Skeptic

by Denise Mathew

  "It's you," I said with a note of astonishment. I hadn't seen him since I had been a teenager.

  "Yes little one. But there's no time for talk, you have to awaken your power," he said, his voice low and gentle.

  "I still don't know what that means," I said.

  He nodded, and smiled warmly. "You are gifted with many things Elise, the ability to talk to the dead, and other gifts that you will find out in time, but for now you must grasp the part of you that can reach into the spirit world, and bring souls back into the physical. Atticus can't die, your destinies are too intertwined to be separated."

  I shook my head. It was fine to tell me what I could and couldn't do, but unless he showed me how to do it, I was screwed.

  "How?" I asked, but he had already begun to fade, and the room went wild again.

  The Elder witches were dissolving, and with them Atticus. I still didn't know what I was supposed to do, but standing idly watching them take him away wasn't the solution. I elbowed Mira in the stomach. The move surprised her enough that she dropped the hand holding the knife, and it was all the opportunity I needed. I smashed the side of her skull with the obsidian mirror, and she went down hard, landing in a heap on the floor. I sprinted forward, the Elder witch ghosts were now just wisps of smoke, and I didn't hold out much hope that I could save Atticus.

  Contrary to my grim expectations, Atticus, or what was left of him, was still on the pentagram. No longer corporeal, he was sprawled out unconscious, and nothing more than a shimmering essence. Going by instinct alone, I slipped past the smoky fog, that held the last bits of the Elder witches and grabbed for Atticus. I expected my hand to pass through him, but instead I connected with solid flesh. As soon as we touched, his body began to materialize again, but unfortunately so too did the Elder witches.

  I stared down at the pentagram. I didn't know much about witchcraft, but I was positive that Atticus being inside the pentagram wasn't a good thing. I tucked the mirror under my arm, not willing to give it up, and shoved my hands under Atticus's armpits. With short bursts of exertion, I tugged him out of the circle. I had always believed I was strong, but Atticus had at least sixty pounds on me, and my muscles protested against the heavy load. Grunting and sweating, I edged him out of the pentagram.

  Out of nowhere, something slashed my arm, sending a violent spike of pain through my flesh, but I refused to stop. Furious screams from the Elder witches rang through the air, and twisted my stomach into knots. My heart pounded in my ears, and the muscles in my arms were on the verge of giving out. Surprisingly, the further I got him from the pentagram, the more solid Atticus grew, until he was corporeal again.

  "I'll kill you, you bitch," Mira screeched. She grabbed my hair, and jerked my head back, clumsily attempting to slice my throat with the athame. The athame slipped from her fingers, and bounced off my lap onto the floor, and both of us dove for it. I reached it just before Mira threw herself onto me, and we rolled as one, but still I managed to keep hold of the knife. I was astonished that even after I had hit her so hard in the face, she still had a lot of fight in her.

  "It's over Mira, let go, you don't need to do this," I said, trying to reason with her, but by the crazed look she shot my way, she was beyond sanity. I tried to wriggle the hand holding the knife out from between our bodies, but couldn't.

  She dipped her hand between us and dug her fingernails into my flesh, until I released a little, and she clasped the hilt of the athame. A wide grin split her face, and she wrenched the knife free. In one smooth gesture, she whipped the athame up into the air, and arched it toward me, but just before the blade pierced my throat, a fist snatched her wrist, and she flew back and away from me.

  Atticus, tattered and bloody, and still unnaturally pale, panted as if he had just finished a long run. He shot me his crooked grin, then spun around and sprinted toward Mira. In seconds, he lifted her bodily into the air, then strode toward the pentagram, and with tremendous force, threw Mira into the middle of it. He pushed his hand down on her chest, pinning her in place. Gold and silver sparks snapped around his fingers, and he suddenly jumped away. Mira let out a single bloodcurdling scream, then went silent, as the Elder witch ghosts eagerly fell upon her. The Elder witch ghosts formed a tight circle around Mira, and she was soon hidden from view.

  "Come on," Atticus said, snaking a hand around my waist. He shoved me toward the door, and just before we passed over the threshold, I looked back. The last puffs of smoke that had once been the Elder witches had dissipated, and Mira was gone.

  I jumped into the car, and glanced over at Atticus, who was already behind the wheel. His shirt was ripped in places, blood trailed down his arms, and he had a small gash on his cheek, but miraculously that was the worst of it. As for me, other than a few shallow wounds on my upper arm and neck, and the burning pain in my shoulders from pulling Atticus, I had escaped relatively unscathed.

  Breathing hard, I buckled my seatbelt, and leaned back against the car seat, and the stark realization that Mira was really gone, and with her all the answers to so many of my questions, hit me.

  "What happened to her Atticus?" I asked, still trying to process everything.

  He shrugged, and put the car into gear.

  "I transferred some of my aura to her, and the Elder witch ghosts thought she was me. They took her to the Underworld. I don't know what they'll do with her when they realize who she is, but to be honest as long as she's out of our lives, I don't care what happens to her."

  I didn't answer, and as we drove away from the cottage, I let the silence lengthen between us.

  Atticus was the first to speak. "Now I see what your mother meant when she said you had power that the magickal community would want," he said.

  I angled my head to the side. "That's not exactly news," I said.

  He shook his head. "No, it's more than that Elise."

  He turned to face me, his eyes showed what suspiciously looked like awe.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  He released a long breath and shook his head. "You reached into the spirit world and pulled me out, as if it didn't break every known rule of nature to do it."

  I shrugged, and was as baffled as he was, at how I had managed to get him back.

  "I have no idea how I did it, I just..."

  My mouth snapped shut before I said another word. I wasn't willing to tell Atticus about the ghost of the man that had encouraged me to act, because I was worried that I might say more than I wanted.

  "Is it over?" I asked. We pulled back onto the main road.

  "For now, maybe," Atticus said, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “But the Magickal community and the Aswang aren't going to be happy with us. We just eliminated one of their strongest witches. We're not safe here anymore."

  My mind swam with confusion. Mira was a murderer, Nanny Flo a traitor, and the Aswang were out for my blood, and if that wasn't enough, the man I loved, just happened to be the same one who had tried to kill me. I didn't think life could get any more complicated than it already was.

  "We have to go home," Atticus said, his voice breaking into my thoughts.

  I narrowed my eyes. "Back to the city? Do you think that's safe?"

  He chuckled and shook his head. "No Elise, my true home, Ireland."

  My eyes popped wide. "You can't be serious," I said. "What about the show, my life and..?"

  Atticus brought his eyes to mine, and there was resolve in his expression. "Your old life is over Elise, it's time you thought about your future."

  I wanted to protest, but I knew he was right. Too much had happened for me to go back to the bubble of ignorance I had spent most of my life in. But even though I knew I couldn't go back, I didn't know how to go forward either. I wrapped my arms around my body.

  "Where do I start?" My voice was small, and reflected how absolutely lost I felt.

  His fingers, gentle and warm, brushed my cheek.

  "I know there's no way in hell that you can trust me a hundred perc
ent, I don't expect that from you, not for now at least, but one thing I can tell you for certain, is that I have your back."

  For a moment I didn't know what to say. I loved Dakota wholeheartedly but he no longer existed, and I almost laughed at the impossibility of the situation.

  Atticus rested his hand on my shoulder.

  "What do you say Elise? Are you willing to give it a shot? Stick with me and see where this goes?"

  I glanced over at him, struck by his beauty. His sculpted face was near perfect, his wild hair still begged to be touched and his grin made my heart flutter. On the exterior, he was the same man I had fallen in love with, but beneath it all was someone I didn't know. Love told me I could trust the man sitting beside me, but common sense said I couldn't forget his shady past. I sighed, and his face tensed as if he were afraid of what I might say, and seeing his uncertainty clinched it for me.

  "I'll try."

  I curled my fingers around his, and he shot me a lopsided grin.

  "That's all I can ask for," he said, his Irish accent distinct, and it reminded me that it was one more thing I had to get used to.

  There was so much about him that I didn't know, but now wasn't the time for questions. We had too many things to think about, and a multitude of enemies to dodge. A brand new chapter in my life was about to unfold, and it somehow had to include the Skeptic. But for right then, I had made a decision, one I prayed was right, and even amidst my lingering doubts, I believed Atticus when he said he had my back, and for right then and there, it was enough.

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