“Someone,” Kaden agreed hotly. “But not Joel. We need him to concentrate. We all need to concentrate.”
Ainsley chewed his thumbnail. “What about Maggie?”
“What about Isla?” Kaden countered.
Evan gazed thoughtfully at Pippin. “Maggie,” he decided. “He’ll be more familiar with her.”
Joel met Pippin at eye level again. “Can Maggie talk to you? Tell you what to say?”
Pippin nodded his head, his blonde ringlets corkscrewing every which way.
Joel stood up. “I guess that’s a yes.”
“Okay,” said Evan. “Anyway, having an extra body around could work in all of our favour. We don’t know how we’ll react to this spell yet. It’s possible that any one of us could lose control at any given time. If something goes wrong, Maggie can pull us all out.”
Joel felt a chill run down his spine, then shook it off. It was too late to turn back now.
He crossed the room and opened the door. It gave a loud creak.
“Maggie?” he called down the narrow stairwell.
A moment later, footsteps ascended the spiral staircase and Maggie appeared in the doorway.
“Did you call me?” she asked. Her shadow threw a long shape across the floorboards.
“Yeah,” said Joel. “We were hoping you could help us out with something.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Me?”
“You won’t have to do much,” Joel explained, stepping aside to allow her into the room. “Just whisper these lines into Pippin’s ear when it’s his turn.”
Evan angled the journal towards her. “And if anything goes wrong, like if someone falls out of the spell, we’ll need you to bring us all out of it.”
“Ohh-kay,” she said, wringing out her hands. “But how will I know if someone falls out of it?” The term sounded unnatural on her lips.
“Don’t worry.” Joel linked his fingers through hers. “You’ll know. They’ll literally . . . fall out.”
“Okay,” she said again, drawing in a shaky breath. “And how will I bring the others out?”
“Literally, just pull us out,” said Ainsley, rolling his hand in the air impatiently “It’s not that hard. You’ll figure it out as you go along.”
Maggie swallowed. “So, these lines,” she glanced at the open book in Evan’s hands. “Can we run through them first?”
“Sure.” Evan handed her the notebook. “We can’t say it together yet, just in case . . . well, you know. But you can try out Pippin’s part.”
Maggie crossed the room to Pippin, who watched her approach with a shy smile. She knelt on the hardwood floor beside him and whispered into his ear.
He echoed the words of the spell aloud.
The room collectively released a breath.
“So, we’re doing this,” said Joel, his shoulders tensing as he spoke.
Without a word, Evan withdrew a lighter from his pocket and ignited the wick of a large black candle positioned on the floor in the centre of their circle. They surrounded it in order of their age, with Pippin next to Evan and Maggie kneeling behind Pippin. The brothers joined hands and began.
Evan went first. “Together we search . . .”
Joel was next. “Together we summon . . .”
Then Kaden. “Bound by blood . . .”
And Ainsley. “Bound by coven . . .”
Finally, Maggie whispered into Pippin’s ear and he spoke his part out loud. “Witch five, gether peak.”
And then, in unison, they chanted, “The path of Evangeline is what we seek.”
A YOUNG WOMAN lay in a field, gazing up at the clouds as they floated leisurely by. The grass was dry and the soil was parched from the hot weather that Blackheath had been experiencing all summer. Standing over her was a young man, not yet out of his teens, with brown hair and bright violet eyes. He was shirtless, and his shoulders were red from the kiss of the August sun. He dropped to the ground and lay on the grass beside her. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He balanced one between his lips and lit it, then took a long drag.
The girl gave a deliberate cough and waved her hand in front of her face. “Max,” she scolded softly, “I wish you wouldn’t smoke those things. They’re bad for your health.”
He laughed, smoke rushing from his lips. “Screw it,” he said. “Live for the now, Eve.” He took another drag.
Evangeline turned her head and gave him a look he knew well—a reproachful look, her cool grey gaze meaningful.
Maximus rolled his eyes back at her, then stubbed the cigarette out on the soil. “There,” he muttered. “You happy?”
She smiled, her pink lips full and shiny with gloss. “Yes. Very.”
Maximus pulled her into him and kissed her passionately, then lay back on the grass, letting the sun beat down on his chest. He yawned lazily. “Let’s go to the bar.”
Evangeline sat upright and adjusted the straps of her thin cotton dress. “Now?” she said, looking down upon Maximus. “It’s the middle of the day!”
“Exactly.” Maximus sat up, too. “I wanna go do something. Come on, Eve. Let’s go have fun.”
Evangeline folded her hands together in her lap, staring down at the yellowed grass. “I can’t go to the bar today.”
Maximus groaned and fell backwards, covering his face with his hands. “You always say that.”
She sucked in her breath. “I do not!”
“You do,” he said through his hands. “It’s been like this for weeks. You used to be fun, and now all you want to do is lie around here talking about houses and jobs and stuff.”
Evangeline swallowed hard. “So? What’s wrong with planning our future together?”
“Who cares about the goddamn future?” Maximus yelled to the sky above. “We’re nineteen, Eve! We need to be living for the now.”
She tugged at a stray thread on the hem of her dress. “Fine. You go to the bar, Max. Go get drunk with your friends and be nineteen.”
Maximus stood up abruptly. “Whatever,” he muttered tersely as he began to walk away.
Evangeline rose to her feet. “Max, wait!” she called after him. Her blonde hair fluttered in the sudden breeze and her dress pulled against her skin.
He turned to meet her eyes. His expression was remorseful, hopeful even.
“I’m sorry—”
“There’s something you need to know,” Evangeline cut him off.
Maximus’s brow creased as he frowned. “What? Is it Jefferson?” He punched his fist into his palm. “Did he make a move on you?”
“No!” Evangeline said, flustered. “Jefferson’s your friend. Why are you always so suspicious of him?”
Maximus stared at her steadily. “So, what is it, then?”
“Max . . .” She bit her lower lip. “I’m pregnant.”
“JOEL. JOEL, CAN you hear me?”
He could hear her voice, but he didn’t want to respond to it. He was tired—dreaming, maybe? He could hear Pippin making strange fuzzy noises.
Where was he?
“Joel?”
“Maggie?” he managed to reply. He could feel her hand now, tugging at his. He wasn’t in bed, he realised. He was . . . standing up?
His eyes shot open, and suddenly it all came back to him. He was in the turret of Really Old Aunt Pearl’s mansion. His brothers stood beside him, forming a circle, their eyes closed and their hands clasped, just like they’d been before reality had fallen away. Only now, Pippin was balanced on Maggie’s hip, nuzzled into her hair and sucking sleepily on his thumb.
Joel was fully awake and sober now. “Is he okay?” he asked Maggie, gently touching the back of Pippin’s head. “Are you okay?” His gaze met Maggie’s and he searched her eyes, fear building in his chest.
“He’s fine,” Maggie assured him. “I’m fine. It’s just that Pippin fell back from the circle, and then you were shaking. I don’t know what happened.”
Joel glanced around him as his other brothers
began to awaken from their trance, groggy and disoriented. Beyond the vast windows, the moon shone down on them.
“What happened?” Ainsley slurred. “Why did the spell end there? Is that it?”
“Pippin fell out,” Joel murmured. “The connection broke.”
“Is there more to see?” Ainsley closed his eyes, as if trying to recapture the thread of the memory. “Does it end there, with Mum telling Dad she’s preggo? You all saw that, right?”
The others nodded, and Maggie looked strangely at them.
Evan raked his hand through his hair. “The spell wasn’t finished.” He paused. “So, the baby Mum was pregnant with . . . that must have been me?”
“Yeah,” Joel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unless we have other siblings we don’t know about.”
The Tomlins boys’ collective gaze travelled to Kaden, who shrugged.
“They mentioned Jefferson,” Kaden added. “Do you think they meant Jefferson Fallows?”
“Dad never mentioned that he and Jefferson Fallows were friends when they were young,” Evan murmured.
Joel laughed darkly. “There are a lot of things that Dad never mentioned.”
Evan looked down at the hardwood floor. “You know, Joel, I never noticed how much you look like Dad.”
“Right?” Ainsley guffawed. “For a while there I thought we were watching a memory of Joel! Or should I say, a glimpse at boozy, smoky future Joel.”
Joel grimaced. “I might look a little like Dad, but I am nothing like him.” His nose crinkled. “Nothing.”
Ainsley raised his hands in a peace gesture. “Alls I’m saying, J, is that if history repeats itself you’ve got a couple years left before you develop into a real waster.” He chuckled to himself. “It’ll probably happen.”
“I want to go back in,” Kaden said suddenly. “I want to see more.”
The window panes began to tremor with the wind.
Ainsley clapped his hands together with a smack. “So do I.”
Joel glanced at Pippin, who was still huddled into Maggie’s shoulder. He turned to Evan. “What do you think?”
Evan drew in a slow breath. “Pippin,” he said to his youngest brother. “Do you think you can try again?”
Pippin dropped his thumb from his mouth and smiled broadly. He nodded his head, and golden curls bounced around his temples.
Carefully, Maggie placed him back in the circle and Ainsley and Evan took hold of his hands. Then, with Maggie softly whispering the words into Pippin’s ear, they chanted the spell once more.
EVANGELINE STOOD IN the oak-panelled room with rows of plastic chairs set out behind her; but all of the chairs were empty. Her long blonde hair was twisted into a braid, with a flower headdress balancing on her brow. She wore a floor-length white dress with enough give to allow for the huge swell of her midsection. She gently stroked her stomach, feeling the baby moving inside of her. Her one and only family member present on this magical day.
At her side was Maximus Tomlins, her true love. Dressed in his charcoal grey suit, his violet eyes were full of adoration as he took her hands. The ordained minister in the registry office began reciting their vows, which they echoed back to him.
“To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part.”
Evangeline and Maximus beamed at each other.
“I now pronounce you,” the minister concluded, “husband and wife!”
The couple’s two friends who had been called upon to witness the union looked on with strained smiles.
Maximus beckoned to the young man watching from the side lines. “Jefferson!” he called. “Take our picture.”
Jefferson raised a disposable point-and-shoot camera, and its flash illuminated the sparse room like a bolt of lightning. The second witness, a young woman with thick, jet black hair and a knee-length dress, stepped forward and kissed Evangeline on both cheeks.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispered tightly into Evangeline’s ear.
Evangeline grimaced. “Of course I know what I’m doing, Tia,” she hissed back through gritted teeth. “I love him.” She summoned another smile as Jefferson pointed the camera again.
“It’s not too late to get this thing annulled, Eve,” Tia uttered under her breath.
Evangeline shot her friend a glare. “And why do you think I’d want to do that?”
“He’s a deadbeat,” Tia said. “And a witch. Remember that.”
“So is Jefferson,” Evangeline snapped back. “But that doesn’t seem to bother you, does it?”
Tia raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but I’m not going to marry Jefferson.” She forced a smile as the camera flashed again. “Wonder why none of your family are here today, Eve? Why I’m the only friend you’ve got left?”
Evangeline flinched. She touched her fingers to her stomach. “This is my family,” she said stoically. “My baby.” She glanced to Maximus, who was posing for a picture with the minister as Jefferson clicked the camera. “And my . . . husband.” A smile formed on her lips.
Tia sighed. “Good luck, then, Eve. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She turned and made her way back to Jefferson, her high heels clattering on the linoleum floor as she strode away.
The minister excused himself after shaking the couple’s hands one last time.
“Now let’s go celebrate!” Maximus shouted, fist-pumping the air and giving a whoop, decidedly oblivious to the rigid expressions of the two onlookers.
“Celebrate?” Tia echoed, folding her arms. “You mean, go to the bar?”
“Yeah!” Maximus slung his arm around Evangeline’s shoulder. “If we can’t celebrate on our wedding day, when can we celebrate?”
Tia stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Max, your wife”—she jabbed a long red fingernail in Evangeline’s direction—“is nine months pregnant with your baby. She could go into labour at any moment.”
“All the more reason to get in some partying while we still can!” He jumped down from the podium and ushered them out of the cold room.
Tia stalked ahead, muttering under her breath.
Only Jefferson trailed behind, walking beside Evangeline.
“Congratulations,” he said stiffly.
“Thank you,” she replied, her tone guarded.
“I hope you’ve made the right choice.”
Evangeline’s hands balled into fists. “You were never a choice, Jefferson.”
He laughed derisively. “You know that’s not true. I see the way you look at me.”
She laughed, too, but without humour. “You’re deluded. I wish you would just leave us alone.”
“I’m Maximus’s best friend. He wanted me here,” Jefferson said, his tone almost taunting. “And if it wasn’t for that baby you’re carrying around, I think you’d want me here, too.”
Evangeline touched her stomach protectively. “Leave my child out of this. From now on, you need to stay away from me. And from my husband and my baby, too.”
“You’ll change your mind, Evangeline. It’s only a matter of time.” He trailed his finger down her spine.
With that, Evangeline suddenly gripped her stomach and cried out. Then she doubled over in pain, grabbing hold of one of the plastic chairs for support.
Jefferson stepped back, his eyes impassive.
Evangeline winced. “I think the baby is coming,” she rasped. “Get Maximus.”
Jefferson stood still.
“Go!” Evangeline cried. “Go get Max, please!”
He still didn’t move.
“Don’t let them leave!” Evangeline screamed. “Max!”
Suddenly the door opened and Maximus reappeared.
His face clouded as he saw his wife’s distress. “Eve!” he cried hoarsely, running towards her.
Jefferson melted from his stone-like state. “Where have you been?” he snapped at Maximus. “We’ve been calling you.”
“JOEL!”
There it was again. That voice, ca
lling to him.
Maggie.
He detached himself, shivering in the shadowy room. How long had they been under this time? He blinked, vaguely noticing that the others were awake, too. Ainsley looked weak. Sick, even.
“Are you okay?” Joel whispered to him.
Ainsley’s voice came out in a tremor. “I fell out,” he said.
Joel took in the scene around him. Maggie was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding Pippin, whose eyes were glazed as he played listlessly with his pebble. Kaden’s eyes were glazed, too. Only Evan still looked coherent, strong.
That’s why he’s the Chosen One, thought Joel.
Joel reached out and patted Ainsley on the shoulder. “Maybe we should stop,” he said. It pained him to suggest it, but how much more could his younger brothers handle?
Ainsley shook his head. “No. I just need a break,” he said, sinking down to the floor beside Maggie and Pippin. “Just a few minutes, then I’ll be fine.” He let out a shaky breath.
Joel turned to the others now. “You all saw everything? The wedding, Jefferson, Mum . . .”
The boys nodded.
Evan bowed his head. “Dad was such an idiot.”
“Yeah.” Joel gave a bitter laugh. “No wonder she left him.”
“So that’s how she ended up with the Fallows coven?” Kaden mused aloud. “She got sick of your dad acting like an ass all the time and decided she’d be better off with Jefferson?”
Joel saw Evan’s jaw clench.
“He’s still our dad,” Evan bit back. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.”
Kaden scowled. “And she’s my mother, too,” he snapped. “And your dad treated her like crap. He was only interested in partying,” he spat with disdain. “I’m just agreeing with what Joel said. It’s no wonder she left him.”
“Whoa,” Joel cut in, holding up his hands. “Let’s not let our parents’ dramas be ours. This still doesn’t tell us everything. We’re still no closer to finding her. When we go back in”—he glanced at Ainsley—“I mean, if we go back in—”
Blackheath Resurrection (The Blackheath Witches Book 2) Page 16
