Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles

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Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles Page 17

by F. R. Southerland


  The water ran hot in the shower and in no time a dense fog filled the bathroom. For a long while, Casey stood beneath the water spray, letting it wash away the roughness of the last week.

  Despite wanting a clear mind, her thoughts wouldn’t stop. Her father had slipped away as she knelt there with him, but he’d been dead long before that. She would never know how he became a revenant, how it all had happened. He’d given her one last smile and said her name, and that was it.

  It was so easy to pretend the water on her face came from the shower head and not her hot tears. Quickly, she scrubbed a hand over her face and shut off the tap. No. No more crying. She was done with that shit.

  She had to figure out what to do. Stay in town and help the witches hunt down the elusive demon? Or should she leave? What was left for her here? A dead father and witches capable of handling a demon themselves. They didn’t need her. And it wasn’t as if she mattered as a hunter anyway. Time to move on.

  Vinnie’s face popped into her thoughts again, but Casey pushed her away once more.

  The more she reasoned, the more sense it made. She’d known she’d have to leave. Why not now? By the time she showered, dried, and dressed, she’d made up her mind. She’d pack up her trusty ol’ backpack and hit the road.

  Casey swept her still wet hair back from her face and wound it into a high ponytail. She worked quickly, stuffing everything she owned into the bottom of her bag—everything except for her father’s journal. She didn’t know where it was and she couldn’t ask for it back, not if she wanted to leave unseen. She had to let it go. Dammit. Leaving it behind hurt but she had to do what she had to do.

  Again, she glanced at the dresser and the box resting on it. She took a deep breath and hurried to it. It felt heavier than it should’ve been, weighted down with something more than ashes. Only her imagination. Grief, she knew, was a heavy thing

  She’d only finished packing it atop her clothes when the door opened and startled her.

  The redhead peeked around the door, a warm but tentative smile on her lips. A plastic bag crinkled in Vinnie’s hand. “Hey. You’re up.” She sounded surprised, but pleased. “I thought you’d still be asleep. It’s barely past noon.” Her gaze dropped to the bed and Casey’s backpack. Her smile faded. “Are you—are you leaving?”

  Guilt stabbed Casey just beneath her breast. “Yep.” She tried to sound nonchalant about it like it wasn’t a big deal, like it didn’t bother her one bit. She tossed a pair of socks on top of the cremation box and stuffed them down as far as she could. “Figured it was time to move on, ya know?”

  The door closed softly behind Vinnie. She shifted the bag to the floor, the soda cans inside it clanking together when it touched the floor. “Oh.”

  Shit. How could one little word have so much disappointment in it? Casey kept her eyes on the bag. Her heart hurt and her eyes stung. No. Fuck, no. She would not cry again. She blinked rapidly as she forcefully pulled the zipper closed. She wouldn’t look at Vinnie until she knew her tears wouldn’t fall. “Yeah. So, I’m leaving.”

  “Right—right now?”

  “As soon as I’m done packing—which, I guess is now. Yeah.” She tried a small laugh but it came out forced and wrong. Heat flooded her face. She looked up, finally.

  Pink rose high in Vinnie’s cheeks. “Are—are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I mean, why not? You guys don’t need me. And I don’t need y’all to help find my dad any more.” She shook her head, a thin smile formed on her lips. “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna take the first bus out of here. As soon as I get my hands on a bus schedule and some cash.”

  “But we—” Vinnie cut herself off. More color rushed to her cheeks. “You can’t go. I mean—I mean you shouldn’t go.”

  “I can’t stay. It’s—it ain’t a good idea.” There were so many excuses she could give, so many misdirections and lies. But when she looked at Vinnie’s face and saw the pink in her cheeks, all the things she wanted to say failed her. “It ain’t about the place. And it ain’t even about being needed here either.” Honestly, she didn’t know what it was about. Everything, probably. Oh God, everything. Heat formed behind her eyes. Her throat went tight.

  Oh shit. Here it comes. The first hot tears ran down her cheeks. Her mouth moved up and down, but no words came out.

  It was everything. It was her mother’s death weeks after Casey’s fifth birthday. It was endless nights in smelly motel rooms and boredom and shitty cable TV and congealed cheese on days-old pizza. It was a new school district every year and old sneakers with holes and never having friends. It was Patrick drinking his days away and ignoring her and broken promises and worry. It was hitchhiking across the country and searching and four years of loneliness. It was finding him, finally, and watching him die.

  The dam burst before she could stop it and a sob broke free of her throat.

  Vinnie wrapped Casey in her arms. “Shh, shh.” Gently, she drew her back onto the bed. Casey immediately turned away and buried her face into the pillow. She couldn’t be certain how long she cried, but she sobbed until there were no tears left in her. Only then did she pull her head back.

  “Here,” Vinnie said in her soft, soothing voice. She held a box of tissues to her.

  With a sheepish smile, Casey took one and wiped at her snotty nose. “Thanks.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  Her answer came with a scoff. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Truth be told, she wanted to go back to sleep. She didn’t know if that meant she felt better or not but she did have a sense of… lightness. “I think so.”

  “Well, that’s something. Something’s better than nothing.”

  Tempted to scoff again, Casey held back. Picking at her nails, she stared down at her hands. “I've been telling myself that, but it doesn’t make anything better.”

  “Yeah.” Vinnie bit down on her lower lip. “Are you—do you still want to leave?”

  “I… I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything any more.”

  Vinnie said nothing for a minute or so, but then she turned her head slightly. “I’m not either, not really. I’m sure of one thing though.”

  She waited to hear of that one thing, but when Vinnie didn’t continue, Casey lifted her eyes. “What?”

  Vinnie’s eyes shone dazzling blue when they met Casey’s, shimmering all the more with her face red and flushed. “I don’t want you to go.”

  A weird feeling struck her, the sensation buoyant and floaty, like she’d been spinning in a circle for a long while. Like teleportation, with all the lightheadedness but none of the nausea.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think what else to say.

  “Yeah.” Vinnie broke eye contact and blew out a breath. “But, if you have to go, you have to go.”

  “Maybe I don’t.” Casey said it before she thought, words jumping out of her mouth. The more they lingered in the air between them, the more sense they made. “I don’t know, really.” How many more times could she say that?

  “I… I know something that might help,” Vinnie said, a hopeful note in her soft voice. “With staying, or leaving. With the… grief.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “It might sound weird to you but… do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she answered, with no hesitation. And that was the one certainty Casey knew and when Vinnie half-smiled in response, she couldn’t help but half-smile back.

  Vinnie

  Later That Afternoon

  “Are you sure? I don’t wanna mess up your flowers.” Casey eyed the flowerbed with its spray of wildflowers dubiously.

  “You won’t mess them up. I’m here with you and I know everything about growing things. There’s no way you can mess this up.” Vinnie gave an encouraging smile. “Besides, it’s one small patch. It’s all yours. You can do whatever you like to it.”

  It was nothing, really. The Kindheart Coven’s garden had plenty of space. Vinnie had intended to put herbs in this spot, but giving it to Casey seemed a be
tter use. She looked up at the sky when the world darkened around them. A cloud passed over the sun and stayed, leaving them bathed in cool shadows.

  “I don’t know plants, so you’re gonna have to do that stuff.” She looked over, where Vinnie had put trays of various plants and flowers. There were so many of them, Vinnie knew, but it shouldn’t be a hard decision.

  “Oh, I’ll do the planting and the tending. You just pick out which one you want. After all, we’re burying your dad… kind of. Well, I guess not ‘kind of.’” She chewed on her lip as she let her gaze fall on the cremation box. It had been her idea, after all, to do this little memorial. The garden behind the Kindheart Coven seemed the ideal spot. Vinnie knew her magical secret garden might’ve been a candidate too, but it wasn’t nearly as accessible to Casey. After all, she was doing this for her. She wanted her to visit it whenever she wanted. She wanted her to stay.

  “It’ll be nice,” Vinnie went on, “don’t worry.”

  Casey didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. The worry lined her face.

  Vinnie waited a minute, then picked up the trowel. She stabbed it into the soft soil of the flowerbed. “You just have to pick out the flowers you like—or the flowers he would’ve liked, you know.”

  “Right. I know.” Casey pulled the tray close to her. Her fingers lightly touched the colorful blooms. “Gimme a minute.”

  “Take a minute. Take five. I still have to dig.” The hole needed to be big enough for the box and the flowers. Vinnie turned the soil with the trowel, scooping it out to make room for the planting.

  They hadn’t exactly given Patrick a funeral. Mason presented Casey with the box and that had been it. At least, this way, there’d be some kind of closure. She needed that. And by using the coven’s garden, it ensured that Casey would stay, or at least visit. Vinnie hoped for the former. From the corner of her eye, she watched her.

  Casey’s eyes were still red from crying though she didn’t look nearly as tired. That was an improvement, but the far-off look in them remained. Grief would always be there. It didn’t just go away, not even with time. They could ease it, though, with little things. Small gestures. Big gestures.

  Love.

  “This one.”

  Vinnie glanced up from the soil, blinking at her. “What?”

  Casey pointed at the flowers at the corner of the tray. “The blue ones.”

  “Forget-Me-Nots.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “That’s a good choice. It uh well, it’s remembrance in a nutshell. Like, you won’t forget him. Not that you will or anything.”

  “Yeah. Says it right in the name, huh?” Casey gave a short laugh. “I picked them because they’re blue. Like his eyes.”

  “Also good a reason.” Vinnie bit down on her lip again. “Are you ready?”

  Casey took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think so. Let’s do it.” She put her hands around the box, running her fingers across the raised letters, the smooth wood.

  “Place it in the ground,” she instructed.

  She did so, gently, placing it in the center of the hole Vinnie made.

  “Sprinkle some dirt over it.”

  Casey took a handful of it, squeezing it in her palm. With a deep breath, she held it over the box and let a few clods drop down on it.

  Vinnie, too, inhaled sharply. “We give Patrick Jennings to the Earth, with love, with heart. From here, his memory will flourish. So shall it be.” She pushed the soil back into the hole. When the cremation box was covered, she looked to Casey.

  Her eyes stayed downcast, focused on the rich dark soil. She placed her hand on it, smoothing the dirt over it. “I miss you, Dad,” she whispered.

  Vinnie’s throat tightened with emotion. She had to clear it, once, before she could speak again. “The, uh, the flowers.” She nodded at them.

  “Yeah.” Casey removed the flowers from the tray and put them atop the box. Together, they pushed more of the soil around the base of the flower, patting it down. Within minutes, it was done.

  “So shall it be,” Casey murmured, looking up to meet Vinnie’s eyes. The corner of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. “I guess that’s it.”

  Vinnie smiled back, reached across to take her hand. Their fingers locked together. The clouds parted and the sun, finally, came back. She took it as a sign and lifted her face to it.

  “It’s a start.”

  Andy

  Very Early Sunday Morning

  Guilt gnawed at her. It churned and rolled. Andy thought she might be sick from it. She hadn’t felt guilt like this since her teen years, after her escape from the Hallowed Circle Coven. Was escape the right term? It wasn’t as if they’d held her against her will, but parts of it felt like it. She’d hurt people—killed people—just to get away.

  And Jeremy…

  The guilt of that had always struck her hard, so hard she couldn’t breathe. This guilt, this feeling hit much the same way but far, far worse.

  She’d summoned a demon with her blood. Even if she hadn’t raised the power, or performed the ritual, her blood had sealed the deal. It was significant, even if Andy didn’t know how. Her gut told her as much.

  Her fault. Her responsibility.

  Of course, her first vision in a week had been about him. She hadn’t a single one since that day in the foyer when she knew the Hallowed Circle would never control the demon. She’d relished the calm and quiet a no-vision life gave her. She’d even managed to catch up on sleep, but there’d been no sleep tonight.

  She had woken in a cold sweat, the grip of the vision still holding her in thrall. There was nothing cryptic in this one. She’d been hoping for a straight forward vision for so long, something simple and easy to decipher, but did it have to be… like this? With blood and gore and death?

  She felt sick to her stomach again. She knew where she had to go, but her heart felt like a leaden weight as she dressed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Dim light streamed in through the window. It wasn’t yet daybreak, but it would be soon. Dawn would be a cold one.

  Vivi mewed at her and Andy stooped to scratch the top of her head. “Wish me luck, baby,” she murmured. The kitten wound her way between Andy’s ankles then hopped onto the couch. Andy gave the kitten a placid smile, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she was outdoors. Cold wind smacked her in the face and took her breath away.

  The abandoned lot took up a large section of the block. As long as Andy could remember, it had always been empty. One of the older sections of the Otherside, steeped in mystery, it had horrible energy. One lonely streetlamp cast a yellow glow across the broken pavement. Weeds and grass grew through the cracks and overtook the sidewalk. There had once been a building there, according to her mother, a lawyer’s office, or something. It had burned to the ground. Before that, it had been some sort of restaurant and before that, she didn’t know. The land was cursed. An old magical signature held tight. It was something out of place, out of time.

  A lot of buildings and plots of land around the city had weird vibes. It came with the mystical nature of New Ashton, but no place in the city was as terrifying as this plot of land. Whenever she did come close, Andy made it a habit to walk quickly by, and pay it very little attention.

  Standing in it now, the oppression put her senses into overdrive. Her fingers tingled with the untapped power. She breathed something old—ashes, mildew, and cold air. Her eyes flicked around. She’d seen him in her vision, but where was he now?

  Rocks and pebbles crunched beneath her shoes when she stepped forward. The darkness spread from the corners of the lot, growing thicker and blacker. It wasn’t until she reached the center of the lot that she fully recognized it. She’d seen it, felt it before.

  Andy halted and glanced behind her. The shadows were there too. Following her. She took a deep breath and gathered her resolve. Gods, she’d need a lot of strength to do this.

  Why did this feel like the worst idea she’d ever had?
<
br />   “I know you’re here.” Her voice carried.

  She couldn’t see him yet, but the air thrummed. Andy’s breath came out shakily when she exhaled.

  The darkness receded as the shadows pulled back. Black settled around his feet, dark and wet as ink. Long, unkempt hair fell against his neck and shoulders, and his eyes were still as black as the shadows near him. He no longer looked as emaciated as he had a few days ago. She saw muscle now, where before she’d only glimpsed skin and bone. He wore a ratty pale gray t-shirt that hung off his lithe frame, and the same tattered pants from before. Stains dotted the front of his clothes, and his face too, standing out red against white skin. It coated his hands and they gleamed wetly in the semi-dark.

  He looked just as he had in her vision. Blood-drenched and statuesque. Pale. Terrifying.

  Andy didn’t dare move. He’d killed, hadn’t he? Murdered someone. How else would he be covered in blood? There wasn’t a scratch on him that she could see. It couldn’t be his.

  His head canted to one side. His fingers dabbed at one of the blood splatters. It smeared across the fabric, but he didn’t notice it. His eyes stayed on her.

  “How—how long?” His voice sounded hoarse, gravelly.

  The question caught her off guard. “How long? What? How long since when?”

  “Since…” He trailed off. His head fell back. His eyes traced the softening sky.

  “Since when?” she asked again.

  The demon didn’t move. His gaze went to the streetlamp with its dim electric light. And as he watched it, Andy watched the shadows near him. Instead of moving away from the light, they stayed rooted. It was as if they were an extension of himself. And maybe so. They were unlike anything Andy had seen before… and she’d seen a lot.

  “Since I’ve been away…” He sucked in a breath and lowered his head. When his eyes focused on her once again, she found them no longer an empty void. A rich dark brown stared back at her. He looked… almost human.

  That also took Andy by surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

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