Born of Shadows- Complete Series

by J. R. Erickson

  Though it was invisible to the eye, an energy dome surrounded the flowers and trees, blocking the garden from wind, rain and, of course, evil. As new witches arrived at Ula, they added their own special magic to the space. After Lydie's parents died, she planted a lemon tree in the garden. Fortunately, everything grew in the magic garden. Michigan was generally not an ideal place for lemon trees, but Lydie's mother had grown them at home as well. As an earth element, Lydie's mother had a special talent for coaxing the roots deeper and helping them to draw the nutrients they needed from the soil. Her father, a fire element like Lydie, enchanted the air around the trees to ensure they always had sunlight.

  She pulled out her battered copy of The Thornbirds and folded her coat beneath her head. She had read the book before, several times in fact, and loved Meggie. She saw herself in Meggie, though her own family had died and she had no great love. Someday, though. Someday she wanted what Abby and Sebastian had. She wanted a love and a life separate from the coven, far away from the evil that pursued witches.

  ****

  Sebastian woke in the shed. The darkness and cold startled him and he looked around desperately before he got his bearings. He stood and braced his hands on the workbench. Feeling along the wall, he found the light switch and flicked it on. The desk was scattered with pictures of Claire. When had he retrieved them from the tote he brought home?

  He had tucked the tote into a downstairs closet, unopened. Abby insisted that she wanted to go through them with him so that they she could learn more about his sister.

  He picked up a photo of Claire. She sat cross-legged in front of the scanty Charlie Brown Christmas tree they had chosen for their first Christmas after their parents' deaths. She wore a green sweatshirt, with a picture of a grinning reindeer, and black sweatpants. Sebastian knew that he wore a matching sweatshirt behind the camera lens. He bought them as a joke to cheer Claire up. She begrudgingly wore hers on Christmas morning. He remembered the catatonic way she opened her presents and ate the banana French toast that he cooked. He remembered thinking that he might not be able to handle it. He too grieved the loss of their parents, and he couldn't believe that Claire was his responsibility. He was terrified that he would fail her.

  "And I did," he told the room.

  He glanced at the other pictures, but did not sift through them.

  "You could bring her back," he said out loud and then looked up, startled. His own reflection stared back at him in the shed window. Why had he said that? Of course, he couldn't bring her back.

  A memory stirred in his mind. He stared at the scattering of pictures and willed it to come back.

  Someone had told him that Claire could come back. That magic could return her to life.

  "She's been in the ground more than two years. There's nothing left to bring back."

  He spoke, but the memory continued to plague him. Elements and particles and cells. With enough power the body could just rematerialize. It wasn't easy, but it could be done. Who had told him that? One of the witches of Ula? Julian? No. It wasn't their kind of magic. There was a lot of magic in the world. Some called it dark, but those were just words. Once upon a time, the earth was flat and people were segregated by color. To a Catholic the pagans were heathens. To the pagans, the Catholics were out of touch with the natural world. Good magic versus bad magic. Who made the call? Who decided that one was right and the other wrong?

  Even as the thoughts swirled in his mind, he struggled to separate his own ideas from those that seemed to belong to another. Had someone messed with his head? Several times now, he had woken in the shed with no memory of getting there. He needed to know what was happening, but dared not tell Abby.

  He shuffled the pictures together and tucked them in a drawer in the workbench . He didn't want Abby worried that his obsession with Claire had returned. With the pregnancy and all of the other drama in their lives, she didn't need to worry about him as well.

  ****

  Abby heard knocking, but it sounded far away. She lay curled on the living room floor, in a heap of blankets that she had been folding fresh from the dryer. Suddenly tired, she had crawled into the center and fallen asleep.

  "Sebastian?" she called meekly, hoping he might answer the door. She remembered that he had left to buy steaks for dinner. He must not have come home yet.

  She fumbled out of the blankets and walked, drowsy, to the door. Elda and Helena stood on the stoop. They both wore heavy wool cloaks.

  "Hello, lovely girl," Helena said, pulling Abby into a hug.

  "Oh hi, wow, I didn't know you were coming," Abby stammered. "Come in."

  She moved into the house and Helena and Elda followed. They took off their snow boots and cloaks and hung them on the coat rack before following Abby into the kitchen.

  "Can I make you some tea or coffee?" Abby asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  "No, no, you sit," Helena murmured, guiding Abby to a chair.

  "Julian joined us as well. At Faustine's urging, he is going to work with Sebastian today."

  Elda glanced around the room as if looking for Sebastian.

  "He went into town for steaks," Abby told her. "He's a foodie. Everything has to be fresh. I swear he goes to the grocery store every day."

  "He's finding his groove," Helena said, smiling. "That's wonderful for you both."

  Elda watched Abby with interest.

  "You know, don't you?" Abby asked, seeing the knowledge in Elda's face.

  She nodded.

  "We didn't want to invade your privacy, Abby," Elda assured her. "Galla sensed your pregnancy and she confided to me."

  Abby looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

  "I hadn't intended to hide it," she confessed. "But when I realized..."

  "Have some tea, honey." Helena placed a mug of hot cinnamon tea in front of Abby and then prepared two more for Elda and herself.

  "We're not upset," Elda continued. "It has been a big year for you. Probably the most transformative of your life."

  "I'll say," she agreed.

  "And a baby, oh, it's so exciting," Helena gushed. "But we understand why you wanted to keep it to yourself."

  "Do you?" Abby asked. "Because I'm not sure that I do."

  "What do you mean?" Elda asked, concerned.

  "I guess I just feel off, and it's not only the hormones. I feel like the baby wanted me to keep her a secret. Does that sound insane?"

  The older witches exchanged troubled looks.

  "Is it possible that it's not the baby communicating that to you?"

  "You think it's Kanti?"

  "I think that Kanti is very invested in getting into your head. I don't know why, but it seems strange that just as you became pregnant, she shared the birth of her own child with you."

  "A child that she cursed," Abby said gravely.

  "Maybe," Helena said, and they both turned to her in surprise. "What if she didn't intentionally curse the baby? What if her pain and anger acted without her?"

  "I will challenge you on that with this. If she didn't intend to create the curse, why does she appear to be perpetuating it? Imagine the energy it would take to inadvertently do such a thing. And then the energy to maintain it. The energy to make contact with and manipulate the Vepars," Elda continued.

  "The energy to make contact with and manipulate us," Abby murmured.

  "I guess that is difficult to argue with," Helena admitted.

  "We have another reason for dropping in on you today, Abby."

  Abby waited, her body tense. Had Oliver mentioned that Sebastian had been acting strangely?

  "Julian found a map at Ula," she continued.

  Abby relaxed, letting the breath she had been holding rush out.

  Elda cocked her head to the side.

  "You know about it?"

  "No, just had some nausea coming on. It passed," she lied and immediately felt guilt at the deception. "What kind of map?"

  "A map that appears to mark a burial site. When Oliver
returned to Ula, he recognized the shape of the peninsula. He thinks it may be here on your property."

  "A graveyard?" Abby wrinkled her nose.

  "No, not a graveyard. A single burial."

  "And you found this in the Kanti Files?"

  "Exactly," Helena affirmed. "In the Important box. Julian noticed it right away. It was marked Trager so we knew it had to be in this area."

  "And Oliver confirmed that it's here?"

  "Not confirmed, but felt pretty sure. Julian is on a walk right now. He's hoping to ascertain whether the map depicts your property or not. Can I ask you, Abby, what compelled you to buy this home?"

  Abby stood and set her empty mug in the sink, suddenly needing to feel busy. She refilled the teakettle and shuffled through the cupboards for the sipping chocolate that Sebastian had brought home on his last adventure to the market.

  "European sipping chocolate?" she asked, holding up the container.

  Elda waited patiently and Helena nodded, lifting up her cup.

  "I dreamed about it," she confessed.

  The water boiled quickly and the teakettle began to shriek. Abby jumped, startled.

  "We had been looking at houses for a few days. We stayed at that big hotel on the bay, The Cherry Resort. It has glass breezeways that connect two sides of the hotel. One night, I woke up and I walked into the hall and down to one of the breezeways. When I looked out, I saw this enormous old house surrounded by woods. It looked like a real-life dollhouse and I swear my dream took me right up to the sitting room window. Inside the house, this giant fire blazed in the brick fireplace and the room was filled with people. You were all there, plus Lydie and Oliver, Sebastian and me, even my parents. I don't know that I'd ever felt so safe and loved and just...home. And then I woke up."

  Helena breathed and looked toward the window and the sweeping view of the snowy shore.

  "It is beautiful."

  "How did you find it after your dream?"

  "I didn't have to," Abby went on. "Sebastian had already set up three viewings for us that day. This house was our first stop."

  "It didn't concern you at all? That you dreamed of the house and then you found it?"

  "No. The Kanti dreams are different, Elda. I'm in her life, they're more like memories and half the time, I'm not even sleeping when I have them. This dream felt guided by me, my energy, my spirit."

  "But you feel her here? Kanti?"

  Abby bit her lip, wishing she could deny the question.

  "Yes, but maybe she is focusing her energy more on making contact. I don't see why it should have anything to do with our property."

  "Because if her body is buried in those woods," Elda murmured, "her connection is a lot stronger."

  ****

  "The greatest barrier to your elemental energy is right here." Julian tapped two fingers on the side of his head. "Therefore, you must practice quieting the mind. Ancient practitioners of yoga called this yogash chitta vritti nirodhah—or the mastery of the mind's activity so that you can rest in your true nature. Buddha referred to this as taming the monkey mind. In any discipline that involves detachment from the ego and the material world, you will discover the same guidance—you must quiet the mind."

  Sebastian nodded and shifted from foot to foot. They stood deep in the trees on his and Abby's property. They had hiked more than a mile in, until Julian stopped suddenly and said it felt like a good place to start.

  "You'll sit in the snow in silence. Let's start with a half hour."

  "Are you serious?" Sebastian asked, incredulous. If meditation was the training, why couldn't he sit by the fireplace where he wouldn't freeze his balls off?

  "I know it seems counterintuitive. I bring you into the cold, clearly rain is on the way. You are uncomfortable, probably irritated, but all of those distractions are the truth of your brain in any given moment. It is much easier to meditate in comfort, but it only teaches you to still your thoughts in moments of peace and tranquility. I want you to still your thoughts when everything in you is talking—when your body is crying out for attention, when your mind is questioning the validity of my guidance. That is a rich space of learning."

  Sebastian opened his mouth and then closed it. He wanted to argue. Part of his nature tended toward stubbornness, and it had been many years since anyone told him what to do. He almost couldn't help but question the old witch's tactics.

  Julian watched him carefully, but gave away no evidence of his thoughts. Was he expecting Sebastian to argue?

  "Okay," Sebastian said, finally.

  He looked around for a suitable place to sit and finding none, plopped onto the snow. He folded his legs awkwardly. He had not worn snow pants, believing the physical exertion would have him sweating in no time, but now he regretted the decision.

  Julian wandered away from him.

  He closed his eyes and tried to focus. A hundred thoughts darted around his brain.

  "It's like a pinball machine in here," he muttered and then cracked an eye open to see if Julian had heard him. The man was nowhere in sight.

  He shut his eyes again. He focused on his breath, counting to five on the inhale and eight on the exhale. Abby had taught him that one and it often helped him to fall asleep at night. As he counted the seconds of his breath, his legs and butt shifted from cold to tingling and then finally numb.

  When a thought arose, he envisioned encasing it in a bubble and watching it float away. That tip he'd learned from Claire, and she had learned it from Adora. Claire had wanted to help him with his temper. One night she sat him down, legs crossed on a pillow, and walked him through a guided meditation. Each time he had an angry thought—that particular day Sebastian had been livid over a neighbor who kept taking his parking space in the apartment complex—he should imagine the thought moving inside a bubble and then floating into the sky.

  As he remembered the evening, he lost track of his empty mind and started to think of Claire. Thoughts of Claire ignited his most recent memory of waking in the shed with ideas of her resurrection. It was utter madness and yet something sparked in him at the thought of her. He imagined Claire holding his and Abby's newborn baby. He envisioned her sitting on the porch in the summer, sipping ginger ale , her favorite, and talking with Abby about life as a witch. Abby would have a friend and he would have his sister back.

  He realized that his whole body had grown tense with his contemplations and he had taken hold of something in his hands. When he opened his eyes he saw a crow, its dark wings slick, crushed in his grasp. Its head hung to the side and its black eye stared at nothing. He gasped and flung the bird away from him.

  He looked up to find Julian watching him through the trees.

  Chapter 18

  Abby stooped to pick up a tiny onesie, freckled with pink and yellow elephants. She ran her hands over the soft fabric and felt a rush of warmth spread through her body. She added it to her basket.

  It felt good to shop for baby clothes. The experience felt so fabulously normal. Unfortunately, her thoughts veered into a very non-normal space-specifically to conversations from the day before. Elda seemed convinced that something sinister had led Abby and Sebastian to their house. She disagreed. When she asked Sebastian about it, he barely said two words before complaining of a headache and slipping off to bed. She wondered if his work with Julian had exhausted him.

  A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she swung around, basket in front of her, ready to defend herself.

  "Whoa." Victor took a step away and held his hands up. He grabbed a white blanket from a shelf and waved it in the air. "I surrender."

  "Good grief, are you trying to send me into early labor?"

  He laughed and cast his eyes down.

  "I would imagine that's not a risk just yet."

  She smiled and shook her head, exasperated.

  "Still, I prefer not to start a rainstorm in the Stork Stop."

  "It is quite a place, this Stork Stop. I saw a bib back there that said I shizzled in
my dizzle."

  Abby groaned.

  "I think I'll skip that one, but how cute is this?"

  She held up the onesie.

  Victor furrowed his brow and pretended to examine it carefully.

  "I'm not sure how realistic yellow elephants are."

  "It's for a baby. The goal is cute, not realistic."

  "You say that now, but have you seen the pink bunny pajamas in A Christmas Story? That kid was ruined for life."

  "I appreciate the clothing tips, but what are you doing here? It's an awfully long drive from Chicago to help me pick out baby clothes."

  A black look passed over Victor's features.

  "Buy this stuff and then we'll talk. I don't want to ruin your baby bliss."

  Outside the store, Victor steered Abby to his car.

  "There's a little coffee shop down the way. It looked pretty empty on my way here. Let's go there."

  "Milk and Honey," Abby told him. "Coffee and ice cream. My kind of place."

  Victor chuckled.

  "Always have food on the brain, don't you?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "But Milk and Honey is extra special because they have organic ice cream, so it's a guilt-free indulgence."

  "You're gonna need it," he mumbled.

  She gave him a questioning look, but he ignored her.

  At the coffee shop, Abby ordered a decaf coffee and espresso ice cream with caramel and brownie. Victor asked for three shots of espresso.

  They chose a table near the window, though they had little risk of being overhead. Other than the young woman scooping ice cream, the place was deserted.

  Victor pulled a notebook from his backpack. He laid it on the table and flipped to a series of drawings.

  Abby gasped and nearly dropped her ice cream.