Things She's Seen

by Pat Esden

  Her hold on consciousness crumbled.

  “Listen,” Saille’s voice snarls. “Listen for once in your damn life.”

  Em stands backstage at the Royal Palm Playhouse. In the wings.

  Gar’s voice comes from on stage, reciting Prospero’s lines from The Tempest, “… poisonous slave, got by the devil himself upon thy wicked dam, come forth!”

  Caliban appears. He swaggers to a mound of Rhianna’s body parts in the middle of the stage. He draws a triangle around them, bearing down hard with his pencil until the graphite line is thick and sparkles gold. He places a yellow diamond on one corner of the triangle, another diamond on the second corner. He takes a third from his pocket, studying it. It’s cracked and flawed but glistens faintly under the spotlight.

  Three diamonds. Yellow diamonds. Triangles.

  Em struggles to hold the symbols in her mind. She needs to remember them. Symbols are important. Triangle. The symbol of the Goddess. Solomon’s Seal. Her aunt gave her a book to study symbols. It’s important knowledge for psychics. Triangle. The symbol of fire. The symbol of earth, of air, of water. Pentagram. The valknut.

  As Caliban bends to place the last diamond, he turns and leers at her.

  Em’s stomach tenses. Something awful is going to happen. She can’t let him finish the ritual.

  She races on stage. She pushes her legs to run, but the distance widens, growing greater and greater. She’s not on stage anymore. She’s in a cemetery, and Rhianna’s spirit is rising out of a grave. The veins on her hairless head pulse and glow bright blue against her paper-white skin. Her eyes are misshapen caverns. Caliban towers over her.

  “No!” Em screams.

  “Listen to me,” Saille’s voice whispers in her head, a soft echo, as if she’s withdrawing, like a runaway child sneaking home before their absence is discovered. “Caliban.”

  “Caliban,” Em mumbled as she swam out of the vision, her consciousness creeping back. “Caliban. Triangle. Diamond.”

  Strong muscular arms surrounded her, scooping her up and clutching her close. Gar. His chest was warm and sizzled with magic. His neck smelled like moss and evergreens. His camo cap sat low over his eyes. He was cradling her close and walking quickly, like he had back when he’d helped her into the river to cool her overheated mind and body.

  He nudged the bill of his cap up, then stroked her hair back from her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Caliban,” she slurred. It was important that she didn’t forget.

  She blinked her eyes open and her surroundings wavered into focus. Gar was carrying her away from the truck and through a small garage. The walls glowed with chalked sigils. Two tarp-covered motorcycles sat next to a wall. The outline of metal lockers darkened a corner. But it wasn’t exactly a garage. Corrugated tin walls. Concrete floor. She’d spent the night with people who lived or had illegal businesses in places like this, people who could change their identities and vanish at a moment’s notice.

  “Storage unit?” she asked, to be sure she’d guessed right.

  “We’re changing cars.” Gar toted her out of the unit to an older passenger van with windows all around. It was covered in dust, like it had been in storage for a while. The rear was jam-packed with duffel bags, pillows, a sleeping bag….

  “Johnny?” she mumbled, her tongue still barely able to form words. She had a vague memory of a similar pile of stuff in the back of Johnny’s truck all those years ago. Back when he’d given her his pseudonym instead of his real name.

  “You never know when a rock-solid alias will come in handy,” Gar whispered close to her ear. Then he kissed her cheek gently, and it struck Em that he was oddly relaxed—even more confident than usual, despite the dire situation they were in. Saille’s current absence might have played a part in that, but she suspected it had more to do with his loup-garou and rebel sides being set free.

  As they neared the van, Devlin came around from the other side to meet them. “We were all worried about you, Em,” he said. “Do you know who possessed you?”

  “Saille. There were symbols. Caliban from The Tempest.”

  “The Tempest?” Devlin scratched his head.

  Gar shifted his grip, lowering her to the ground. “Can you stand?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. You can tell us all about the possession once we’re back on the road. We need to get to Saratoga Springs or we’ll never get Saille exhumed.”

  “The exhumation?” Em said. That was what they’d planned on doing after the hearing. It was part of what Saille wanted, too. But how far were they from Saratoga now? More importantly— “How long was I out? Where are we?”

  “We’re just north of New Haven. It’s been fifteen minutes, twenty at the most.”

  Em’s legs wobbled like a ragdoll’s as Gar helped her into the back seat, where Chloe was already belted in and ready to go.

  “We were worried about you,” Chloe said, rubbing Em’s leg. “Are you doing all right?”

  “A little shaky. I’ll be fine.” She slid her hand across the woven seat cover. A pentagram made out of braided grass and small crystals dangled from the van’s rearview mirror. Bundles of bay leaves and moss scented the air. There were even symbols painted on the floor mats. No doubt these things were intended to provide protection, and hopefully make them harder to track. Whatever their purpose, the magic they emitted warmed the air, radiating a sense of security very similar to what she’d felt when she was in Gar’s arms.

  Gar locked up the storage unit, leaving his truck inside. As he and Devlin jumped into the front seats, uneasiness shuddered through Em. She hugged herself against the feeling and cautiously reached out with her magic to see what was causing it. There weren’t any nearby spirits—not even Saille or Athena.

  She shook her head and dismissed the feeling. Of course she was on edge. She was exhausted, and dozens of the most powerful witches on the East Coast were hunting them—or soon would be.

  “When you were out of it”—Chloe glanced at her and grimaced apologetically—“I hope you don’t mind, but I cleaned up your face. But you might want to take off your jacket.”

  “Huh?” Em frowned in confusion. Then she remembered the blood raining down when Rhianna was killed and the speckles all over Chloe. She touched her face. Her skin felt smooth and clean. Not sticky at all. Now that she thought about it, she vaguely recalled the sensation of someone wiping her chin and forehead. But her jacket?

  She wiped her hand down the sleeve of her beautiful new jacket. Her fingers came away tacky. Her stomach lurched. Now that she was paying attention, she could smell it too. The entire coat was splattered with blood, and worse.

  “That’s one of the jackets Keshari’s family sells, isn’t it?” Chloe asked. “Maybe her mother can get it clean.”

  “I couldn’t ask her to do that. It’s too…stained.” Em peeled the jacket off and dropped it on the floor. It had been gorgeous and expensive, one of the nicest things she’d ever worn. But it was totally ruined, and Chandler was going to be pissed.

  “Chloe?” Gar stopped talking as he drove across traffic and onto an interstate ramp. “Why don’t you show Em the video.”

  “Video?” Em took the burner phone Chloe held in her hand. It was similar to her phone, not at all like Chloe’s high-end one.

  “It’s Gar’s secure phone,” Chloe explained. “I transferred the video I took of Rhianna onto this one. We didn’t want the Council to be able to track us, so we left our phones in the truck. Ah—including yours.” An apology shone in her eyes and she swiftly added, “I didn’t take anything else of yours.”

  Now that Em thought about it, she didn’t recall feeling the weight of the phone when she’d taken her jacket off. She smiled at Chloe. “Don’t worry about it. My therapist is the only person who might call. I’d rather not answer than lie to her about what’s going on.�
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  As she thought about her therapist and the halfway house, her aunt passed through her mind. If her aunt had managed to get her address from someone at the halfway house, her phone was probably compromised as well, and a call from her aunt was another one she’d just as soon miss altogether.

  “Look at the video.” Chloe poked her hand. “Unfortunately, I stopped recording before the worst stuff happened.”

  Gar spoke up. “Watch carefully. Tell me if you see anything familiar, from real life, dreams, visions, or whatever.”

  Em angled the phone so she could see the screen more clearly. A ring of candles flickered on the desk, just like she remembered. Rhianna stood with her head bowed, her thin blond hair screening her face. Merlin’s crystal sparkled in her cupped hands, even brighter than the purple jewels that encrusted the etched ring on her middle finger. Behind her, the Vice-Chancellor’s wife stood in the shadows, her hands at her sides and her lips unmoving, nothing to indicate she was working a spell. Rhianna lifted her head and a sneer crossed her lips.

  “Rhianna,” Devlin snarled.

  Her sneer widened into a jackal-like grin. “It’s about time you crawled out of your hole.” She licked her lips. “But it’s too late to save your vile coven. The Northern Circle’s time has run out just about”—her gaze went to a clock on the fireplace mantel—“now.”

  The Vice-Chancellor’s wife cupped her hand to her ear. “Are those cheers I hear coming from the Council Chamber?”

  “Shut up,” Chloe screeched.

  The video ended.

  Em rubbed her lips, thinking back through what she’d seen. She was sure her answer wasn’t what they were hoping for. “Um, I hate to say it, but I didn’t see anything strange. Merlin’s crystal is there. I think Rhianna was wearing the Northern Circle’s signet ring. Is that what you wanted me to see? She’s wearing the ring turned around backward, hiding the Circle’s insignia.”

  Devlin whipped around in his seat, looking at her with undisguised shock. “I hadn’t noticed that. I assumed the high priestess ring was at the complex, in Athena’s jewelry safe.”

  “If you’re right about the ring, that’s pretty damning evidence.” Gar glanced at Em in the rearview mirror. “But it’s not what I wanted you to look at.”

  Em thought again. “I remember the Vice-Chancellor’s wife muttering something like, ‘mote it be, dear Magus.’ It was odd, but that was after the video ended. It was probably just a prayer to her guardian angel.”

  “Could be,” Gar said. “We should keep it in mind, though.”

  Chloe leaned closer and pointed her finger at the phone’s screen. “Watch it again. This time, focus on the window behind Rhianna.”

  Em rolled her shoulders, giving herself a second to regroup. Gar was driving faster now, speeding north on I-91. Once they turned onto I-90, they’d drive right past Westfield, where she’d helped the police find a little girl’s body, skyrocketing her to fame at ten years old. She’d seen wraiths for the first time that day.

  Em grimaced and shook her head, freeing it from that terrifying memory. Why was she thinking about that right now? It was hardly relaxing.

  Taking a deep breath, she started the video again.

  The Vice-Chancellor’s wife stood in the shadows behind Rhianna, just to one side of the window. Outside, something fog-like materialized, the size of a large hand with bony clawed fingers, creeping upward.

  Em stilled the video and stared at it, unblinking. It couldn’t be.

  She touched her cheek, feeling the cut she’d gotten during the craziness. She’d decided it was from a piece of flying glass, but it had felt like claws had scratched her. Bony fingers. Nasty smells and haze. Her subconscious had been trying to tell her. She was looking at a video of a wraith—and she wasn’t far from where she’d seen a pack of them that day when she was ten years old.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Chloe asked.

  A chill shuddered through Em. She nodded, though she wished with all her heart that she could say no. “It’s a wraith’s hand. Fully materialized.”

  Chloe snatched the phone from her, studying the stilled video. “You’re sure it’s a wraith?”

  “I’ve seen them before. Technically, a demonic wraith. Like in the painting at headquarters.” Her breath caught on a gasp as a connection formed between the technical term for the horrifying entity in the video and the vision she’d had during the possession. Wraiths. Demons. Caliban.

  “What is it?” Chloe asked. “Was that what killed Rhianna—a demonic wraith?”

  “Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

  Devlin turned to face her. “I sensed something else in the office. But before I say anything, I want to know what you’re thinking.”

  As disoriented as Em had felt only a short time ago, now her thoughts were clear and confident. Spirits. Wraiths. The dead. These were things she understood. “The thing is, wraiths are filled with bloodlust. But they don’t have the brains or the skills to create even the smallest spell, let alone orchestrate the complex things that happened in that room. But I think I know who—or more precisely what—is controlling them. I’m not talking about the Vice-Chancellor’s wife. Her involvement is secondary.”

  “I’m assuming this has something to do with what Saille’s been showing you?” Gar asked.

  “Exactly.” Em looked toward Devlin. “I know what you sensed. Before I totally blacked out, I heard you say that you felt something that reminded you of Merlin’s Shade. I did too. But it didn’t feel precisely the same.”

  Gar prodded for her to go on. “And the visions?”

  “At one point, I pretty much lived in a theater. I saw The Tempest so many times that I memorized it. There’s one line from the play that Saille keeps repeating: ‘… poisonous slave, got by the devil himself upon thy wicked dam, come forth!’ That line is about the character Caliban’s parentage. His mother was a witch and his father a demon. He was a cambion.”

  Chloe shook her head. “Maybe I’m being dense. I know the play. But how does that connect to what’s going on?”

  “Of course you know.” Em grinned. “Merlin’s father was a demon. Merlin is a cambion, same as Caliban. That’s why the energy Devlin and I sensed felt like Merlin’s Shade. It was cambion magic.”

  Devlin groaned. “I’m willing to bet there’s some connection between this one and Merlin’s Shade.”

  “A connection like Rhianna?” Gar suggested.

  “And how about the Magus that the Vice-Chancellor’s wife mentioned?” Em said. “Magician and Magus are similar titles—as in, Merlin the Magician and Cambion so-and-so the Magus?”

  Chloe paled. “For the love of Hecate, I think you’re right.”

  Em rested back in her seat. Despite how terrifying the situation was, a warm sense of satisfaction settled over her. One thing was for sure: They were headed in the right direction going to Saratoga Springs. Saille wanted someone to prove she was poisoned, and she was warning them that a cambion was somehow involved in the whole tangled mess—perhaps a cambion who went by the title of Magus.

  She turned, looking out the side window at the passing fields and hills. Houses. A church. A gazebo. A park…

  Another car ride surfaced in her mind, one she’d taken over six months ago, in the back of a police cruiser. That night, she’d made a choice to take a new path. Until now, she’d assumed that meant living clean and sober. But it had been more than that. It was also a choice to face what was in front of her instead of running away from it. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d also understood it would make all the difference, for Saille and others as well, the living and the dead.

  It looked like Saille hadn’t lied. Not at all.

  Chapter 20

  I am left crippled by your words,

  an animal cut open and flung to the side of a road,

  discar
ded to spoil and bake in the sun.

  —“Mother” by E. A.

  “Tell your grandfather to bring his dog,” Gar said, taking his gaze off the interstate to glance at Devlin.

  Devlin shifted the phone away from his ear and covered it with his hand. “His dog?”

  “That’s what I said. One hour. Just south of Albany. Ten Birdland Road. With his dog. He has one, right?”

  Em frowned, as puzzled as Devlin about the need for a dog. They’d all agreed that the only way they were going to pull off exhuming Saille and getting her body to the Council for retesting was to have outside help. Zeus was the obvious choice. They could trust him, and the lingering rumors against Zeus would be outweighed by the vested interests the High Chancellor and others had in his business ventures. In turn, Gar had recommended 10 Birdland Road as a secure meeting spot.

  “It’s a veterinarian’s office,” Gar clarified. “The Council could be monitoring Zeus. Just in case, the dog will make his visit look less suspicious.”

  That made sense. However, when they got to Birdland Veterinarian Clinic an hour later, Em found herself puzzled once again. The clinic was in a rambling farm house that looked disturbingly familiar to her. It wasn’t a sense of déjà vu; it was more like how she’d felt earlier, when she’d seen the sleeping bags and supplies piled in the back of Gar’s van. A hazy, almost imagined recognition.

  As Gar pulled up in front of the building and parked next to a silver Volvo, she studied the old building. It probably resembled a house she’d done a reading at as a child.

  “That’s Zeus’s Volvo,” Devlin said, opening his door. “He must already be inside.” He glanced at Chloe. “Are you coming?”

  She shook her head. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to stay here and email copies of the video, along with an explanation, to the Council and everyone in the coven.”

  “Good idea.” Gar undid his seatbelt. “Come get us if you see or sense anything suspicious.”