Of Flame and Light: A Weird Girls Novel

by Cecy Robson

  Death has a way of uniting. Horror can have the same affect. Fear does something altogether different. Add anger to the mix and fuel it with the need for vengeance, and a coven has all it needs to call upon the elements.

  The clouds gather from the distance, forming a dark gray canvas over the circle the coven creates. Everyone is looking down at their sacred earth except for Vieve who stares up to darkening heavens. I’m standing too far away to see her eyes, but not so far that I can’t see the features of her porcelain and flawless face. The fury she felt toward me and at finding her sisters mutilated, culminates close to the surface and brews deep inside her. She uses it to feed her magic, draw from her sisters’ strength, and cast the perfect spell.

  There’s no thunder or flashes of lightning splitting the sky. There’s only ink black clouds that weep the unshed tears of the stronger witches and mourn with those unable to stifle their pain. Even from where we wait by Aric’s SUV, I can hear a large number sobbing.

  Vieve has returned to the Genevieve I’m most familiar with. The one with quiet composed power, who’s beauty is only rivaled by her wrath. Rain, in large sad drops, sprinkle against my face as Aric leads Celia into his Explorer. By the time he shuts her safely inside, my hair and clothes are completely soaked. But I can’t bring myself to leave.

  I wasn’t allowed or invited into the circle. Not that I expected to be after what I did. And while I respect their decision, I confess, I’m really upset.

  I wasn’t close to any of the witches Savana has killed. Nor do I believe any of them particularly liked me. But I valued certain things about them: That they had a right to live, and they didn’t deserve what was done to them.

  Aric positions himself beside Koda who carefully holds Shayna against him. From the back of Aric’s ride, Alice presses her face against the window, watching me through the glass. Emme waits quietly beside Bren. I think she’s crying, despite her lack of connection to the coven. But Emme always feels for others, even when they don’t feel enough for themselves.

  The weres from the Pack gather near their cars, some still in beast form, while others form an arc, quietly observing the witches.

  Smoke rises as the rain begins to fall in sheets, washing away the remains of my fire. Everything is so messed up. I only wish I could make it right. God, I just want to make it right.

  I’m so caught up in everything I did, and all that’s coming, I don’t hear Gemini approach me. But I feel his presence even before he speaks.

  “Come with me,” he says. I look up at him, unsure what he’s asking. “Please.”

  I follow him away from what remains of the house and down the road that leads out of the compound. It’s a long walk, but in the rain, it feels even longer.

  He stops beneath a canopy of trees that were somehow spared from Firestorm Taran. I’m soaked to the bone, but I’m too numb to feel the cold and too sickened to care.

  Water trails along his temples as he turns to face me, his wet shirt clinging to his chest. He probably has a lot on his mind, but I don’t wait for him to speak.

  “This was a really bad day.”

  “It was,” he admits, hanging his head.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. I lift my hand to motion around me, but I barely manage to raise it above my hip.

  “I know you are, Taran.”

  I purse my lips. “So what happens now?”

  “Now we mourn as one,” he says. “As beasts we’re not exempt from pain nor can the witches use their magic to completely shield themselves from it. But our grieving will be brief. There’s no time to waste.” He glances back to where his Pack waits. “Aric and Genevieve have called a truce. We’ll be working together to bring Savana down.”

  “A truce,” I repeat. I meet his face, unable to lessen the bite to my tone. “From a potential war that I started.” I only say it because I know that he won’t.

  He doesn’t exactly deny it. “We couldn’t abandon you. Not when you’re the sister of the Pack Leader’s mate, and especially not being who you are to me.”

  His last words become my undoing. I try and push the misery aside. But I’m so touched he stood by me, my words release in an unsteady breath. “And who am I to you?” I ask.

  His features harden to steel. “You know who you are,” he answers.

  Sometimes I think I do, like when he kissed me earlier, and when he rose to my defense. But when he turns from my arm—when I appear to disgust him, all that I believe dissolves into doubt.

  Maybe he senses as much, averting his gaze briefly. “I know you think I’m here for Genevieve, and at first I was, for Pack business. But the moment your arm turned against you, and I knew what you were facing, I couldn’t leave.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t leave you, Taran. No matter how much you wanted me to.”

  A lump builds in my throat, but when his finger trails beneath my chin and draws my focus, the lump expands and I can taste the start of my tears. “Genevieve is a friend. And because she’s a friend, she allowed me to stay, even after the business between my Pack and her coven was done.”

  “She wanted more than friendship from you,” I remind him, unable to hold back.

  Gemini’s stare travels across my face, searching for something beyond what I say. “She may have wanted more,” he admits. “But my wolves and I belong to you. We have since the moment we saw you, and you captured our souls with a mere glimpse from your eyes.”

  My visions blurs. It’s hard to hear what he has to say, but maybe it’s hard for him to say it, too. He speaks of love, but love can really fucking hurt.

  For a long moment, we simply take each other in, but when the silence becomes too much, he finally speaks.

  Yet I hate what he has to tell me.

  “The coven and Pack have always believed that many will join the evil that’s rising. If Savana is one of these many, than the evil is emerging faster than we anticipated, placing Celia and her child at great risk.”

  The evil that’s rising is something I constantly think about and something we all concurred will eventually arrive. But to learn that it could be happening now, and that my pregnant sister is in immediate danger . . . Jesus Christ, she doesn’t deserve this. Not after all she’s been through, and not now that her baby is thriving.

  “So the threat voiced through the severed head could have been directed at Celia, in addition to the coven and Pack?” As if on cue, the rain increases in severity, forming deep puddles.

  “We have to assume as much, especially with the amount of power Savana’s amassed.” He crosses his arms. “Makawee is close to finishing the wards around the house where Celia is supposed to spend her last few weeks of her pregnancy, and give birth. But after everything that’s happened, Aric wants her there as soon as possible.” He waits, then adds. “And I want you there with her.”

  “Why?” My question comes out before I can be more specific.

  He frowns. “Because you’ll be safe there, and because she’ll want you with her.”

  I lift my arm. “But she might not be safe around me,” I remind him.

  “Aric will be with her to protect her,” he says in a way of an answer.

  I straighten as the rain begins to decrease in severity. The witches are almost finished, which means our talk is almost done. “And where will you be?”

  “I will be leading the Pack.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “As Second in Command, it’s my duty.”

  “No, it’s Martin’s and Makawee’s duty as Elders,” I counter. No way in hell do I want him to be a part of this, despite knowing his obligations as a Guardian of the Earth.

  “With everything that’s coming, Martin is needed elsewhere. And with Celia’s safety being our primary concern, Makawee needs to be at her side.”

  The way he speaks doesn’t leave room to argue, neither do the eruption of howls from the direction of the fields.

  It’s a mournful song that honors the dead and grieves their loss. “It
’s a show of respect for the coven,” he explains, despite that I’ve heard them howl this way too many times to count.

  I expect him to howl with them in that thunderous and distinct voice his wolves give him. Instead he waits quietly beside me.

  This is our goodbye. I know it is, yet I can’t bring myself to tell him.

  Aric’s Explorer rolls to a stop beside us moments later. If I’m expecting a hug or a kiss it doesn’t come. Gemini turns away, walking toward the rear of the vehicle to speak to Aric when he jumps out. He doesn’t glance back, even when it’s clear our conversation is over.

  Alice shifts in her seat to allow me in when I open the door. Celia turns around from the front, her beautiful face plagued with worry and sadness. “Are you all right?”

  I don’t respond. I can’t. It’s not that I’m numb. It’s more like I’m feeling everything at once. My senses are on overload, overpowering me.

  Alice’s hand finds my zombie limb when it involuntarily jerks, the bony prominences of her knuckles crunching when they squeeze. “Ergh?” she asks.

  She’s letting me know she understands the danger that’s coming, and that she’s scared. I don’t know why I choose to answer her and not Celia. Maybe because regardless of all Celia’s fear, Alice isn’t as strong. She’s fragile, and growing worse. “It’s really bad,” I admit.

  Aric throws open his driver’s side door seconds later, glancing briefly my way. He doesn’t say anything, but his disappointment is palpable. I don’t have to wonder why he feels the way he does. I already know because I’m feeling it, too. He thinks I should have said more to Gemini.

  Celia strokes his arm, halting him in place before he can place the SUV in gear. “What is it love?” he asks when she hesitates.

  “I need to call Misha, and tell him what’s happening,” she explains. His brows tighten at the mention of our favorite master vampire’s name, not that it stops Celia from continuing. “He and the vampires stand to lose as much as everyone else. They’ll help. I know they will.”

  “Only if it means their hides,” he responds.

  “They’ll help for other reasons,” she reminds him quietly.

  Yes, they will. Because just like with Aric, Celia is Misha’s one weakness. I never quite understood their friendship, and I doubted its genuineness more times than I can count. Until the day Celia almost died and Misha proved how much he loves her.

  “Aric,” she says when he growls. “He has to know.”

  He shifts the SUV into gear. “Fine. I’ll call him.”

  “I think it will be better coming from me.” She sighs when he adds a snarl.

  “No. You’re staying out of this,” he says.

  “I’m already in it,” she responds.

  Her voice remains calm, yet there’s more to her thoughts that go unsaid. Aric acknowledges as much when his focus wavers from her face to her belly, even though it seems he tries to fight it. “All right,” he says.

  I’m not surprised that Aric gives in. He may hate Misha, but he loves Celia and their baby more.

  I think it’s all that love behind his decision that triggers the kick to the ass I need to act. That, and the way his Explorer jerks when he stomps on the gas.

  “Aric, wait,” I say, unsnapping my seatbelt. “I need to get out.”

  He eases to a stop, turning to face me. I don’t wait for him to ask what’s wrong. I throw open the door and race toward the sacred garden.

  I’m not sure where Gemini is, I only know I need to find him.

  My bonnet flies off my head as I sprint alongside the caravan of cars stuffed with weres. The rain isn’t as heavy as it was, but the light showers that fall sting my skin as I run. By the time I’m almost to the end of the car line, I’m covered with mud from the waist down.

  “Tomo,” I call. “Tomo!” I use his given name knowing if he’s close, he’ll hear me and be more willing to respond. At least, that’s what I hope. After all the times we’ve pushed each other away, I don’t know what to think anymore.

  I reach the last vehicle, an SUV with large tinted wheels. As it pulls away, I catch sight of what remains of the garden.

  My right side clenches in agony, I dismiss it as pain from the run and take in the battered and blackened soil. The witches are gone. There’s no one here, but their magic and mourning falls within each drop of rain that pelts my skin.

  I whip around as if pulled, my legs almost buckling when I see Gemini standing a few feet away, the downpour of rain that suddenly begins, drenching his hair and weighing it down. I stumble toward him and stop, and then stumble toward him again. It’s not that I don’t want to be with him, it’s more like I no longer want to know life without him.

  And yet because of too many mistakes on my part, and everything he’ll risk during the hunt, there’s a chance I’ll lose him, and be denied the life I want with him.

  My affected arm quivers. If he notices, he doesn’t react, even when I cradle it against me and it begins to glow. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice heavy and his focus intense.

  It takes me a moment to force the words out. Not that they come out in the way I intend. “I want to say goodbye to you—not like how you’re thinking,” I add quickly when he bows his head.

  “Then how should I think?” he asks.

  “I want you to come to my place,” I manage. “Tomorrow. At sunset.”

  His dark eyes scan my features as if searching for a clue to what his crazy ex-girlfriend, who blew up an ancestral mansion and seven fields, and caused a major riff between were and witch could be up to this time.

  “Please say you’ll come,” I say. “I want to . . . I want to make things right.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Son of bitch.

  I jump when the tiny votive candle explodes. I should have known better than to try to light it with my hand. I just had a little bit of time and, I don’t know, I suppose I wanted to feel normal.

  Normal means good in my world. Normal can even border on boring. But boring isn’t so bad, in fact, boring can be fan-freaking-tastic. It doesn’t involve murder, mayhem, and overall fucked up-ness.

  I rub my side, where that awful ache that’s been growing gives me another twinge of pain, and take in the mess. Small pieces of glass lay near my stiletto-clad feet. I frown a little, noting that some of the pieces appear melted.

  Shayna pokes her head out from the sliding glass doors leading into the kitchen. “How’s it going, T?” she asks.

  “Fine,” I say, ignoring the buzzing sound from my arm. But as I reach for the broom and pan I used to sweep the deck, the ache on my side builds, giving me pause. Shayna doesn’t seem to notice. She bounces toward me and takes both from my hands.

  “Here,” she says, grinning and adding a wink. “You look too sexy to be sweeping anything up.”

  “Thanks,” I say, dropping my hand away from my side and hoping she’s right.

  As the ache recedes, I run my fingers through my wavy tresses. Shayna had to add layers to my hair after I fried it during my first Plant Day fiasco. They’re finally starting to grow out and blend with the longer strands that survived the incident. Except they’re still shorter than I’m used to, adding an extra bit of “big” to my already “big hair”. I spent an hour styling it, hoping I managed elegance instead of just plain “Jersey”.

  The skirt of my shapely red dress skims above my knees as I walk across the deck to fiddle with the sheer fabric that make up the edges of the canopy. It took me and my sisters most of the morning to set up this makeshift tent, and I worried too many times that it would rain and ruin the setting I was attempting to create. But by noon the clouds had cleared, bringing the warmth of the late June sun and easing at least that one worry aside.

  Not that I’ve stopped worrying. In addition to stressing over Gemini’s arrival, and what will happen while he’s here, something feels off.

  I move toward the center of the deck. We barbecue out here almost year-round, its l
arge size allowing us to move around and enjoy the spring when the first signs of warmth trickle in, the heat the summer brings, the colorful fall foliage, and the blanket of white that follows each winter storm. It’s a great place to entertain and share a few laughs, but tonight I want it to be more intimate, a small little world to escape to where we’re safe, even for a brief pocket of time.

  Like the tablecloth, the sheer fabric and plates are white, as are the candles placed along the railing and in centerpiece filled with wild flowers. It’s going to be perfect.

  Maybe.

  God, I hope so.

  At the very least, we’ll have a good meal.

  Thanks to Koda’s earlier trek through the forest, I’m roasting a large chunk of venison stuffed with quinoa, pine nuts, mint leaves, and sundried tomatoes. It’s Gemini’s favorite and the last great meal I made him before our relationship turned into what it became.

  I don’t realize how I appear until Shayna dumps the broken glass into the waste can behind me and pulls me into her thin arms. “Don’t be sad, T,” she says. “Boyfriend’s going to love this.”

  I want to tell her that I’m not sad, at least about how the deck looks. But I’m too sad about everything else to try to deny what she sees.

  “You look beautiful,” she says, releasing me to fluff my hair. “The dress, the shoes, everything is perfect.”

  “Thank you,” I say, walking away from her slowly.

  My fingers trail over the pretty gold and delicate holly embellishments on the front of my dress. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t wear a dress like this on such a warm night and so far away from the Christmas holidays. But it’s sexy, the off the shoulder design exposing my deep olive skin while the long sleeves cover my arms.

  I place my right hand on the tablecloth as I adjust the silverware, pressing my lips tight when I see how it blends in with the linens.

  It’s white . . . pure white like the tablecloth and napkins, and maybe not as sickly in appearance as I used to believe. I entertain the thought of adding gloves, but decide against it. For tonight, and for always, it is what it is, and just needs to be.