The sclera and irises were as black as the pupil, as black as the void. Cold eyes. Demon eyes.
He pulled his knees to his chest, bone-thin arms wrapped around himself. About him, the darkness began to widen and grow. They were shadows, gliding along the floor. When they reached him, they circled him, leaving the demon enshrouded in their void. Andy could still make out his torso and his face, but the rest stayed within black nothingness.
“Where—?” The question came out in a high, strangled voice. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. The depths within his eyes were endless. “Where am I?” The hint of some indiscernible accent rounded his words.
No one said anything and the silence of the room turned eerie, unnatural. No one so much as exhaled, much less dared to speak. Andy licked her lips and cast her gaze to Mason. Her godfather stood tall. His face, as usual, remained stoic but Andy thought she caught the wariness flicker in his eyes.
Andy inched forward another cautious step. “A church,” she answered. Her voice, though soft, shattered the quiet like a hammer through a pane of glass.
“Church.” A bark of laughter jumped out of him. “Church. Holy ground. It would be holy ground. Yes. Yes, I… remember.” His teeth snagged his cracked bottom lip. “But… Earth? Is this Earth?”
Earth? Where had he come from? The depths of hell? This wasn’t a demon who’d been summoned from the other side of the globe. This was a demon summoned from another plane. Another world.
She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
The demon stood. His footsteps were slow and unsteady, but he moved out of the broken circle and edged toward her. Andy stood her ground. The shadows at his feet moved with an unnatural grace that didn’t match his shaky movements. His magic buzzed.
“Andy, stand back.”
“Mason, no. Don’t. He’s just—”
A sharp laugh cut her off. The demon’s face split into a grin. The shadows lashed out like whips and snapped around her arms. Their ice-cold grip burned. They pushed her with force and Andy stumbled back. Casey cried out. Mason shouted.
By the time Andy righted herself, the demon and his inky shadows had vanished. She caught her breath but couldn’t shake off the horrible feeling in the bottom of her stomach. The demon had fled with the darkness. It hadn’t swallowed them up after all. Andy clenched her jaw. The pain settled into her chest and lodged itself in her heart.
“Andy…” Casey’s voice broke. “Andy, help me. Please! He won’t—I can’t—” Patrick’s eyes were open, lifeless. The revenant was gone and so was the demon.
Finding him would have to wait.
Vinnie
The last ward. Vinnie ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the crystal. Her mother had prepared this one and it vibrated with her comforting energy. She placed it carefully in the potted plant just inside the front door. She reconsidered it a second, then took some of the moist soil and half covered the quartz. The dirt had energy too, and the more to fuel this spell, the better.
Their work finished, Vinnie wiped her hands on her jeans and stepped back. The Kindheart Coven house was safe now. Nothing would get in or out—
Something buzzed and the air fizzled. With a loud noise, the crystal cracked in two. Vinnie’s eyes went wide and she jumped back. “What the—?”
Four figures joined her in the foyer, pulled from thin air. Mason, sodden and dripping water all over the hardwood, staggered forward. Behind him stood Andy, with blood on her face from a head wound, and a wide-eyed Casey. At their feet lay the revenant. Dead.
“What—?” Stunned, Vinnie could only stare at them all. Her question never made it past her lips.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Casey said in a thick voice. She doubled over, retching, but nothing came up.
“Teleportation. A side effect,” Andy said, somewhat breathlessly. Her eyes searched the room. Dust came loose from her hair when she turned her head. “Should’ve warned you.”
Mason searched the foyer and settled his fierce gaze on Vinnie. “Your mother. Where is she?”
“She’s in the kitchen. What happened? Is he—?” She looked to Casey and the body barely a foot away.
“He’s dead.” Andy wiped at her face, grimacing at the blood that came away on her hand. “They’re gone—the ones controlling him. They did what they wanted to do and they left. There’s nothing more to him.”
Casey straightened. Tears further smudged the dark make-up around her eyes, making her look more haunted and lost. “He was there,” she murmured, “at the end. I looked into his eyes and I saw him.”
The dining room door swung open and Mara walked out with a basin in hand. Two washcloths floated in the water. Neoma followed close on her heels, beautiful face wan and tired. “Andy, sit down,” their mother insisted. “The wound needs tending. Vinnie, here.” She gestured at the basin.
Gods, she must’ve seen it coming from far off. Mara came prepared without the slightest bit of trepidation. Vinnie envied that. She stepped forward, uncertainly.
“The cloth, sweetie. For her.” Mara nodded to Casey.
Vinnie wrung out the warm, wet rag before Mara moved away, stockinged feet making no noise on the hardwood. She handed Andy a vial and gestured to the chair. “Go,” she urged again. “Sit.” She cut her eyes to Mason, confusion furrowing her brow. “Why are you wet?”
“All your visions and you didn’t see that?” Andy mused, following her mother’s orders and taking a seat. Her brow furrowed too as she briefly glanced at Mason. “Why are you wet?”
“The Atlantic.” Mason ran a hand through his wet hair.
“The ocean?” Vinnie asked. Come to think of it, she did smell the unmistakable odor of saltwater brine in the air.
“Now there’s a story.” Mara wrung out the cloth and passed it to Andy, eyeing the cut. “A lot of stories, I expect. We’ll hear them all in time.”
Vinnie hovered nearby, the soaked cloth heavy in hand. Hearing Casey sniffle nearby, she turned to her. “Here.” She passed the cloth to her. “How do you feel?”
Casey seemed uncertain at first, but unfolded it and wiped her mouth. “Like shit. How else am I supposed to feel?”
“C’mon,” Vinnie said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shrug it off or push her away. She stood and wiped at her face again, offering no resistance.
“He died. He was—He was always dead. I know that. But now he’s—” Casey cut herself off and looked away.
They had known this would be how it ended, with Patrick dead. It was one thing to talk about it, to speculate, but another entirely to see him truly lifeless on the floor. The grief, the potent tension, the shock had to overwhelm Casey. Vinnie wanted to hug her, hold her, take away all the pain, but all she could do was draw her away, and not even that very well.
“Here.” Neoma stood over them, her hand open. Another vial rested in her palm. She pushed it toward Casey. “Take it.”
“No, I don’t want your stupid potion,” she snapped.
Neoma flinched as if visibly struck but she composed herself. In an instant, the anger and grief melted away from Casey. Her shoulders relaxed when she exhaled. Her eyes were clear as she looked questioningly to Neoma. “What—? What did you do?”
“I didn’t take it away if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I didn’t ask you for anything.”
“Neoma…” Vinnie slipped her hand into the empath’s and took the vial. “It’s okay.” For a second, she held her eyes, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. She’d take it from there. With a nod, Neoma stepped away.
Casey’s lower lip quivered. “I always knew he was dead and now—” But again she stopped and looked at the cloth in her hand.
It made Vinnie’s heart hurt to witness it. She chewed her lip. “Take this,” she said quietly. She held the potion out to her.
She hesitated but finally took the tiny vial. “What does it do?”
“It’s a calming thing
. Makes you sleepy. So you can uh—” What? Pass out? Heal? Leave the grief for the morning? That might be the best thing for her, now that Vinnie thought of it. “So you can rest.”
Casey uncapped it, took a sniff, and wrinkled her nose. She downed it like a man shoots back whiskey and immediately made a face. “Oh, God. That’s horrible shit.”
“Horrible, but effective,” Neoma said. “With my influence and the potion, you’ll be able to rest.”
Wordlessly, Casey deflated. She sank down, sitting on the floor in the middle of the foyer. She fell into silence, her eyes focused on Patrick’s body. Had the potion kicked in already, or had she simply accepted everything? Vinnie didn’t know and she could do nothing more than offer support. She knelt next to her, hand on her back.
“Mom, I’m fine. The potion’s working. Just stop.” Andy drew her head back from her mother’s nursing. The cut, now clean, revealed itself as little more than a gash, already on the mend. She turned her face up at Mason. “We need to find him.”
“Find who?” Neoma asked.
“A demon.” Mason plucked at his sodden shirt a few times. The cloth began to dry. Within minutes, he no longer looked like a drowned rat.
“Another one?” Mara questioned. She dropped the rag into the basin with a soft plop. She stood, kind eyes searching his face. “I never saw that. Only your arrival.”
“The revenant fought,” Mason began. “There was a summoning circle, with the girl trapped inside and sacrifice imminent. They sought to remove me by banishing me to the ocean.” He scoffed at that, but his derision faded a second later. “The circle was the source of the power, yes, of the other demon summonings, but the one they raised this time—”
“He’s not like the others. Or Others,” Andy said, her eyes focused ahead of her. Vinnie thought she was looking at her, but her sister’s eyes went through her and beyond.
“What? What do you mean?” Vinnie asked.
Andy shook her head, unable—or unwilling—to answer.
“He is not like the ones who were summoned before,” Mason continued for her. He is not bestial—not an animal. He appeared as a man, emaciated, with a strong power signature. And old. Dangerous. Shadows bent to his will.” He paused. “Andy’s blood summoned him.”
No one said a word. No one even breathed. The silence thickened until all Vinnie could hear was the thump-thump of her heart loud in her ears. Andy’s blood? A demon summoning? Had she slipped and turned to the dark ways again?
“What?” Neoma asked. “How?”
“Accidentally. Or maybe not so accidentally.” Bitterness dripped from Andy’s tone. “A trick, I suspect.”
A trick? Vinnie’s mouth dropped open but the question never made it out.
“Her wound,” Mason said, in a stern voice that brokered no argument and no more explanations. “It bled upon the circle.”
“Well, shit.” Mara’s words came out with a harsh, humorless laugh.
“We must find him. Track him. We do not know his nature or why the coven summoned him but we must intercept him before—”
“We won’t.” Andy’s calm voice broke through.
“You’ve seen it?” Mara regarded her curiously.
Blinking a few times, Andy came back to herself and turned to their mother. “Yes,” she said quietly. “We won’t find him. Not tonight. The Hallowed Circle…” She trailed off, moistened her lips. Neoma sat beside her and took her hand, squeezed it. Bolstered by her presence, Andy took another breath. “The Hallowed Circle won’t find him either. They brought him forth but they won’t be able to claim him.” She slumped back into her chair. “I—I don’t know how else to explain it, what I saw.”
Beside her, Casey shifted and put her head against Vinnie’s shoulder. Unsure what else to do, she hesitated a few seconds before she put an arm around the blonde.
“What do you mean they won’t be able to claim him?” Mara asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think they can control him. they summoned him but they can’t hold him. No one can.”
“Of course.” Mason sighed resignedly. “The amount of power used to call him, the blood” —He cut his eyes to Andy— “controlling him may prove to be impossible.”
And then it hit her. Vinnie’s eyes widened. “What if—”
“—they don’t intend to control him at all. they just want to unleash a powerful force to wreak havoc on the world,” Neoma finished.
“No,” Mason said sharply. “they would never call something forth if they did not intend to exert some control. It is what they do. Their M.O., as it were. They will want him.”
“But they won’t get him.”
Vinnie’s stomach hurt. This wasn’t the gut feeling, not by a long shot, but fear that knotted her intestines. Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed it back down. “What—what do we do?”
“We need to call Wren at the London house.” Mason faced Mara. “We will warn them to be wary, alert them to the demon. And then we will begin our search. We will find him. We will keep an eye on him.” When he sighed, he sounded weary. “That may be all we can do.”
“Yes.” Mara stepped back. “Of course we should and we will. There’s much to do, much to discuss.” She glanced toward the corpse. “Much to grieve.”
Casey took in a ragged breath, squeezed her eyes tighter.
“But first—rest. We rest. We awake to a new day.” Mara smiled gently. “We take what’s thrown at us and we overcome and we carry on. It’s what we do.”
“You’re just a fount of positivity, ain’t ya?” Andy said. She groaned as she pulled herself to stand with Neoma’s aid. “I’m not quite so optimistic, but you’re right about one thing—We do carry on. It’s the Foster way.”
“The witch way,” Vinnie whispered.
“The witch way. Yes,” Mara repeated, her smile growing.
Vinnie moved to her feet. Reluctantly, Casey pulled herself up too. “What—what do we do about him?” she heard her say. “About my dad?”
“I will take care of him,” Mason assured her. His voice lacked the usual coolness. “I will prepare the body for burial—”
“No.” Casey shook her head. “No burial. Cremation. That’s—that’s what he wanted. That’s—that’s—”
He silenced her with a raised hand. “Then that is what I shall do.”
Casey nodded, swallowing. She pressed her fingers against the inside of Vinnie’s wrist.
The contact, though faint, set her heart racing. She turned her hand to catch Casey’s fingers. They slipped between hers and Casey squeezed. Hard. It might not have been much, but to Casey, it might have been everything.
“Tomorrow,” Vinnie whispered. Andy and Neoma walked up the stairs. Mara stood close to Mason with her hand against his arm, their voices quiet and eyes sad as they regarded the body.
“What’s tomorrow?” Casey asked softly. She squeezed her hand again. It hurt, but Vinnie didn’t let go. She held on.
“I don’t know, but we’ll face it together.”
Casey
One Week Later, Saturday
The air in the room had gone stale. Casey first noticed it when she’d crawled her way from beneath the blankets to go to the bathroom. Then she realized the smell came from herself. When had she last showered? Or the last time she left the room at all? A day? A week? Maybe longer.
She’d slept much of that time. When she didn’t sleep, she stayed in bed and watched television. Sometimes, she beat the holy hell out of her pillows. Most of the time, she cried.
Everyone processed in their own way. Mara told her that but Casey dismissed her words. She didn’t want sympathy. She didn’t want people coddling her, pitying her, or telling her how to deal. She didn’t want them trying to take away her pain with potions and magic. But they were.
And she hated it.
Fuck them. Fuck them all.
Well… not all of them.
The comings and goings of the Kindheart Coven went largely unnoticed.
She didn’t care. Andy came and tried to engage her in conversation. She brought meals and drinks and tried to lure her out with her favorites. But Code Red Mountain Dew and Hostess cupcakes didn’t do it. Casey didn’t even crawl out from the blankets to devour them.
Mara and Neoma came sometimes too. They never stayed long and never forced her to talk back to them. Once, Mara brought clean clothes. Casey found them on the chair when she woke up one morning.
Vinnie though… Vinnie wasn’t like that. She didn’t offer the usual sympathies as Mara did. She didn’t simply leave food as peace offerings or give endless apologies like Andy. While Vinnie did bring snacks, she brought something else—something Casey couldn’t define. Company. Friendship.
Casey found herself opening up to her. She poured out her heart. She cried. She screamed. She let it all out and only felt marginally better, but anything was better than nothing at all. She had Vinnie to thank for that.
And Vinnie had been right yesterday. Casey had spent too long cooped up. Time to get out from under the covers and face the rest of her life. Her dad wouldn’t have wanted her to mope either. Suck it up and do it, do the work that needs done.
And there was no shortage of work to do.
She cut her eyes to the dresser. The cremation box wasn’t an ornate thing. Mason had gone with something simple—walnut wood with her father’s name carved on the outside. On the lid was a symbol. For peace, he said. Casey could only hope her father truly was at peace now.
If only she could be.
Casey slid out of the bed and made her way to the shuttered window. When she drew open the blinds, she winced at the new light. Though it was still cool for late spring, the sunshine warmed her. She pulled the window open and let the chilled air circulate through the room. She breathed in the scent of flowers and herbs growing in the communal garden out back. No one tended it at this hour, but the blooms were pretty. They made her think of Vinnie. She looked at them for a few minutes before pulling back.
The light helped clear the oppressiveness of the room, but not entirely. It may never clear.
Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles Page 16
