Casters Series Box Set

by Norah Wilson

  “John Smith’s bringing what broken glass he has. We have to hope those blue stones are in it. For now, we use the quartz.”

  “And if they’re not in the glass Smith brings?” Alex asked. “What if someone else has them? And really, crows and wind? How much glass could possibly have flown away with either?”

  Maryanne didn’t answer. She set the blue quartz in place on the ice-etched Madonna’s face. They didn’t fit perfectly. They didn’t look right, and they didn’t settle into place like the other crystals had, but rather just lay there on top of it.

  The only sound was a slight shifting sound. A crunch from the picture set within the ice.

  Chapter 30

  Thin Ice

  Maryanne

  Maryanne lay the last crystal in place just as the sun set completely. It was a very small piece of red carnelian and it fit with the many other bits of red carnelian and a few red jaspers to form the almost liquid-looking red blood at the mother’s feet as she walked through the thorns with her Jason.

  With her baby, Maryanne corrected herself. This wasn’t Jason, her little brother. J-bug was at peace. Kelly and Skip Hemlock, Maryanne’s parents, wouldn’t lose another child. She wouldn’t do that to them. No way would Maryanne let that happen, no matter what.

  Maryanne lifted her caster hand from the ice and turned it every way as she looked it over. So dark it was empty. According to John Smith, this was the night the hunters were coming to the caves on Hants High Mountain.

  Where would Maryanne, Alex, and Brooke be when they came to this particular cave?

  “Who will we be when they get here?”

  And this time Maryanne didn’t even care that she had spoken out loud.

  Bryce of course couldn’t hear her. As close as he dared, he stood by the pond’s edge, yet back from it. He looked as frightened as ever to be so close to the place where he’d almost died. But there was a different edge to the fright in his eyes now. He was scared this wouldn’t work. And when he looked Maryanne’s way, she could feel the weight of his sorrow, his yearning. Yes, his love.

  Another reason why this had to work. Maryanne and Bryce had barely just worked through the bad stuff from this past year to reach a new level in their relationship. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d made a new start. A sweet, precious start. Her throat ached as she thought about how awesome it had been between them before Brooke had broken that window and locked them all out. Her heart lit up every time she saw him stride into view, and she knew it was the same for him too. She loved how he couldn’t wait to see her every evening to tell her about his day. To fold her into his arms. And she would press her ear against his chest and listen to the pounding of his strong, wonderful heart. She wouldn’t be wrenched from him now. She refused.

  She thought again about Vesta’s verses. They had them now, all four of them. And they would follow them the best they could. But would they follow them home? Parts of the verses were still a mystery to Maryanne.

  Water blessed can make one well

  But doesn’t last long, before back to hell

  Fly with the silver, cry with the gleam!

  Not from the river, ocean, or stream.

  This pond had to be the water blessed with its holy, loving picture. It wasn’t from a river, ocean, or stream. And as the days grew hotter and the sun gleamed down, it wouldn’t last long. The casters would fly with the silver. Maryanne glanced to the sky once more in search of the full moon.

  One who watches over and one who watches out.

  One who knows the stories is one who has the doubt.

  Two have the power; but there may be more!

  Hurry, when she sees you, go through the door.

  John Smith watched over them. She had a pretty good feeling who else watched over. She glanced at Bryce again. But two had the power? Maryanne shuddered to think. What two? Which two? Oh wow, what power? And what if there was more…did it mean there wasn’t power enough for three?

  And the door…she still didn’t know what to make of that. Would she in time? Would any of them? Hurry when she sees you. Maryanne looked again at the blue quartz eyes. They were trying hard yet were so out of place in the picture on the ice.

  Two hold the power! Ring-of-rosy goes around!

  Ashes to ashes, do you dare fall down?

  The very first portal—the child and the mother

  It’s a portal blessed like no other.

  They had dared fall down—back down—into the church vault. That had very likely saved them from the hunters. Was that all it meant? Or did it too refer to the original glass window back in Harvell House? That picture of Mother and child.

  And now…

  Into the water, out goes the flame

  Dark, empty flying ones, you’ll never be the same.

  Race before they get you, when the moon is high, aglow!

  Some may know the legend, but there’s more the legend knows.

  Into the water, out goes the flame. Yes, they’d go there into the water where flames just die. Maryanne could not imagine after all they’d experienced ever being the same again.

  But of all the lines—those understood, and those remaining a mystery—the last line of the last verse bothered her more than any other.

  They think they know the legend but there’s more the legend knows…

  What the heck was that supposed to mean!?

  “There’s John Smith.”

  Maryanne looked to where Alex indicated. She had been so deep in the verses, she hadn’t heard his truck climbing the mountain trail. Winded from the hike up from where he’d had to abandon the truck, he trudged closer, a burlap bag slung over his shoulder. It didn’t look large or heavy.

  Not nearly large or heavy enough.

  Alex moaned. “There can’t even be half the broken glass in there.”

  “It’ll be enough,” Maryanne said.

  “And if it’s not?” Brooke asked.

  Maryanne hadn’t noticed her emergence from the cave. Now she soared up beside her.

  “It will be,” Maryanne said, in a no-room-for-arguing tone. It wasn’t that there was no room to argue. There was no point.

  It had to be enough.

  John Smith looked more worried than frightened as he set the bag down by the pond’s edge, close to where the three casters hovered. He also looked all the more determined, like a soldier on the front lines. But he didn’t look at Maryanne, Brooke, or Alex. He was staring at Bryce Walker. The two men looked at each other with grim acknowledgement.

  They each stood with the Hellers; not a safe place to stand in Mansbridge.

  “You look a lot like your grandfather,” Smith said.

  Bryce acknowledged him with a nod. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “I knew you were seeing Maryanne Hemlock. I thought you might be helping. Someone had to be. Someone had to know.”

  “You mean someone else.” The penny-covered glove, missing a few more coppers now, lay balled up by the pond’s edge. Bryce jerked his head toward it. “That was good thinking.”

  The men stared at each other in an allying moment. Or maybe it was sizing up moment.

  Ira Walker had been the ultimate, renowned Heller hunter in Mansbridge. The Walker name carried the legacy. John Smith had clearly been helping the Hellers, but there was more in this exchange. Did Smith look at Bryce and see a reminder of the man who’d been the bane in Vesta’s life?

  Finally, Smith turned from Bryce. “This is all of it,” he said, indicating the bag on the ground. “All that was left of the window. The bits that were big enough to grab.”

  Maryanne’s heart sank. In the cave, she grasped the hagstone more tightly.

  John went on, “The Kosnicks were leaving at dusk. I heard that from Patricia at the house. And again from Roger Mann at the garage. They didn’t call me to come this time. Not after last night when I tried to stop them from setting fire to the church. They…suspect.”

  Maryanne winced with the implication.
Poor John Smith!

  “There’ve always been rumors that someone was trying to help the Hellers,” Smith said. “And now, since I tried to stop them from lighting the fire…”

  “And I switched out as much of the ammo as I could,” Bryce said. “Replaced the iron with lead. But I suspected Melissa might have had some iron-spiked shells in her pockets.”

  Smith nodded. “Good thinking.”

  Brooke soared toward Smith, then back to where she’d carved two words in the ground.

  ARSON! ARREST!

  Maryanne hadn’t even seen Brooke grab the copper knife. Now the other girl tossed it down as if in disgust.

  Smith shook his head. “The police won’t be looking to arrest anyone,” he said. “They’re with the rest of the town on this. They think the Hellers set the fire. So do the firefighters who were on the scene. That’s what they were told. Even if they didn’t believe it, at this point it doesn’t matter. The whole damn town is out to get you three after what happened to Eustace.” He looked straight at Alex. “The doctor had to give him something. He wouldn’t stop screaming otherwise. The hunters are coming tonight, and they’re bringing torches and iron chains. They’re primed with hate, intent on capturing you, tying you down, burning you alive. And they’ll be here soon.”

  Maryanne, Brooke, and Alex looked at each other in turn. They slowly rose, simultaneously, and without saying a word, the casters began their slow, clock-wise movement. This time, they did so over the pond. Higher and higher over the pond as a cool breeze began.

  “They’re coming tonight, bringing torches and iron chains,” Alex repeated John’s words.

  “Coming to burn us alive,” Maryanne said. “Send us back to hell. They’ll never stop now. Too much has happened. Melissa will never stop, none of the Kosnicks will.”

  “Not now! Not ever,” Brooke said. “More hunters will come.”

  “We have to get back into our bodies!” Maryanne stopped as she looked at the sky. “We have to fly with the silver. When the moon rises, we have to be ready!”

  And best they could, they would be. She pointed down to the burlap bag, and Bryce jumped into action. He manipulated it open and it fell from his hands.

  The three casters lowered slowly, circling all the way down.

  Maryanne had intended to search through the crushed and broken glass. But as Smith and Bryce held the bag open, a sudden strong gust of wind caught the bag and blew it right out of their hands. The glass—shards, pebbles, and powdery dust—hit the ice. Before anyone could react, the wind was scattering the stained glass debris, spreading the bits and pieces all over the surface, north, south, east, and west! Heading in every direction as if each were pulled into the perfect place.

  And then the ice crunched again, not louder, but longer. This time, it was an embracing sound, somehow. The precious tiny bits of glass continued to swirl and find their individual places. That’s when Maryanne realized it wasn’t just the wind. Yes, that was part of it, but so were the casters themselves as they circled above, adding their energy to this powerful movement.

  The ice was now covered in glass from the window. The lady and her child looked positively alive. The portrait shone in the night, illuminated from above by the full moon.

  Almost all of it.

  Part of it was dull and dead. Those stones that had been the Madonna’s eyes as she’d looked from the window of Harvell House into the Mansbridge night, as she’d looked into the attic to see those who’d needed out. As she’d looked for those who would return time and time again.

  Those stones were missing

  “The eyes.” Alex groaned. “The blue quartz isn’t working. But she has to see us! Hurry when she sees you…it’s her! She has to see us!”

  Brooke soared away from the sisterly circle they had spun above the ice.

  Chapter 31

  But What if There’s One More…

  Brooke

  Brooke raced into the cave.

  Clearly pissed, Alex called after her to get her ass back there.

  This wouldn’t take long. She moved to the back of the cave where their bodies waited. Brooke looked down at her looking-back original in a lonely exchange between both consciousnesses. “I’m sorry.” The thought reverberated through both her cast and body.

  She reached a dark hand to the pale white hand lying clenched on top of the sleeping bag. It had taken every effort her original could manage over the last three days to keep that hand fisted, especially when Bryce had propped her up while she cried. So many times her cast had flown into the cave alone to fortify that grip.

  The penny-covered glove was outside by the pond. So were all the copper mesh they’d used over the last few days to make manipulating things a little easier. She’d dropped the knife to the ground. Brooke glanced at the other items in the now-dwindled pile of copper in the cave. Somehow she knew she didn’t need any of them as she untwined her original’s fingers to pick up the small objects within. She knew: it wasn’t just that she didn’t need the copper now, but she hadn’t needed it all along. Even the cup she’d made out of the copper bracelets to pick these items up out of the broken glass at Harvell House hadn’t been necessary. She realized that now.

  She plucked the solid blue globes from her original’s hand, but she didn’t close her caster hand around the two objects. She looked at them both.

  She knew what she had to do.

  The Madonna’s eyes from the stained glass window of Harvell House. She’d always known they weren’t made of stained glass, but of something special. Something compassionate. Love that filled her with longing. Longing to escape the pain of her world—I want out! And always welcomed her back home, fortified, to take on the world again—I want in.

  But Brooke hadn’t just known they were special. She’d known they were absolutely key, and that was why she’d gone back for them. That’s why she’d risked so much for Alex and Maryanne on the day Melissa Kosnick had found her outside Harvell House and nearly clocked her with that iron poker. Brooke had gotten Maryanne and Alex into this mess, she’d get them out of it. She would have done anything to get these stones.

  No matter the cost to her.

  That’s why she hadn’t told them she had them. They’d have argued that final point—no matter the cost to her.

  She trusted Bryce now. John Smith. It was time. She didn’t have to hide them anymore.

  And though it broke her heart, now she trusted herself to do just what she had to do.

  As she reached the cave’s exit, Alex and Maryanne soared up to her.

  “What do you have in your hand?” Maryanne pointed to her closed grip.

  “Show us,” Alex commanded.

  What could she say to stop them?

  Turned out she didn’t have to say a thing.

  Smith raced into the cave. He looked frantic, his eyes wide with panic, the cell phone clutched in his hand. “I heard them! The hunters! They’re close. I thought they’d start with the lower caves. I thought we’d have time. We have to move the bodies. Now!”

  Chapter 32

  Now I Lay Me Down To Weep

  Alex

  Whatever Brooke held in her hand, she clenched all the more possessively. Her fist looked like a solid black hammer.

  Alex couldn’t worry about that now. Actually, she could, and would, but she just didn’t have the time to fight over it.

  “We have to move the bodies! Now!” John Smith’s words echoed through the cave, and took on even more weight as Bryce rushed to the entrance.

  He looked wild, disheveled. Scared shitless. He and John Smith took one look at the casters, then ran for the bodies at the back of the cave.

  Alex felt John’s rough embrace as he scooped her up and ran for the exit.

  “Omigod!” Brooke cried. “If the hunters see our bodies, they’ll take our bodies. To the hospital or—”

  “And they’ll know that casters—the Hellers—were here,” Maryanne said frantically. “The copper in this
cave. They’ll think we did this to…us! And the pond! They’ll destroy it. You know they will. They always do!” While Bryce carried out her body, Maryanne’s cast stopped cold. Her voice turned to flint. “Vesta’s grimoire. I won’t let them have it.”

  Maryanne unearthed it from the last of the kyanite where she’d stowed it no more than an hour ago. With a hurried swat, she knocked the tray aside.

  Whoa, wait a minute! How was she doing that? Why didn’t her hand go through the wood? The hagstone…it had to be working both ways.

  Maryanne soared up to the roof of the cave. She tucked the small book in the crevice where the knife had been, hiding it out of sight.

  Maryanne shot back down and then all three went to Brooke’s body.

  “Grab hold,” Alex commanded. She went to Brooke’s shoulders, Maryanne went to her feet, and, with one fist still clenched, Brooke grabbed her own original around the middle.

  They lifted on the count of three. Or rather tried to.

  It felt as if they were lifting lead. Dead weight.

  They needed rest! The casters were depleted and so damnable heavy from their work in the sucking sun. Even with the three of them lugging Brooke, it was almost too hard.

  The conversation wasn’t any easier.

  “If they catch Bryce here, they’ll know he helped us, helped the Hellers!” Maryanne said.

  “John too,” Brooke said. “He’ll be in just as much trouble with the hunters. The whole town!”

  “Oh shit! Move!” Alex shouted.

  They redoubled their efforts and made their way to the door. Bryce turned to see them and was there in a flash. He grabbed Brooke from their arms and carried her to the pond’s edge.

  And though Alex’s original had heard the growing wind as John had carried her and felt the sudden shift of air on her body as he held her by the near-perfect ice, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as her caster vision took in the moonlit scene.