In this series:
Ancestral
Between
This book is dedicated to three people
I simply could not live without.
To Lisha, my sister, who has been there through thick and thin, who has embraced my oddities and has encouraged every artistic venture I have embarked upon. Your love and support is something I will never take for granted.
To Heather, who has been a creative spark in my life, who has balanced my mind and kept it focused on my writing hobbies, all of which was crucial to finishing this book and often to my sanity.
To Damien, my wonderful son, whose love and intelligence has been my muse and my joy for nearly a decade. I would not be the person I am today without you. Your wonder and belief in the magick of the world inspires me every day.
Prologue
Life as a witch was supposed to be interesting.
At the very least, it wasn't supposed to involve so much school work. Lila Raegan reclined in her computer chair, staring at the blank computer screen in front of her, willing it to write her coursework for her. It was already three days late, and no closer to completion than any of her forgotten summer hobbies. As a skilled witch, Lila often wondered why she had to bother going to conventional school, particularly when her future path was already mapped out for her. Her parents, Moira and Kaleb Raegan were the high priestess and priest of their coven, which was made up of the entire congregation of Spirit users in Ontario, Canada.
Being the topmost point in their geographical and spiritual pentagram came with many benefits, but seemingly not location. No, while the covens of Water, Fire and Earth got to live it up in cities like Brampton, Hamilton or London, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, a quaint (however loosely the term was used) little place known as Markdale. She had never met any of the other covens; that was a luxury only afforded to the high priestesses, at their annual meet on Samhain. To everyone else, the holiday was known as Halloween, but to witches around the world, it was the end of the Celtic year, marking the end of the harvest season and the day when the veil between life and death was thinnest.
Each year, the priestesses (or priests) of the covens would meet and perform a ritual, which would ensure the balance of power within each coven for the coming year. One day, it would be Lila's job to perform this task, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, heading into Waterloo (the centre of their pentagram) and meeting her equals in power, getting to share in their own unique branches of magick and truly open up her world beyond the confines of her own gifts.
Glancing at the clock, Lila frowned, her senses tingling uncomfortably. She couldn't say for sure what had her on edge, but whatever it was, she couldn't shake it. Kicking her feet out against the wall, she used the momentum to push her chair back and stood, moving over to her bedroom mirror to fix her hair (read: fidget for no reason). Her long, dark hair fell loosely across her shoulders, a little tousled from where she'd been resting her hand in it as she sat at her desk. Making an effort to comb it through clumsily with her fingers, she let it fall loosely around her heart-shaped face.
Everyone told her she looked like her mother and, though she protested the idea of this to anyone who would listen, secretly she couldn't help but be pleased by the comparison. Her mother was beautiful, no question about it. Lila was lucky enough to have gained her full lips and her pale green eyes, rimmed with blue as if they couldn't decide which colour they should be. Her hair, however, was all down to her father. While her mother had fine, blonde hair, Lila's was thick, a deep auburn which contrasted with her pale ivory skin. Her height was a mystery – both of her parents were over 6ft tall but she barely reached 5ft 4. Her father affectionately nicknamed her 'shrimp', something else she protested. It was a teenager's job to deem all adults as uncool, and all nicknames embarrassing by default.
Leaning close to the mirror, she smudged at her eyeliner on her lower lid, trying to even it out, when the image in the reflective glass shifted, abruptly enough to make her startle. The image rippled, pulling away like elastic before snapping into focus on a face very much like her own. There was a sense of urgency on the woman's face, the anxious emotion filtering through the surface into Lila's very soul, though the sound was muted. Pulling back just a little, Lila reached out with her mind, tuning herself to right spiritual frequency, just in time to hear her mother scream out her name.
“Lila-!” So much panic in that one word, as if she'd screamed herself raw already. “Lila, I don't have much time. They're all gone, all dead. You have to reach out to the new leaders– save the coven, save everyone! I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you so much.”
It had to be a Samhain prank, right? Lila opened her mouth to tell her mother to stop joking, that it wasn't funny, when a figure appeared in the frame, right behind Moira. Lila felt her heart clench, feeling her own emotions turn to panic.
“Mum!” she yelled, hitting out at the mirror as if doing so could save her – which, of course, it couldn't. This was just a shadow image, passed from soul to soul with no actual connection to the physical plane. As the mirror shattered, she had just enough time to see a blade plunged into her mother's back and then ripped out again viciously. Screaming, she felt the world go hazy, and the floor rushed up to meet her, blanketing her in the bliss of unconsciousness.
Chapter One
The chill November air wrapped around the coven like a blanket as they surrounded the grave site, silent and as unmoving as statues while two coffins were lowered into the ground, side by side. They each took a handful of dirt to drop in, murmuring soft words of goodbye. Answering numbly, Lila was mostly unaware of them, instead lost to her memories of her parents.
Soft hands brushed through her hair, her mother's voice permeating her thoughts, speaking over a dreadful wailing Lila soon realised was coming from her own mouth – a keening, needy sound of pain and the pleading for comfort. She remembered this moment well, the first time Moira Raegan had shown her the wonders of magic beyond mischief and unrealistic dreams. The salve was cool against her leg, and she could swear she felt the skin knitting together.
“I see the moon, the moon sees me -
Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree.
Oh, let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the one I love.”
Moira's voice was clear like crystal, like all of the rough edges had been worn away through years of use, and Lila knew then that everything would be all right, as long as her mother was by her side.
No one left as the graves were filled in, but each filtered by Lila dutifully to give her a hug, a kiss, a gentle condolence. She felt almost guilty, being so detached whilst everyone remained around her. After all, they were her only family now. The thought made her heart hurt, though she knew that her parents had moved on to new lives and that their bodies would return to the Earth that gave them life. Everything had its own cycle. Even as she reminded herself of this, she willed the pain to stay, to remind her that she had lost something. Everyone was in so much of a hurry to move on, to let go of the pain, but she had come to depend on it over the last few days. It was her reason to rest, her reason to move, to eat – to survive. Her mother had wanted this, for her to continue and to figure out what had happened to her, who the mysterious 'they' were.
The bandage around her hand was a painful reminder of the moment her mother's power had flown to her at the point of her death, striking her mind violently and causing her to black out. Every time she flexed her hand, she felt the new magick stir beneath her skin, reaching out to heal the wound, only for her to stop it before it could do so. She needed to feel the pain, to know that she was human. It reminded her that her powers of spirit, her ability to heal, were not to be used lightly. Spirit had the un
fortunate downside of potentially damaging the mind, driving them to permanent madness. It took a strong witch to wield Spirit; Its advantages were as poignant as its weakness. If she needed to, she could force her way into someone's mind to retrieve information at great risk to both them and herself, heal wounds and even raise the ghosts of the recently dead to question them. Lila regretted deeply that she (to her own mind) lacked the strength to do this with her own parents, the very thought bringing her pain.
All around Ontario, the other five covens were carrying out similar burials, each laying totems of their craft on the graves to honour their dead leaders. Their new leaders had already been sworn in and witnessed before the Deities. Titles automatically passed to the children of those who had fallen, along with the power that the passing had bestowed upon them. Technically, Lila had the strength of her parents now, the strength of all of her ancestors. She didn't feel strong, though. She felt small, weak and insignificant. She didn't know how to solve a murder case – that was supposed to be something for the human police, not an eighteen year old girl. All of the books she'd read, all of the films she'd watched, full of ordinary people trying to do the jobs of trained professionals – she'd laughed at them all, scoffed at the notion that they would ever be able to complete their goals. Yet, here she was. One lonely girl, no family and the weight of the world on her shoulders.
It wasn't true to say she was entirely alone in her grief and insecurities, however. Out there, four other people faced the same task, and maybe together they could pull it off. Was it wishful thinking? Maybe, but no one could make her believe that having others on her side was a bad thing. She needed that comfort, the knowledge that she could rely on someone. She knew instinctively that the others would need the same things. After all, though their covens loved them and would likely do anything to support them, it was a double-edged sword. They were also burdened with having to appear competent in their new positions, lest their weaknesses drive the coven to find someone who was more up to the task. Even though she had never really wanted the power which came with being named coven leader, Lila found that she would not give it up for the world, especially since it would mean a diminished link to her ancestors, who she missed dearly.
After what seemed like hours, Lila finally turned away from the grave. Everyone had filtered away, leaving her with her thoughts, knowing she needed to be alone, at least for a little while. What they didn't know, however, was that she wasn't going to be joining them at the wake. It wasn't that she didn't want to make merry and toast her parents; she did, but right now she had to set the search for their killers in motion, and had already arranged to meet the other new leaders of the covens near to where their parents had been murdered.
Before she even realised it, she had reached her car, almost walking into it in her daze. She hit the button on her keys to unlock it to the usual merry chime of beep beep and the double blink of the rear lights, then climbed in, taking a moment to steel herself before setting off. Business as usual; Nothing less would do when this was the first impression she was to make on the other covens. After another breath, she turned the key in the lock and felt the car roar to life beneath her.
The drive felt painfully long, but also far too short for her busy mind to work through its issues. As she finally hit the city centre, Lila felt a startling wave of culture shock. While her home in Markdale was small and surrounded with greenery and beautifully landscaped gardens, Waterloo was a bustling concrete jungle, filled to the brim with people who looked hurried and completely out of touch with the natural world. Contrary to her long-held belief, she definitely did not like the city as much as she liked home, and wished with all her heart that she was back there now. Still, this trip was important to more people than her, and she couldn't let them down any more than she could let her parents down. She would just have to grin and bear it, no matter how odd the feeling of being cut off from the natural environment felt.
Soon, the brick and red painted wood of a Tim Horton's came into view, and Lila pulled into the car park, using her phone to confirm that she had come to the correct establishment. Naturally, none of the teenagers had wanted to meet at the usual site, which was still stained with blood. It would take months to wash from the stone paths, if it ever did. Taking a moment to tie her long hair back off of her face, she surveyed herself in the reflection of her windscreen. To imply that she had a bit of an aversion to mirrors right now would be an understatement, so her new companions would have to deal with whatever ratty ponytail she pulled together in her obscured view.
Getting out of the car, she smoothed down her suit's skirt, allowing the stray thought that she looked vaguely like a lawyer to enter her mind and even to make her smile. She imagined her mother sniffing and commenting on how her little girl was all grown up now, and the thought gave her strength. No, her parents weren't really gone; as long as she could remember her father's teasing tone and her mothers ever-present over concern, she would be fine. Here in the city, it was almost easy to forget that they were gone, at least for a little while, and she knew her parents wouldn't begrudge her that, not now when she needed to be so strong. Pushing open the door, she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and –
“You're late.” the voice was bored, masculine and feigning a lack of interest. Lila's gaze was drawn to a group at a nearby table. Two boys, two girls. She could sense their energies as clear as they must have sensed hers. The speaker was a male, obviously older than her with brown hair and eyes as dark as pooled chocolate, stirred with streaks of cinnamon. She gave him a watery smile, a weaker first impression than she'd wanted, but it would have to do.
“Adam.” came a peppy voice, the blonde girl at the table. “Mister gruff and moody over there. His name is Adam. I'm Sadie, our lovely red-headed friend is Elsie, and -” she raised her voice unabashedly. “- this is Troy!” Sadie tapped a blonde guy, slighter than the 'gruff' Adam, who had earphones in. Troy pulled out an ear bud, the unmistakeable sound of Abba playing at full blast. Waterloo. Lila raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously?” she asked, unable to stop herself from chuckling lightly, even with the weight of the world resting firmly upon her shoulders. Troy grinned sheepishly, standing up as if on ceremony, and she wasn't surprised to find that he was significantly taller than her. Over six foot, for sure. He held out his hand, and she hesitantly took it. His skin was clammy and cool, the only sign he gave of being just as nervous as she was. Instantly, she took to him. Troy had to know that she'd be able to tell, and had opened himself up to that vulnerability with her, like an open invitation into the pain they shared.
“Troy. You must be Lila.” he charmed, bright azure eyes deceptively cheerful. They had all come from funerals, but there seemed to be a collective need to pretend none of that had happened, and that this was just an ordinary meeting between distant friends. Lila nodded, shaking his hand once and sat down. Adam had taken to staring out of the window blankly, so she looked at the others instead. Elsie seemed to be focused on picking at her plate, which looked mostly untouched. Her fork scraped the plate, and a shudder passed through all of them like a Mexican wave in response to the noise.
“Hey.” Lila spoke softly to the girl, and was pleased to see her offer a smile in return. She didn't comment on Elsie's red-rimmed eyes, as she was sure she looked no better herself. She fidgeted with her bag for a moment, lulled into an awkward silence with the rest of the group.
Again, Sadie seemed to come to the rescue, stretching out with a luxurious yawn.
“The drive was a drag, am I right? And this city, phew. I don't know how our parents could come here and not go nuts over the years. It's kind of claustrophobic.” she spoke frankly, and Lila quickly warmed to her easy nature, giving her an indulgent smile. It was out there; Sadie had mentioned their parents, and they had survived it. The group as a whole seemed to relax. Everyone here knew what it was like to go through the loss of a parent, and they all knew the burden which was resting on their heads.
Even Adam seemed to rejoin the group, and Troy finally sat down – he appeared to have been frozen there for a while, and a quick look around sparked Lila's intuition. He'd been staring at one of the boys at the counter.
“You're right.” she agreed brightly, earning a look of wary confusion from the blonde. “The guy at the till, he's adorable.” Troy went crimson.
“Oh. Ah – about that...” he began, but Adam interrupted him.
“Don't fret.” Adam reassured Troy with a shrug. “I don't think anyone cares if you're into guys. If you check me out, though, I'm gonna need feedback.” A grin, and Troy nodded, giving him a once over almost comically. “Hmm. You're not my type, but you could definitely get more attention without the scruff.” Troy teased, stroking his own smooth chin to indicate what he meant. Adam pondered it for a moment, then gave a decisive nod. “Then the scruff goes.” he proclaimed, then stood up, heading to the bathroom.
“What, right now?” Elsie spoke up, surprised. Sadie looked most amused out of them all.
“When a guy's gotta go, he's gotta go.” the blonde girl answered Elsie, and Troy laughed. It seemed they were fast friends already, despite the circumstances. Sadie pulled out a mirror, reapplying the rose-coloured lipstick to her plump, pouty lips. Lila found herself staring, not just at the girl's make-up routine, but at the mirror she used. Would it change for her? Had they seen their parents murders, or were they blissfully unaware of how scared the adults they'd loved and respected had been, in the end? She both hoped they knew what she'd seen, and that they hadn't – no one deserved that torture.
Ancestral Page 1
