My lips press into a thin line, and I nod. She already knows these questions have lingered in my mind. I’ve even voiced them to her.
“I have lived in the world of the supernatural far longer than you realize. Far longer than you can perhaps comprehend,” she says, dropping her gaze again to the floor.
Alarm bells go off inside my head and I can’t help but push the stool back and stand up. “What do you mean?”
Her sorrowful hazel eyes meet mine and her eyebrows upturn in the middle. She holds her breath and releases it, as if the breath itself was a heavy burden to carry. “Autumn, in times past, before supernatural beings were accepted the way they are, we were often considered to be gods. Particularly those of us who defy the traditional roles of death.”
My brain seizes up and it’s my turn to be flustered. I take another step back from the bar. “Us?”
Wade scoots his own stool back, standing up and preparing to get between us, if need be. His silver eyes dart between us, as if trying to decide who will make the first move.
“Yes, us,” she says, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. In another life, I was so excited to show you the beauty in our powers. But…”
“Us?” I repeat, my hands flying to my hair as I pull at the red strands. This can’t be happening. There’s no way my mom is a supernatural being. No possible way. I drop my hands, twisting back to her and demand, “If you have powers, what are they? What are you? Prove it.”
“I have many powers. They’ve developed through the ages,” she whispers.
I close my eyes, trying to process her words. Ages?
“Are you saying you’re one of the old gods?” Wade asks, somehow managing to break the chaos clouding my mind and asking a question buried in my thoughts.
My head snaps up just in time to see her flinch.
“No…” I say, raising my hands and backing away. “No. Just, no. You can’t be. I’ve lived with you my whole life. You like your sleep. You hate to argue. You eat eggs, drink protein shakes, and work out. You do Pilates, for crying out loud. You can’t—”
Looking up from beneath her eyebrows, she says, “I’ve gone by many names in my lifetime. But the one that stuck in the pages of history is Hecate. I can’t say it’s my favorite.”
My mouth drops open and my mind goes completely blank. It’s like the entire world I live in, everything about it, has been nothing but one big, fat lie.
For the first time, Mom walks around the counter that was separating us. Wade takes a protective step forward, but the look on my mother’s face makes him step back.
“Autumn, you have to know, there are so many times I wanted to tell you. To explain why you had certain gifts for things, like accidentally resurrecting the neighbor’s cat when you were nine and bringing birds who hit the window back to life. Instead, I had to pretend to ignore them—write them off as completely normal occurrences. It’s gone against every instinct I have to keep silent, but I had to protect you. That’s been my priority since—”
“Gifts? Ignore them? I don’t remember any of that. Until I went to live at Dad’s, I didn’t even know I had supernatural gifts,” I sputter.
Mom shakes her head, placing her hands on my shoulders. “That’s not true.”
“Then why don’t I remember?” I fire back.
“Because I made sure you didn’t,” she whispers, locking eyes with me. “Your memories around those events needed to be a blank slate or the Moirai would sense your growing power; your connection to the forces of life and death. They’d know you were still alive and they’d look for a way to take you from me.”
“But they’re Fate,” Wade sputters. “They create the fabric of reality for every single life. Wouldn’t her thread tell them she’s still alive? Hell, the fact that she is alive—wouldn’t that technically be their doing?”
“I don’t know,” Mom whispers, shooting a sideways glance toward Wade.
An absurd laugh bursts from my chest. “You don’t know? You’re a friggin’ goddess and you don’t know?”
Mom makes a face as she turns to me. “First of all, I’m no different from you or any other supernatural being. I just live longer. That’s all. Secondly, what I do know is that the signs—the red threads—they stopped appearing when you vanished. They didn’t start back up when you reappeared, either. What you did, resurrecting yourself, it should have been impossible. So we figured perhaps the Moirai didn’t know you’d returned. We took that chance and it worked well for us while we searched for answers.”
Wade’s eyes are wide as he looks between the two of us.
“If you’ve been wiping my memory anyway, why did we have to leave? Why did you take us from Dad? Ugh, none of this makes sense,” I say, slamming my hand on the table in frustration.
“The manor is at the center of a vortex. Its energy draws in the supernatural, but also opens the veil between the dead and the living. Keeping you there—it was too obvious. They’d find you, even if I kept your memory clean,” she says, breathing heavy as she fights back tears. “God, Autumn. I wanted to stay there. You have no idea how much I wanted to stay.”
“Then why didn’t Dad come with us? You could have protected—”
“He was the cursed one, just like you. Only, he didn’t have the luxury you did,” Mom says, cutting me off.
“Luxury? You call dying a luxury?” I spit.
“Call it what you will, then. Loophole. Whatever. Your father knew the only way to stop the Moirai was to find a way to break the curse. So, that’s what we did. Both of us have spent the better part of a decade hunting for information. Searching the ends of reality for a way to stop whatever fate may come our way. Clearly, it wasn’t enough,” she whispers. Tears tumble from her cheeks and she turns away from me, wiping at her face.
“Autumn’s dad left her a small decorative box in the will. The executor didn’t seem to know what it was, just that she was meant to have it. Do you know what it’s for?” Wade asks, obviously thinking more clearly than either of us.
Mom turns back, her face full of confusion. “A box? No. What does it look like?”
“I can go grab it. We brought it with us,” Wade offers, making his way to the front door.
The two of us stand in silence, staring at each other as if it’s the first time we’ve really ever seen one another for who we are. Maybe it is.
After a moment, Wade comes back in, carrying a backpack and pulling two suitcases. He leaves the suitcases beside the stairs, but makes his way back to us with the backpack over his shoulder. When he reaches the table, he shrugs it off and opens it wide.
“Here, Autumn,” he says, handing the box to me.
I clutch the wooden artifact close, pressing my fingertips against the rounded edges of the carvings. When I look up into Mom’s curious face, I extend my arms and place the box in her hands.
She looks at it closely, twisting and turning the box from one way to the next, until she’s looked the whole thing over. “I’ve never seen this before, but it’s incredibly powerful. The sigils on here alone…”
“That’s what Abigail said,” I mutter, fighting the urge to be sick. The nausea and anxiety swirl from my stomach, up to my throat, making me feel both dizzy and queasy at the same time. “That it was powerful.”
Her eyes dart up to meet mine. “You speak to Abigail?”
I nod, refusing to go into more details with her right now. “What are the sigils?”
She blinks away her surprise, returning her gaze to the box. “See here?” Tipping the box so I can look at the corners, she taps her finger on one particular symbol. Enclosed in a circle, it looks like a model of the solar system in stick-figure form. “This one is a sigil for protection. But what it’s protecting, I’m not sure.”
Apprehension and fear consume my thoughts, and I can’t help but worry about the reasons behind willing the box to me.
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” I blurt out, looking at it with fresh wariness.
Inhaling deeply, I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick again. The information coming at me is too much and I need to find a way to control my anxiety in peace.
“You know, I’m not feeling…” I begin, trying to breathe through a new wave of nausea. “I think I need a few minutes to clear my head.” Without waiting for either of them to respond, I make my way from the kitchen, walking down the hallway toward the bathroom.
I press my right hand along the wall, trying to keep myself upright as I close the door behind me. Looking in the mirror, I’m horrified at my complexion. My skin is waxy, and my eyes have lost their usual luster.
Before I can admonish myself any further, I run over to the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach. When it’s all over and I’m dry-heaving, I lean back, resting my head against the cool wall. My eyes drift to the nearly empty toilet roll and out of reflex, I reach forward, opening the cupboard under the sink. I grab the toilet paper, but my eyes rest on the feminine hygiene products sitting beside it. They were mine from before I moved—remnants of my time here.
I wipe the side of my mouth, my hand sliding from there to my abdomen. I don’t remember the last time I had my period. Things have been an intense blur these past few weeks, but the last time I remember dealing with it was just after Halloween. Surely, I should have had it by now?
My mom’s question from earlier comes flooding back and a fresh wave of nausea makes me return to the toilet bowl and heave.
This can’t be happening… Not now, not with everything going on.
I can’t be…pregnant. Can I?
Chapter 9
Out in the Open
I don’t even know why I tried to sleep.
It’s almost laughable, if I wasn’t on the verge of breaking down completely. My entire world is splitting apart and even if I found solid ground, there’s no guarantee it would hold.
No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of being pregnant. And even when I do manage to drift for a split second, or lapse on this new obsession, my thoughts snap right back to my mom.
How in the hell could she be a supernatural? And not just any supernatural, either—one that’s been around so long she was considered a goddess before we understood that some people were…different.
What does that mean? What powers does she truly have? We barely had time to get into it, but I don’t think I could have taken on any more right now. My whole life—everything I thought I knew about my family, my mom—it was all a lie.
I’m not sure I know how to deal with that.
In fact, I don’t get any of it. If she’s been around as long as she implied, why would she give everything up to pretend she was human? The things she’s seen—the places she’s been. If that were me, I don’t know that I could give it up so easily. Even if I wanted to protect my child.
The concept is just too foreign.
I roll over, trying not to wake up Wade. I haven’t found a way to voice my suspicions about my sickness, and I don’t want to worry him if it’s really just anxiety. Yet, even as I think that, I know better. There’s a strange, horrifying realization settling into the back of my mind—maybe my gut—that tells me I need to be sure.
But if it’s true, it couldn’t be worse timing. The last thing either of us needs is to bring a child into the mix of a family curse brought on by the Fates.
My heartbeat quickens and I have to take slow deliberate breaths to settle my shallow, rapid inhalations.
If I am pregnant, what will happen to the child? Wade might be expelled from the Angel of Death legacy, but would his child? Would it skip his generation and simply fall onto our offspring? And if so—what would that mean to the Moirai? Would that connection protect him or her? Or would they still claim that child as a Blackwood? If they did end our child’s life, would that mean the human life has been forfeit but the baby still gets to ascend as an angel? Or would both of our bloodlines die out?
The possibilities make my stomach roll and I fight the urge to sit up in bed or race to the bathroom. I spend the next few hours, drifting in and out of an uncomfortable, restless sleep.
By the time morning comes, I barely feel as though I’ve fallen asleep at all. My mind is instantly on the possible pregnancy and the need to know for sure. For whatever reason, it feels like the one thing in this whole crazy, mixed-up life I can control. Even if that control is only an illusion.
“I think I’m going to take a walk, if that’s okay,” I announce as I bring my breakfast plate to the sink. If I can get out, I can walk down to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test.
Both Wade and my mom look up at me as if I’ve managed to grow horns on the top of my head.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Well, it’s just—you haven’t said two words this morning,” Wade says, trying to smooth out his face. “It was just an abrupt shift.”
I run my fingertips across my forehead, nodding to myself. “Yeah, sorry. Just in my head a bit. Lots to mull over, you know? That’s why I thought a walk might do me some good.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Wade asks, getting up from his seat.
I shake my head, reaching out for him. “No, stay. Sit. It’s okay. I need a few minutes.”
His expression turns doubtful. “Do you really think you should be out on the streets alone? I mean, after what happened last night with the woman…”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. Of all the things circling my brain at this particular moment, the woman and her connection to the Moirai were pushed further to the recesses of my mind. Which is bizarre in its own way, since the Moirai have been the only thing on my mind for weeks.
“I’ll go with her. I think we need a little time to talk,” Mom says, shifting back her chair and standing up. “Wade, would you mind taking a look at the television? It hasn’t connected to the Blu-ray player in ages and I’d love to bust out our stash of Christmas films tonight. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition in this house.”
Wade shifts his gaze from my mom back to me, a silent question lingering in his eyes.
Nodding my head, I say, “It’s okay. She’s right, we have a lot to talk about. Besides, I’d be useless with the Blu-ray thing.” I shoot him a smile, but I’m not certain it was very convincing.
His eyes narrow as he stands up and rests his hands on my arms. Looking deep into my eyes, he finally says, “Take your phone and if anything strange happens—”
I step forward, placing a kiss on his lips. “You’ll be the first I call.”
He watches me for a moment, but finally nods and turns to my mom. “All right, Andrea. Would you mind showing me this Blu-ray player you speak of?”
The two of them wander into the living room as she shows him the outdated electronic equipment. With the exception of watching Buffy reruns when I was younger, neither of us really spent much time watching television. It’s no wonder the thing isn’t working right.
After fifteen minutes of explanation and discussion, Wade is on the floor following cables and Mom walks over to me.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod, reaching to grab my coat from the rack. She does the same and shrugs into it.
“We’ll be back soon,” I call out, putting my coat on. “Promise.”
Wade stands up and brushes off his knees. In four huge strides he stands in front of me. Without a word, he places his hands on either side of my face and bends forward. His lips press down on mine, making my skin tingle and my cheeks flush.
“You better,” he whispers, as he takes a step.
Mom turns away, reaching for the door handle and trying to pretend she didn’t witness any of that.
I grin, standing up on my toes and brushing my lips one last time against his.
Without another word, Mom opens the door and we walk out into the bluster
y cold. Large snowflakes drift through the air, blanketing the ground as they sparkle in the sunlight trying to peek through in places. I zip my coat up to my chin and shove my hands into my pockets.
We walk down the sidewalk in silence, just watching the snow fall.
After a few minutes, Mom turns to me and says, “Autumn, there were so many times I wanted to tell you everything. I miss how things were with us before.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Before?”
She nods. “Before your accident. Everything was out in the open. You were in training with your dad. Abigail was there, too. Though your dad couldn’t be certain. You talked about a woman being there.”
I face my gaze forward, concentrating on the snow-covered sidewalk. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. The memories, they may come back. I just don’t know for sure.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, biting the side of my lip.
She tips her chin in acknowledgment. “I suppose you’re right.”
“So, Hecate, huh?” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t remember all the details about the mythologies. Had I known, I would have paid closer attention.”
Mom chuckles. “Mythologies don’t always get things right.”
“But you’re immortal?” I say, shooting her a sideways glance.
Her forehead creases and she shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. The longer I’ve been around, the more I notice signs of aging.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m finally getting gray hair?” she laughs. “Pretty sure that’s all you.”
I roll my eyes and she nudges me with her shoulder.
My head still can’t wrap around the idea of my mother being so old. Or supernatural.
“If you’re immor—really, really old,” I say, narrowing my gaze and smirking at her, “could I have inherited that gene? Would that explain how I didn’t drown? Maybe that’s what really happened. Maybe I didn’t resurrect myself at all?”
Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 6
