Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3)

by Candace Knoebel

“Good.” She grabs one of the large, airtight jars, putting it in my hands. “First and foremost, salt,” she says. “It’s our best friend.”

  Jezi opens the front door as the cool morning breeze caresses my cheeks, and then takes a startled step back. Cassie and I both stop and look up to where her finger is pointing. A decorative welcome wreath made from herbs and flowers intertwined together hangs on the door.

  “I guess we won’t have the honors of teaching you how to make a ward today,” Cassie says, her mouth slightly hanging open in shock.

  “Why?” I ask, looking between them.

  “Because,” Jezi drags out. “This is a ward.”

  “You made that?” I ask, amazed at the intricacy. I remember having them hanging around my house growing up, but my mother never taught me how to put one together.

  My stomach turns with homesickness.

  “No,” Jezi says. “But let’s find out who did.” She puts her hand against the wreath and closes her eyes, whispering silent calls to the God and Goddess. Her eyes open. “Evangeline made it. She put it here last night.”

  My heart slows to a stop. “Oh,” I say.

  “You can sense a Witch’s magical energy. Go ahead, touch it,” she encourages.

  I stare at it for a moment as a million thoughts pass through my head. This was made by Jaxen’s mom. She was here… when we were here. And he’s hurting over it. And I’m about to touch it.

  “Go on,” Cassie says. “It won’t bite.”

  Forcing a smile at her, I reach up, hesitantly at first. Strength emanates off the wreath even before my fingers caress the edges of the flowers. There’s a familiarity to it… like the scent of someone’s home lingering in their clothes. I feel Jaxen in this magic. Feel his lineage.

  But I also feel something else.

  Darkness.

  I retract my fingers and tuck my hair behind my ears, trying not to think of the worst.

  “I think she made this as a base for us to work off,” Cassie explains as she stares up at it, head tilted in thought. “To Witches, offering a ward is a way of welcoming a new neighbor to the neighborhood. And it’ll allow us to tap into the wards she’s already put up around the house so we can strengthen them. Otherwise, we’d have had to do a vanquishing spell and start from scratch.”

  “She means banishing spell,” Jezi corrects, looking at Cassie with a small smile.

  “Right.” Cassie giggles. She points to her head. “It’s still early, and the brain hasn’t quite warmed up yet.”

  “Banishing spells are no fun,” Jezi adds. “They’re a huge drain on power, and usually require hard-to-find ingredients.” She steps through the doorway, continuing her lesson. “This ward is now the heart of the central system of wards placed around this house. You always have to have one if you want the others to maintain strength and durability. Hand me the Witch’s Bottle.”

  Cassie grabs a small jar packed with shards of mirror and rusted nails, soaked in some kind of clear liquid, and hands it to her. “Where are you burying it?”

  “By the elderberry bushes,” Jezi says, swishing the liquid around the glass. “I figure that’s a good, strong starting point for the ward. Faye can walk the salt around, and then we can invoke the God and Goddess and complete the spell.”

  “Works for me,” Cassie says. She grabs a sprig of sage, lights the tip on fire, and blows it out until it begins smoking. “I’m going to cleanse and bless the rooms inside while you both do that then.” She turns from us, heading into the mudroom off to the right of the entryway.

  I follow Jezi across the porch and down the steps onto the gravel path in front of the house. I’m glad I didn’t decide to pull my hair up, because it naturally falls against my cheeks, fighting off some of the chill.

  “Where exactly are we?” I ask, taking in the beauty of the tall trees and glistening lake resting below the hill that sparkles as if it’s beckoning us.

  “Salem, Oregon,” she says. “Jaxen said this house has been in his family for centuries.” She stops in front of a very tall elderberry bush. “This is it for me.” She closes her eyes and opens her palms. A second later, a small garden shovel manifests in her hands. “Let me break ground, and then start your trail from there. Make sure you’re only thinking about strengthening the wards while you pour. The stronger your intent is, the stronger the spell will be.”

  I nod, and then she squats and plunges the shovel into the rich soil. Popping the lid on my jar, I push everything out of my mind except the need to strengthen the ward. When the salt hits the ground, I feel my magic and intent pouring into it and make my way around the side of the house, taking careful steps, focusing on the ward. It only takes me a few minutes to get all the way around, and then the line reaches the freshly dug hole made by Jezi.

  “Good,” she says, standing up. “Now, help me with this spell real quick, and then we’ll settle the salt into the earth.”

  I take her offered hand, connecting my magic to hers, and we close our eyes.

  “To the great Horned God, Lord of the sun,

  I call upon thee.

  To the blessed Triple Goddess, Lady of the moon,

  I call upon thee.

  Let the shards of mirror reflect away any negativity brought into this house.

  Let these rusted nails pierce any with the intent to harm us.

  Let this vinegar prevent any harmful magic from crossing the barrier of our ward.”

  When the spell is spoken, she lets go of my hand and unscrews the lid. She pours some of the vinegar onto the salt, and then puts the lid back on. After we bury and cover the jar, we press our hands into the fresh, cold soil and push our intent into the earth. The salt seems to drink in the vinegar, and then I watch in amazement as the salt settles beneath the soil from our magic pushing it deep down, anchoring the ward.

  When it’s done, Jezi stands, dusting her hands off against her blue jeans. I say a quick spell to clean the dirt from my hands, and then look to her with an accomplished smile.

  “You did good,” she says, and in her eyes, I can tell she’s proud in her own way. Proud like how Katie would be of me.

  “You too,” I say awkwardly, picking up the empty jar.

  Cassie comes down the front porch steps and stops in front of us. “Okay,” she says with an exhale, “the house is cleansed of any bad juju.”

  “We just finished up too,” Jezi says. “All that’s left is sealing the spell.”

  “Then let’s get to it,” Cassie says, moving to stand between us. She sticks out her hands and we take them, combining our magic together. “I’ll say the spell, while you two juice me up with all you’ve got.”

  I close my eyes, fueling her as she calls upon the God and Goddess.

  “To the great Horned God, Lord of the sun,

  We call upon you to witness our rite and offer us protection.

  To the blessed Triple Goddess, Lady of the moon,

  We call upon you to witness our rite and offer us protection.”

  She concludes the spell and releases my hand. “Easy as cake, right?”

  “Easy as pie,” Jezi corrects. Her head cocks to the side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Cassie says a little too quickly. “I meant pie. It just came out as cake for some reason.”

  “Okay,” Jezi says slowly, nudging into her shoulder.

  “But enough about me. Let’s go handle those boys,” Cassie says.

  Jezi rolls her eyes. “If I have to listen to one more insult from Weldon, I swear I might shoot myself. Or him.”

  Cassie laughs. “He likes pestering you. You know that.”

  Her cheeks are red, and I don’t think it’s from the cold.

  “What’s going on between you two anyway?” I ask, chewing the inside of my cheek after I realize how brazen of a question it was for someone I’m barely on good terms with.

  She looks at me for a moment, almost in shock, and then shakes her head as if she’s shaking off the question. “Nothi
ng,” she says quickly. “And there never will be anything.”

  “We saw you two kiss. The night we broke the Holy Seal,” Cassie says boldly, crossing her arms. She isn’t going to let up on this and I’m glad, because I’m just as curious.

  Jezi exhales, and runs her fingers through her hair. “I… I don’t know what’s going on,” she says with a shrug, looking away from us. “He kissed me… yes… but we haven’t really spoken about it since.”

  There’s a vulnerability in her tone I haven’t heard from her before. Like her heart’s decided to rest on her sleeve, even if temporarily.

  “It’s Weldon. You’re lucky if you get more than a sentence that makes sense from him,” Cassie says, raising her eyebrows. “You know feelings aren’t really his thing.”

  Jezi exhales again, forcefully this time. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this,” she says, her head held down in shame, “but I actually think I like him. Like… really like him. I keep having these dreams.”

  “Whoa!” Cassie says, grabbing Jezi by the arms. “Dreams? You’re dreaming of him now?”

  Jezi’s face is unmistakably basted in red. She’s looking over her shoulder, toward the house, telling Cassie to lower her voice, and I can’t help but smile. Laugh. I’ve never seen her like this. Open. Unsure. “You have to keep this to yourself. Swear. Not even Gavin, or I’ll spell your hair right off your head!”

  “Okay!” Cassie says on the edges of laughter. “Don’t be so touchy. It’s just a crush.”

  “A crush I have no business having,” she mutters.

  “He’s really not that bad, beneath his asinine remarks,” I say. “He actually has a really deep heart.”

  Jezi’s face smoothes out a little, like those words were much needed. “We should head in,” she says. “Make sure they haven’t killed one another yet.”

  “Hopefully, they did. It would save us from having to,” Cassie says, throwing her arm over Jezi’s shoulder with a small wink.

  I’M NOT AS SURPRISED AS I thought I would be when we enter the house and find Gavin and Jaxen sitting next to each other on the chaise.

  Gavin’s hand grips Jaxen’s shoulder in a fatherly manner, and my heart does a weird little flip. Jaxen’s head is down, listening intently to whatever it is that Gavin’s quietly telling him. His elbows are perched on his legs, his hands crossed in front of him. He turns his head so he can see Gavin, unleashing the most sincere smile I’ve seen him wear in days.

  A real smile.

  A smile filled with so much love and respect that it chokes me.

  The love they share between each other is something sacred. It’s a bond not many will ever have the chance to experience. Something that no one but them can ever truly understand. And this makes me realize that relationships are like fingerprints. No two are the same, and no two can be replicated. They are unique to each person involved, and even though what may seem like a detrimental, end-all blow to me, may be something that together, they can overcome.

  And I think I love them more because of it.

  Weldon’s over by the liquor cabinet, one hand placed against the old oak wood, holding him upright, and the other filling two crystal glasses with amber-colored liquid. He puts the top back on the decanter, and then adds two pieces of ice to each glass with the precision of an artist. The three of them are completely absorbed in what they’re doing, unaware that we’ve even returned.

  Jezi’s eyes scan the room, and then she places her fingers against her lips and whistles loudly, forcing the attention from everyone in the room onto her.

  All three heads turn.

  Cassie snickers.

  Gavin’s hand falls from his brother’s shoulder.

  “The wards are set. Everyone is settled in. So, now that you two have kissed and made up, can we get to the discussion of what the hell comes next?” Jezi says, strolling into the room with an extra curve in her walk.

  Weldon clears his throat, licking his lips as his gaze dances over her figure. “I love a woman who can whistle,” he says, wearing a smirk while holding up a glass, swirling it so the ice clinks together. “You’re just in time. Anyone want one?”

  “Sure,” Cassie says first, blowing out a big enough breath to push away the wild strands of curly, strawberry-blonde hair falling against her porcelain face. She crosses the room in a few large, greedy strides, snatches a glass from his hand, and tips it back. When she’s done, she drags a hand across her mouth and hands the glass back over to Weldon, who stares at it with a perplexed look upon his face.

  Everyone’s left staring at her, mouths open.

  “What?” she says with a defensive shrug. “If we’re going to have this conversation, then I want a drink.”

  “Class at its finest,” he mutters, and then his eyes cut back over to Jezi’s. The golden color deepens a little, smoldering with thoughts I think he yearns for her to hear. “You?” he asks, holding up the other glass, his voice low and deep.

  I feel the immediate heat radiating off her body when he addresses her. The way her heart beats out of sync and her mind grows fuzzy, and I immediately close myself off from her, not wanting to pry.

  “No, thanks,” she says, her eyes locked on his. Her voice is quiet and lilted with the melody of courtship.

  Jaxen rises from the chaise and finds my gaze. His charcoal-gray V-neck is half-untucked from his dark denim jeans. His hair is standing at all ends from the constant twisting and pulling he does every time he gets nervous. He wears a soft smile under his five o’clock shadow that doesn’t quite meet the hidden sadness I see dwelling deep within his green eyes.

  I swallow the millions of emotions he makes me feel in just one look and cross the room. When he lifts his hand out to me, I take it and let him pull me down onto his lap. Cassie sits on Gavin’s, giggling when he plants kisses along the curve of her neck. He grins at her and she ruffles his hair, wearing the only kind of smile you can wear when you’re in love.

  “Here,” Weldon says, handing Gavin his drink. He takes his seat across from us in one of the black leather, diamond-tufted armchairs, slouching comfortably as if he’s sat in it a thousand times before.

  “So,” Jezi says, taking her seat next to him in the other armchair. “Where do we begin?”

  “With where it last ended. Clara,” Jaxen says, intertwining his fingers with mine. “We suspect she has Faye’s Grimoire. She wasn’t able to call it to her.”

  Jezi’s eyes grow wide. She sits straight. “You left it there?” she asks, not even trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Oh no,” Cassie says. She also sits straight and leans forward, her eyes glued to my face in shock.

  I feel like the world’s worst Witch.

  “It’s not like I had much of a choice,” I say quickly, defensively. “It was kind of hard to get back to my room when I was busy saving our lives.”

  “There are certain spells you set in place to make sure that doesn’t happen. That keeps your Grimoire from even being touched by another. You didn’t do that?” Jezi asks, and I hate how she’s already ready to attack me. To scold me like a teacher scolding a student who couldn’t answer the simplest question.

  Heat flushes up my neck. My mouth and throat are a dry wasteland. “No,” I say sharply, trying not to focus on all the negative attention geared toward me. “No one told me about those types of spells. I just did basic ones. It’s not like I’ve had the training you all have had. I’ve had a few books and the quick lessons you’ve given me.”

  Jezi palms her forehead, shaking her head.

  Cassie clears her throat and runs her hands down her legs. “It’s okay. This is all okay. It isn’t the end all,” she chants, trying to sound encouraging even though her voice is still shaking with shock. She’s always the kinder one, and it helps ease the tension in my shoulders a little. “The bright side is that no one, aside from the rightful owner of the Grimoire, can even open it. Clara might have a spell holding it, but with strong enough magic, we can get
it back.”

  She has my full attention now. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Cassie’s eyes shift to everyone in the room, and then hesitantly land on me. “It’s uh—it’s not that easy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She exhales. “I mean, there are setbacks, Faye. Consequences. When you cast a spell of that magnitude, it leaves a trace. A trace that a seasoned Witch could easily pick up on.”

  Weldon flicks the side of his glass for attention. “Can I take this one?” he asks Cassie.

  Her eyes scrunch at him and her mouth moves to speak, but Weldon doesn’t wait for her approval.

  His gaze cuts over to mine, and he says, “What she’s saying is, Clara, of the many qualities she’s unfortunately good at, happens to also be a well-seasoned Witch, with or without her powers, mouse. Though, using such a mediocre method of entrapment is quite beneath her standards.”

  “Because her ‘standards’ are so high,” Jezi snorts out.

  Cassie scoots closer. Touches my knee as if this solitary move will help soften the blow from whatever she has to say next. As if it will help ease the fact that what I’m basically hearing is that Clara always wins, one way or another. That I need to up the ante if I’m ever going to be a step ahead of her.

  Murder lives in my fingertips, and they itch to seek solace. To reap the soul they almost had.

  “Putting all of that aside, the point is, after everything that has happened,” Cassie continues, searching my face, “we can’t just rush into anything anymore. Not with the Priesthood looking for us, and Bael and his army waiting for our next move. We have to think smart if we want to survive.”

  I take in a steadying breath, trying to absorb her words. Trying not to jump to any conclusions that could result in an argument. “I get what you’re saying, but we can’t leave it with her,” I say determinedly. “If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same.”

  Cassie shakes her head. Purses her lips as if I’d just slapped her. “You’re not hearing anything I’m saying, are you?” she asks incredulously. “You’d actually risk our safety for this?” The accusation embedded in her tone stings and scrapes like small rocks thrown my way. “Just like that?” she continues. “Because if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t put everyone at risk. I wouldn’t have left my Grimoire unspelled either.”