Things She's Seen

by Pat Esden

He glanced up. “It’s all right, Em.” His voice sounded awful. He looked awful.

  “It’s not all right, Gar. I broke your nose.”

  He let go of his nose for a moment, blood trickling down as he positioned the wet towel. “It’s not broken. Only bloody.”

  “I kicked you. I meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I knew better than to grab you like that.”

  Knew better? She opened her mouth to argue, but of course he knew. He hadn’t even needed to see the tabloid covers and headlines or the photos of her shackle-scarred ankles and the tattooed tops of her feet, leaked to the public by someone in child services or at the hospital. He knew firsthand. He’d carried her into the river to cool her overheated body and mind, still clothed except for her shoes and socks.

  Gar tapped her on the thigh. “You mind getting me some ice from the fridge?”

  “Of course.” Pulse still hammering, she started for the bathroom door, then turned back. “Gar? I enjoyed being with you. Seriously, it was a lot of fun.”

  He nodded. “Same here. Now, can you get the ice? This does hurt.” He stopped talking, his gaze lingering on her as if he had more to say.

  “Yeah?” She had to know what it was.

  “I know you were upset earlier—at the meeting. You said the speaker got to you, but”—he lowered the towel from his face—“I didn’t believe you.”

  She looked down at her stockinged feet. A chill worked its way across her skin. She swallowed hard. “The parole board released my aunt.”

  His mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She doesn’t know where you are, right?”

  Em faked a smile. “I think looking for me is the last thing she’ll do.”

  Chapter 11

  Once a little girl who loved her family very much.

  That is until they took their masks off.

  For a long time she could see their faces, even then

  Then one night the truth was la bare, ever y wickedness revealed.

  —“Family” by E. A.

  Em spent the balance of the night in Gar’s bed, with him holding her close. She was surprised he wanted her there after she kicked him in the face and revealed the unromantic detail of her aunt’s parole status—and she wasn’t surprised when she woke up alone.

  However, after a second, she realized he wasn’t altogether gone. His hushed voice drifted out from the bathroom. “That’s ridiculous. Who is responsible for this asinine idea?”

  As quietly as she could, Em scooched across the bed to where she could hear and see better.

  Gar stood with his back to her, phone to his ear. No ghost in sight. “A journalist? Do you know where he is? Send me what information you do have.” His voice deepened. “And tell Chancellor Morrell I plan on talking to him as soon as I get back to headquarters. This is ludicrous.”

  Em picked up her leggings from the floor. She was tugging them on when he walked out of the bathroom. “That didn’t sound good,” she said.

  “It’s worse than that,” he snapped. He grimaced. “I don’t mean to be an ass, but I need to get cleaned up and talk to Devlin as soon as possible. Do you mind?” He glanced toward the door to the hallway, a less than subtle hint.

  A hollow feeling filled her. So much for fantasies about this being more than a get-your-rocks-off hookup—topped with a smidge of unwarranted kindness after the whole triggering of her past and her mention of the parole thing.

  “Em.” His voice remained tough, but worry wrinkled his brow. “Meet me in the hall in ten minutes. I want you to go with me to see Devlin. You need to hear this too.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you then. Get dressed.” Gar turned, disappeared back into the bathroom, and slid the door shut.

  Em stared at the closed door, heartbeat racing. Dear Goddess, what had happened?

  Seven minutes later, she met up with Gar as planned. As they hurried downstairs, she had to jog to keep up with his hard strides, out the living room’s glass doors and into the coven’s gardens. It had rained in the night and the garden’s autumn-faded spires and branches sagged, dark and bleak from the weight of the storm. Devlin’s skill as a landscape architect had created the maze of plants and stone, normally as stunning and bright as a fairy kingdom. Today it looked more suitable for dark elves and wraiths.

  When they neared the footbridge that went over a brook to the coven’s teahouse, they veered down a narrower path. In a second, they were in a graveled parking area, and at the front door of Devlin’s studio apartment.

  Gar barely had time to thump his fist on the door before Devlin’s golden retriever bounded around the corner, tail wagging. The dog hunkered down, squirming up to Gar, whining and quivering all over.

  “Hey, big fella.” Gar’s voice lightened and he crouched, letting the dog lick his hands.

  Em smiled, amused by the dog’s overenthusiasm and relieved to have Gar look happier. “Henry likes everyone, but that’s extreme, even for him.”

  Gar straightened back up and glowered, as if to put an end to the change in mood. He glanced sharply at the dog, whose eyes widened with understanding. He took off at a gallop, straight for the garden path.

  As Em watched the dog disappear, she couldn’t help but wonder if Gar was some sort of secret dog-whisperer. The truth was, he knew a lot about her and her abilities, but she knew almost nothing about him—other than his heritage. “Was that some kind of loup-garou communication thing?”

  Gar’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Does what I am bother you? Are you regretting sleeping with someone like me?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, retreating a step. She certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. She hushed her voice. “What you are has nothing to do with whether I’m attracted or turned off.”

  He harrumphed. “Sure you aren’t lying to yourself?”

  “I’m not like that. Maybe it’s something to do with me being a medium, being so in touch with spirits. I don’t know.” Her hands clenched into fists. She’d thought he got her—obviously she was wrong. “It’s not who or what your parents are, whether you’re French Canadian or Polynesian, or a guy or woman…. It’s your spirit that attracted me.”

  “I’d like to believe that. But you wouldn’t be the first to regret—” He shut his mouth as the door to the apartment swung open and Devlin appeared.

  Devlin glanced from Gar to her. “Am I interrupting something?” His eyes went back to Gar, giving his bruised face a scan. “Rough night?”

  “We’re fine,” Gar said, striding forward. “However, the coven has a new issue.”

  Concern lined Devlin’s face. “Come in. We can talk in my living room.”

  He led them past his galley kitchen to his sitting area. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and French toast hung in the air. Piano music tinkled in the background. The whole atmosphere felt at odds with the gravity of the situation—whatever it was.

  Em perched on the edge of the leather couch. She glanced around. “Chloe’s not here?”

  “She had an early class,” Devlin said. He murmured something else under his breath. In response, the music silenced, and the apartment’s soft lighting rose to sharper brightness. Em would have assumed the changes were the work of a voice response system, except she’d noticed all the other coven members offhandedly whisper commands or use gestures to do lesser magics, like the way Chloe had lit all the candles at the séance with hardly any effort.

  “So,” Gar said, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “The High Council called me this morning. They want me to drive back to Connecticut and deliver my final report at noon tomorrow.”

  “You mean the report on the coven?” Em gawked at him. He was supposed to be here for another week.

  “What happened to a careful an
d thorough investigation?” Devlin asked.

  Em nodded. “That’s barely twenty-four hours.”

  “A couple hours less than that, if you take into account how long it’ll take me to drive to Connecticut.” Gar’s lips tensed into a grim line. “They’re also sending me information about a freelance journalist they want me to interview before I leave. Do either of you have an idea what that’s about?”

  Devlin scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned. “Unfortunately, I do. The journalist attempted to infiltrate the coven, so he could write an article from the inside and expose the world of hereditary witches and magic. Rhianna caught him, threatened to curse his family, and took blood, hair, and fingernails from him in exchange for letting him go.”

  Em got up from the couch. It felt weird to be seated while everyone else stood. “Devlin’s telling the truth. Rhianna’s plan was to use the stuff in a ritual we thought was going to awaken Merlin and return him to this world. We had no idea she intended on bringing Merlin’s Shade into this realm.” She thought for a second. “The night of the club fire, after Chloe drove the Shade back into the otherworld, the journalist was on TV ranting about witchcraft. The Council might have seen that.”

  “You’re probably right,” Gar said.

  Devlin shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why the Council wants you to waste what time you have talking to him. Rhianna’s magic messed with the journalist’s mind. No one who saw the TV show could have taken him seriously. He sounded insane.”

  Gar dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve been ordered to talk with him. And when I do, I suspect the journalist isn’t going to tell me it was Rhianna who screwed with him. He’s going to say it was Athena. That’s who he thought he was dealing with, right?” He looked at Devlin steadily. “That’s assuming your story about Rhianna using your sister’s skin to impersonate her isn’t a lie.”

  Angry red patches tinged Devlin’s neck. “I’m not lying, and you know it.”

  “Then find a way to prove it. I need hard evidence to take to the Council.” His tone turned more casual. “Em and I were discussing exhuming Saille’s body and presenting it to the Council for testing.”

  “Really?” Devlin swiveled, his shocked gaze falling on Em.

  “I had a dream about it last night. If we exhume Saille and prove Rhianna poisoned her, that would throw doubt on all of Rhianna’s other claims of innocence.”

  Gar spoke up. “The problem is—thanks to this ridiculous new deadline—I don’t have enough time now to exhume Saille. If you want to shine a good light on the coven, you need to come up with a different plan. Solid proof. Before tomorrow morning—something like Athena’s body would help.”

  Devlin dropped down on the arm of the couch and covered his face with is hands. “Last night, after the séance, Chloe used her pendulum to try and locate Athena. We used Athena’s personal Book of Shadows for added connection. But we got nothing. Same as the last time we tried.”

  “Do you have something that can prove Rhianna was here the night Merlin’s Shade was awakened? Even something mundane, like a local traffic cam or security recording showing her undisguised or transforming into Athena,” Gar said.

  “No.” Frustration hung in Devlin’s voice. “Between Midas and the Shade’s magic, there was a citywide electronic blackout. There isn’t anything, except that TV show, and that happened after Rhianna left.”

  Em hooked her hands behind her head, thinking back through what she remembered from that night. She hadn’t been around for a lot of it, but she’d been there at the very end, when Merlin’s Shade had commanded Athena to take off the skin choker she was wearing. She’d done as he asked, instantly revealing she was in fact Rhianna. But Devlin was right: nothing electronic was functioning at that point.

  “Did Rhianna work any spells while she was masquerading as Athena?” Gar asked. “What tools did the coven use to awaken Merlin’s Shade? Is there something Rhianna might have left a trace of her magic on? Her DNA. Hair? Blood?”

  Em shuffled his suggestions around in her head. DNA. Hair. Blood. An image of all the coven members cutting their palms and pressing them against a peach-size amethyst came to her. “Merlin’s staff crystal!”

  “The—what?” Gar said.

  Devlin leapt to his feet and pulled her into a hug. “You’re right.” He turned to Gar. “When Rhianna fled, she took the crystal with her. We all put our blood on it—including her.”

  Excitement gleamed in Gar’s eyes, but his voice was succinct. “I’m not familiar with this crystal. What is it?”

  “It’s the crystal from the head of Merlin’s staff,” Em explained. “From his first staff, before he even met Arthur, long before Nimue—the Lady of the Lake—imprisoned him. Rhianna convinced us all to use the crystal as part of a blood oath. We thought we were rededicating ourselves to awakening Merlin, so he could help us rediscover cures that have been lost to time. We believed we were doing something that would help humanity.”

  “I was such an idiot,” Devlin muttered.

  “No, you weren’t,” Em said. “You trusted her because you thought she was your sister.”

  Em’s mind went back to that night, reliving it as Devlin told Gar the story in detail. They’d all been in the teahouse. She, Chloe, and Midas had just passed their initiation tests. A circle was cast, then Athena started the ceremony to officially welcome the three of them into the coven. Of course, it wasn’t really Athena, but none of them knew that.

  “Chloe, come forward,” Athena had called out. “Come forward, Emily and Midas.”

  Em approached the altar with the others and held her hands out with her palms up.

  Athena dipped her fingers into a bowl of water, touched Chloe’s palms, then her forehead. “Blessings and welcome to the Northern Circle, Chloe,” she intoned.

  A sense of peace stole over Em as Athena welcomed her the same way. Athena moved on to bless Midas, then she raised her hands and voice. “Tonight, we are not only blessed with new members. We are also on the cusp of a new beginning.” The pitch of her voice dropped, each word becoming concise and rhythmic, as steady as the hypnotic pulse of a metronome. “We step out. As the Fool off his cliff. As the Wizard from the dark of the winter solstice. A new beginning. A new path for the Northern Circle.” With a flick of her wrist, a slender silver knife appeared in her hands. With another flick, she slit her palm with its blade.

  Em gasped at the depth of the cut and cringed at the thought of how much it must have hurt.

  “Athena?” Devlin said in a hard whisper. “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring him, Athena held up her hand and turned in a slow circle, revealing the stripe of welling blood on her palm. “I welcome you all to pledge like I am. Rededicate yourselves. To a new age. A new way. A new path.” She turned to the altar and rested her bloodied hand on Merlin’s crystal. White and purple light exploded outward, followed by a wave of surging energy. The walls of the teahouse rattled. Bright light flashed again, and Athena’s voice roared, loud and powerful as a thunderstorm. “I offer myself. I rededicate myself. To a new path. To Merlin’s return.”

  The strength of the magic had sent terror rushing through Em, followed by a sense of excitement and wellbeing. She’d come to the coven hoping to find a safe place to live during her first year of sobriety. This amount of power was far beyond what she’d expected, and exactly what she needed.

  Em’s thoughts returned to the here and now.

  “The last time I saw the staff crystal,” Devlin was saying, “was at the circle of stones, right after Chloe drove Merlin’s Shade back into the otherworld. Rhianna had it.”

  Gar rubbed his chin. “Are you talking about the circle of standing stones in the park down the street? I saw it when I was out running.”

  “Yes. But the crystal isn’t there now. I’m certain Rhianna took it.” D
evlin looked Gar square in the eyes. “Chloe might not have been able to locate Athena’s body with her pendulum, but I bet she can find the crystal. It has blood from all of us on it. If we can prove Rhianna has the crystal, would that help our case?”

  “It would help convince me,” Gar said. “And my opinion does carry weight with the Council.”

  Em’s pulse picked up. With Gar on their side, maybe they could do this.

  Devlin took out his phone. “I’ll text Chloe right now and tell her to come back as soon as she’s done at the university.”

  “There’s one more thing: the matter of the journalist. I can’t track him down and witness Chloe’s divination at the same time.”

  A smile flickered across Devlin’s lips. “Midas is our resident computer wizard. I’ll have him locate the journalist for you and round up any information he can. I’m guessing that will help?”

  “That would be perfect.”

  Relief washed over Em and she settled back down on the couch. She looked up at Gar, catching his eyes. Warmth flushed her skin as he smiled back.

  She swallowed hard. There was something else she hadn’t stopped to think about. Whether they found the proof they needed before tomorrow or not, one thing wouldn’t change. In less than twenty-four hours, Gar would be walking out of her life, again.

  Chapter 12

  LAKE PLACID—MISSING TEEN: On Monday, a fifteen-year-old who had been found chained in a hot van bolted from the Adirondack Medical Center. She doesn’t have a phone, cash, or connections in New York State. Police ask anyone who saw a hitchhiker or picked one up to please call them.

  —From The Upstate Tribune, August 10

  A half hour later, Gar had closeted himself in the office to do additional research and Em was in the kitchen, washing the kittens’ bottles. She would have offered to help him—in fact, she was dying to know what he was looking through: daily logs of the coven’s activities, financial records, or perhaps Athena’s Book of Shadows. Unfortunately, when it came to reading, she was painfully slow. Not that she was illiterate—she’d gotten her GED at the halfway house, thanks to her therapist’s support. Still, she was far from a bookworm.