for a few minutes and wake to find Godfrey on the edge of the tub. I swing a hand at him. “You’re a piece of work,” I tell him. “Staring at a naked woman while she’s asleep in the bathtub.”
He jumps to the bathroom floor and preens. Don’t flatter yourself. I was trying to get your attention because the fire is so hot, we all had to move. Plus, I’m hungry.
I dry myself off, put my robe on, and stick a poker into the burning logs. The room has definitely warmed up, and I open a window a crack to let in some cool air. Snow and her babies have moved to my sofa and gone back to sleep. I pull out a treat for Godfrey before I sit for a while in my chair and watch the fire burn down, then put it out safely, under the cat’s careful watch.
Sirius and I head to bed. I’m just about to fall asleep, when my phone rings.
“Mom and Dad are home and settled,” Quinn tells me. “I know it’s a terrible time to call, but I just wanted to thank you again. If it weren’t for you…”
His voice trails off, choked with emotion.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad there was something I could do to help.”
“Your magick is a lot stronger than when I left,” he says. “Tonight…if you hadn’t put that fire out…well, you saved the farm, the business. The Christmas trees make up over forty percent of the overall sales every year. Even though we lost a couple rows, it could’ve been a lot worse. If it had spread to the other lots? To the house? I don’t even want to think about it.”
“My magick is a lot stronger. I’m a lot stronger. Give your mom and dad a hug for me, okay?”
“I will. There’s something else.”
I sit up, no longer as tired. “What?”
“The cameras caught something. Something I can’t explain.”
A buzzing starts in the back of my head. “Oh?”
I’m hoping he’s going to say one of Watson’s goons set the fire or doing something else they shouldn’t have. What he says instead makes my stomach fall.
“I was hoping in the morning, I could show you the recording. I think it’s something supernatural.”
Merlin’s beard. “Supernatural?” My voice squeaks, knowing it’s not Watson or her ninja buddies.
“Yeah.” I hear the weariness in his voice, and maybe a hint of fear. “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, a skeleton rose from the back lot.”
16
The next morning, the air has a tang to it when Sirius and I take off. The lingering smell of burning wood dampens the air.
I contemplate skipping the exercise, considering everything we have to do for Samhain, and how full my brain is. I barely slept after Quinn’s call, and I’m running on empty at this point.
We’re hosting a Halloween event for the citywide Fall Festival this evening, and at some point, the four of us are going with Dad to the woods to pay our respects to Mom. We’ll be bringing offerings and using our magick to recharge the pentagram and the ley lines that run through the property.
At midnight, we’ll honor her again at our private dinner.
Since the veil between worlds is thinnest on Samhain, Winter’s hoping to connect to her spirit. So far, she’s not been able to communicate with her, and although Mom appeared to Spring at Beltane, we’re not sure how she did it.
I have to visit Quinn anyway to view the video footage from last night, so Sirius and I take off. Luckily, the slap, slap, slap of my shoes on the path helps drain tension. As Sirius and I come into view of Harrington Farms, I see Quinn, coffee in hand, waiting for us.
He didn’t sleep either by the look on his face. He greets me with a solemn nod and unlatches the gate after handing me a cup. “Mom would like to see you.”
“How is she?” I ask, as we follow him to the house.
“Tried, worried.”
Inside, his mother greets me with a smile. Mrs. Harrington looks like she’s aged ten years in the last few days, but she’s as sweet as ever, offering me toast and jam.
I’m not sure how much Quinn has told her about us, and I doubt he’s shared the full story about how I put out the fire, but she thanks me for my help before disappearing upstairs to take his dad a tray of breakfast.
Quinn and I sit at the small kitchen table, Sirius lying at my feet. The dog smells the bacon on the counter, but I’m proud of him for keeping his nose out of it.
Quinn opens a laptop, clicks a few buttons, and the video begins to play.
It’s not the entire recording of what happened, but a small section toward the end, where the smoke is just beginning to move away from the trees and toward the house. As I watch, the breeze shifts, and sure enough, there’s a skeletal hand clawing out of the ground. I don’t need to watch the rest, having seen it in person.
“Please tell me you have an explanation,” Quinn says quietly. “Tell me it’s not real.”
“I wish I could,” I say. “I think I might’ve done…”—I wave a finger at the frozen screen—“that.”
He looks a little surprised. “You?”
“I used Spring’s earth magick. It helped me poke holes in the ground so water from the hot spring vein that runs under your land could come up. I believe this somehow triggered the skeletons to rise.”
He points at the image and echoes his disbelief. “You did that?”
“Not intentionally,” I clarify. “It seems my magick might have backfired. A little.” I hold my index and thumb close together.
He sips coffee and sets down the cup. “I think it might be more than a little.”
Good thing he doesn’t realize I raised four oth
ers as well. “You haven’t seen it walking in the area, right?”
“No.” He looks slightly horrified. “You think it’s hanging around?”
“They—I mean it—disappeared into the tree line. I’m not sure where it went.”
He sits back in his chair, his serious eyes starring me down. “There’s more than one?”
I bite my bottom lip. “There’s actually five.”
His face shows shock. “Do you think they’ll return?”
“This is completely out of my wheelhouse. I have no idea. My family and I are working on it, though, so try not to worry. You just need to focus on taking care of your parents.”
He sits forward and takes my hands. “Tell me these things aren’t dangerous. I don’t want you going after them.”
Always the protector. “I wish I could, but I don’t know. My sisters and I will be very careful, and remember, we are extremely powerful witches. We’ll find a way to take care of them.”
I almost elaborate, telling him about the demon imprisoned in the woods, but that seems like more than he needs to know at this moment. I don’t want to witness his head exploding.
He doesn’t believe me on some level. I see it in his eyes. He’s still extremely worried the skeletons might present danger that I won’t be able to handle.
I pat the top of one of his hands. “I can protect myself and defend my family. I may not be a military guy like you, but I have skills you can’t even dream of, flyboy.”
Releasing his hold on me, he raises his cup in a salute. “I think it’s time to put those skills to work, but I have to remind you there are people looking for those exact powers. I’ve never doubted your strength, Autumn, with or without your magical abilities. I just have this tendency to worry about the people I love.”
Love? I don’t know how to respond. “I can’t hide from the PNR forever, and I worry about those I love too.”
His expression softens. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” He leans forward and switches the screen to show me something that looks like a redacted CIA file. There’s a bunch of different paragraphs with certain sentences blacked out.
Of Stars and Spells Page 10
