Things She's Seen

by Pat Esden

  Her fingers clamped around the nurser bottle. She crammed the cleaning brush into it and scraped the bristles against the sides extra hard. She’d been cheated out of so much. The chance to go to high school, most of junior high, and lots of grade school. She’d loved grade school. Riding the bus. Her desk. The aquarium filled with fish. Painting. She really liked art class. She remembered struggling to read, but she’d loved books and the library. And poems… she had always loved them best of all.

  “School’s a waste of time for special people like Em,” her aunt had said to her mother. “It’s inappropriate and hurtful. She’s meant for bigger things: to provide for her family. Why else would she have been given such an exceptional gift?”

  Em remembered reading in front of the class in fourth grade, stumbling over her words. She remembered crying about that. But years later, she’d sat in the front row of the Royal Palm Playhouse, listening to The Tempest over and over until she memorized every line. At night, she’d recite it aloud with Alice while they pretended to be shipwrecked instead of homeless.

  An ache pinched in Em’s chest, growing sharper and pushing outward until it screamed to be released. No one had heard Alice’s cry that night. No one had stopped her from putting that needle in her arm.

  Em squeezed her eyes shut. Let it go. Let it go, she repeated to herself. She stuffed her hand into her pocket and clenched her A.A. medallion. Gods and Goddesses, grant me the power of water, to accept what I cannot change. The power of fire, for the courage to change the things I can. The power of air, for the ability to know the difference. And the power of earth, for the strength to continue on my path.

  She counted to ten, extra slowly. Then she shoved the memory back and forced her feet to walk to the fridge. She reached for the kittens’ formula but changed her mind. It hadn’t been that long since the kittens had eaten, but the smell of the French toast in Devlin’s apartment had made her stomach growl, reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast. No doubt Gar was equally hungry. She hadn’t seen him eat anything since… now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember him eating at all.

  Em nibbled on Swiss cheese and ham as she assembled two sandwiches for him. She piled them on the tray with mustard and mayo on the side, along with chips, pickles, an apple, and a couple of Brooklyn’s cinnamon sugar cookies, plus a glass of organic milk. Saille had remained oddly absent since her last encounter with the last tug-of-war sensation. However, hauntings—and loup-garou heritage—weren’t the only things that could make a person edgy. Not eating was almost as bad, especially for someone like Gar, who wanted to stay sober and needed to keep his head on straight.

  “What’s this?” Gar said when she toed the office door open and walked inside with the tray of food.

  The room was as dark as it had been yesterday. Once again, the only light came from the gooseneck lamp on the desk, shining down on an open book and reflecting up onto Gar’s face. He looked scholarly, except for the camo cap and the bruise under his eye and up the side of his nose.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

  He closed the book and set it to one side, giving her room to put the tray down. “Thanks. I didn’t want to take time to make something, but I’m starving.”

  He took the top slices of bread off the sandwiches and slathered them with mayo and mustard. He glanced up at her. “Sorry if I came across as rude earlier, when you asked about the dog’s reaction to me. I’m not used to talking about my family, especially the loup-garou aspect. Comes from my job, I guess.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t exactly the right time to ask.”

  She sank into the chair beside the desk, watching as he added chips and pickles to the sandwiches. He mushed the top slices of bread back on, then devoured a huge bite.

  She crossed her legs at the ankles and hid them under her chair, wondering if he’d rather eat in private. It wasn’t just his family and past she knew nothing about. She really didn’t know much about his preferences either, outside of the bedroom—or for that matter, inside the bedroom. She really wanted to, though.

  He set the sandwich back on the plate. “Did you eat?”

  “I had a slice of cheese, and some ham. I should go check on the kittens, leave you to eat in peace.” She glanced at the book he’d been reading. It had Northern Circle’s emblem on the front cover and “Athena Marsh” embossed on the spine. “Is that Athena’s Book of Shadows?”

  “No. It’s a record of the coven’s activities she kept while high priestess. I have to say, her details about the Craft are some of the most insightful I’ve ever read. And I’ve read hundreds of high priest and priestess journals.” He took a sip of milk, wiped his mouth. “I wish I had enough time to read the whole thing. Nothing about this twenty-four-hour deadline makes sense.”

  “It does seem screwy.” Before Em could get another word out, Gar’s phone buzzed.

  He glanced at it. “It’s Devlin. Chloe’s back. He wants everyone to gather in the teahouse.”

  The teahouse was a simple one-room structure with a translucent sliding door. Woven-straw mats covered the floor. A brazier filled with glowing coals gave off light and warmth. Em loved the unassuming beauty of the place. Totally serene. It was also the perfect place for Chloe to use her divining skills to locate the staff crystal, especially since it was where they’d performed the blood swearing with Rhianna.

  As they went inside, Em watched Gar’s face out of the side of her eye. He had a smile in place, but he didn’t immediately take off his cap. Instead he kept it tugged low over his eyes, surveying the room from under the shadow of its bent brim.

  Devlin and Chloe were already kneeling on the floor, talking quietly as they situated a laptop in front of a low altar. Brooklyn was placing candles on the altar, along with a chalice and fingerbowls filled with water and stones.

  Brooklyn turned to glare at Gar, then elbowed Chloe. “Sure you’re going to be able to focus with him here?”

  “I’d be more uncomfortable if he wasn’t,” Chloe snapped. She smiled at Gar. “Join us. We’re almost ready.”

  Em touched Gar’s elbow to urge him forward and let him know she understood how awkward the situation was for him. He pulled his arm away, as if the public intimacy bothered him, then strode forward. Her stomach sank, but she guessed she understood where he was coming from. She technically was part of the coven, and he technically was their enemy, even if they’d stepped across those lines more than a few times already.

  “I’m assuming you’re going to use an aerial view on the laptop instead of a conventional map for this,” he said to Chloe and Devlin.

  Devlin nodded. “We’ve done it before. Worked well.”

  Gar crouched, looking closely at the laptop’s prone screen. “You’re starting globally. That’s smart.”

  Em folded her arms across her chest and stood behind them, feeling useless as they talked about how Chloe would dangle her pendulum over the map and focus her magic. When the pendulum stopped swinging and started circling in a general location, Devlin would enlarge the map. She’d focus again, narrowing the location down from continent to country, then to city or town until they pinpointed a building. Em tucked her hands in her pockets. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to get a super exact location of Rhianna if she had cast a cloaking spell or heavy-duty ward around the crystal.

  “What kind of security measures do you have in mind for us?” Gar asked.

  A confident gleam brightened Chloe’s eyes. “Chandler and Brooklyn created an anonymity ward. Even if Rhianna senses our intrusion, there’s no way she’ll be able to track it back to us.”

  The teahouse door opened. Midas strutted in with Chandler. He flicked his dreads over his shoulder and thrust out his chest proudly. “Good news. I located the journalist. He’s staying at a motel, just a little ways down Route 7.”

  “That’s fantastic,”
Chloe said. She raised her voice, addressing everyone. “If you all will take a seat around the altar, we’ll get started.”

  “Do you want me to get the robes?” Chandler jerked her chin in the direction of the supply cupboard.

  “Not tonight,” Devlin said. “After Rhianna, I think we can all use a break from that sort of formality.”

  Em looked down, hiding a grin. Apparently, it was common for members of covens to wear matching robes. Some even had different colored robes for special events or types of spellwork. But Rhianna had taken it to a manipulative extreme, very much the way her aunt had controlled what she wore for public appearances. Always dresses. Lacy and girlish. Tights with ankle socks. Cardigans with pearl buttons. It was empowering to wear what she wanted, even if her clothes were Goodwill castoffs.

  She took the empty spot between Chloe and Chandler. She would have preferred to sit next to Gar, but he’d settled beside Devlin, and Midas had immediately claimed the place on Gar’s other side.

  “Before we begin, there are a few things that need clarifying.” Chloe paused, waiting for everyone’s full attention. Her gaze went to Brooklyn. “Gar’s not only here as a witness. He’s here to lend us the strength of his magic. If we are to succeed, we must all accept him as if he were a member of the Circle. Understood?”

  Brooklyn rolled her eyes. “I get it.”

  Chloe turned to Gar. “I’m counting on you to do everything I ask without question.”

  He nodded. “Within reason.”

  Em hid a smile behind her hand. Yup, still the rebel. He’d follow the rules and commands of the pack. But, when it came right down to it, he was as self-guided and wary as a lone wolf—something she definitely related to and admired.

  Chloe blinked at Gar like she was trying to decide how to react to his answer. After a second, she plastered on a smile and continued as if his comment hadn’t bothered her. “Now that we have that settled, let’s get going.” She picked up a brass-bound box the size and shape of a toaster from beside the laptop. It was the box that had previously housed Merlin’s crystal. “I’ve decided to incorporate an extra element and step in this search, to strengthen the link between the coven and the crystal.” With a flick of her fingers, Chloe used her magic to open the box’s lid. She took out the nest of dried grass that had served for centuries as packing material for the crystal. Cupping the nest in her hands, she intoned, “Gods and Goddesses, we beseech you, reveal to us the location of the crystal that once called this home. Reveal to us the crystal that bears the blood pledges of our coven. Show us where it is, so that we might bring it home.”

  Chloe held out the nest to Em. She stared at it blankly, uncertain what to do.

  “Take it.” Chloe thrust the nest toward her again. “Channel your magic into it. Repeat my words.”

  The nest felt weightless as Em cradled it in both hands. She brought up her magic as if she were readying to reach out to a spirit. She let her mind relax. The room faded and all she sensed was the delicate texture of the nest against her palms. Her magic hummed in her blood, flooding up her body and into her arms, down toward her fingertips.

  “Gods and Goddesses, we beseech you, reveal…” Chloe prompted.

  Em released her magic into the nest and joined her voice with Chloe’s. “Reveal to us the location of the crystal that once called this home. Reveal to us the crystal that bears the blood pledges of this coven. Show us so that we might bring it home.”

  A warm whirl of energy eddied in her hands, her magic combined with Chloe’s. Another, fainter magic stirred to life, radiating from the nest: Merlin’s magic, a lingering trace of the spells he’d fused into it the day he had placed the crystal in the grass for safekeeping.

  Em trembled as Merlin’s magic prickled her skin, quills of his energy liquefying and flowing into her veins.

  Dazed by the rush, her mind whirred. Her body hummed. Wavering on the border between consciousness and delirium, she turned to her right and placed the nest in Chandler’s waiting hands. She and Chandler repeated the entreaty. Then the nest moved into Brooklyn’s hands, then Midas’s. As Midas passed the nest to Gar, Em’s mind stopped whirring and her senses became surreally sharp. The shadowy light cast by the charcoal fire appeared as brilliant as the midday sun. The noiseless sound of mist drifting in the garden beyond the teahouse walls murmured and swished, as audible as a river. She sensed the press of each seam in her jeans and the rub of her shirtsleeves against her arms. Whether she was right to think Merlin’s magic had left its imprint on her, or if the sensations were the result of some god or goddess who had come to their aid, the effect was profound.

  Chloe reverently set the nest on the altar. Then she sat back on her heels, took off her ever-present charm bracelet, and held it so a pendulum charm dangled freely from the length of the chain. “Now, if everyone will remain silent and channel your magic toward my hand, I’ll begin the next step.” She took a deep breath, then held the pendulum an inch above the laptop’s prone screen and closed her eyes. “Show me where the staff crystal is,” she murmured. “Guide me to it.”

  Em focused her magic and sent it out, ribboning toward Chloe’s hand. The more she concentrated on the ribboning flow, the more she could feel everyone else’s magic meeting, joining, and flowing down into the pendulum. There was no sense of resistance as the pendulum began to swing, fanning over the laptop. It started to circle. Devlin bent forward, his fingers gliding over the touch pad as he enlarged the map from revealing the entire globe to only displaying the continent of North America.

  Once again, the pendulum swung, back and forth. It took longer this time, but eventually it circled, and Devlin adjusted the image on the laptop to reveal a northern portion of the east coast.

  The pendulum stopped circling and hung dead.

  “Show me,” Chloe intoned. “Where is the crystal?”

  Em fisted her hands on her lap. She took a long breath, pulling up what magic she had left. A headache throbbed behind her eyes. Her throat was raw. She could barely sense the power of anyone else’s magic now, except for Gar’s. His magic still burned strong and unrelenting, as steady as a heartbeat, pulsing in time with hers.

  She relaxed her shoulders and hands and closed her eyes, focusing only on the pulse of his magic, letting her energy flow down into the pendulum in time with his.

  After a moment, she sensed the pendulum swinging once more, back and forth, fanning the screen. No resistance. A smooth gentle sway.

  It began to circle.

  “Got it!” Devlin shouted.

  Em’s eyes flashed open, the sense of magic now totally gone.

  She leaned forward, closer to the laptop. An aerial view of a city spanned the screen. A circular parking garage. An alleyway. A flat-topped building.

  “I lost track after we narrowed it down to New England,” Chloe said. “But the building looks familiar.”

  Devlin nodded. “I feel the same way.”

  Everyone squished in closer to the laptop, gathering together.

  “It looks familiar to me too,” Chandler said.

  “The last thing I saw was the seacoast. Maybe it’s in Maine,” Brooklyn suggested.

  Gar sat back. His voice was deep and full of certainty. “I know the building. Your crystal is at the High Council’s New Haven headquarters.”

  Chapter 13

  For you, my sons and daughter, I offer a challenge and a quest.

  Conquer your mother’s people, be a master and ruler in her domain before the fae can get a foothold, and you shall be crowned royal in mine.

  —Challenge set forth by Magna Drilgrath, pater daemonium

  Devlin brought up a street-view of the building. “Oh, man. I can’t believe it.” He turned to Gar, his voice hardening. “You want to call me a liar now about Athena being murdered?”

  “This does raise questions. However, it doesn’t pro
ve anything.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Brooklyn scoffed.

  As everyone jumped to their feet and began to argue, Em folded her arms across her chest and kept her thoughts to herself. Why couldn’t Gar just accept that they were telling him the truth? For that matter, why couldn’t everyone else be nicer to him? He might feel less defensive and give in if they did.

  Gar glared at everyone, the bruises on his face making him look even tougher than usual. “The crystal being there isn’t foolproof evidence. It’s still your word against Rhianna’s.”

  “Dear Goddess.” Chandler slapped her hand against her forehead in frustration. “You’re one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met.”

  “Don’t underestimate how concerned I am about this. I agree, something fishy is going on at the Council.”

  “You can say that again,” Chloe said. “And Rhianna is the one pulling the strings.”

  A small smile twitched at the corner of Gar’s mouth. “Fortunately for us, Rhianna isn’t the only one with friends on the High Council—and neither am I.” He raised his eyebrows at Devlin. “I believe someone’s grandfather isn’t without connections.”

  Em tucked her hands in her pockets, struggling to resist the urge to expose the flaw in Gar’s logic. But it had to be said. “If you’re so sure about these so-called friends and connections, then why didn’t any of them mention your haunting or object to you being sent to investigate the Circle?”

  “That is strange,” Gar admitted. “It’s also one of several questions that I should be able to answer once I find out whose office the crystal is in.”

  “You mean when we discover where it is,” Chloe said flatly.

  “It’s better if I do this by myself. I’ll look for the crystal right after my meeting.”

  “Unlike you”—Chloe’s voice toughened—“I can locate it in a second, as long as you get me inside.”