by Quinn Loftis
“Did you know that a person who continually lives with sleep deprivation is at higher risk for obesity, diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, and impaired judgment? And when the brain is tired, remembering things becomes difficult, and the ability to learn new things also becomes impaired.”
“Are you saying we should sleep? Because I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
“There’s a hotel across the street from the museum,” Z said.
Jewel pressed the palm of her hand into her forehead. It just seemed like there wasn’t enough time. Not enough time for sleep, for problem solving, for getting back to Dalton, not enough time period. But she knew if she didn’t make time for sleep she wouldn’t be able to think clearly.
“Hotel first, then museum,” she said, feeling something loosen in her chest. Sleep. Sleep meant she could dream of Dalton. If that was the only way she got to see him, it would have to be enough. For now.
Jewel saw the Museum of Salem Witch Trials across the street as they pulled into the parking lot of their hotel. The museum looked like an old-world church, constructed of mottled red brick, complete with an arched, heavy oaken-wood door that came to its apex at a sharp point.
It was clear the owners of the charming inn were attempting to capitalize on the popularity of the adjacent museum. The entry of the hotel resembled the facade of a tavern, including a faux thatched roof, at least Jewel hoped it wasn’t real. Now she was worrying about whether a modern day hotel might have a thatched roof. Yep, she was right good and exhausted.
Z and Sly, as usual, secured them two rooms. When they parted ways, the two pairs agreed to meet in the foyer in a couple hours. The museum was only open to 7:00 p.m. and, though they could wait until tomorrow, both the witches and the warlocks were eager to see if their own witch hunt, pun intended, would give them any information.
She and Anna didn’t speak. They walked into the room, set their bags down, and each crawled onto one of the empty beds. Jewel’s head hadn’t been on the pillow longer than a minute when a dream pulled her under.
“Dalton?” His name was the first thing she thought of as looked around. She was back in Peri’s house where she’d stayed with the other healers. The door opened, and she turned to see him walk in. As always, he looked good.
His pale blue eyes stood out against his tan skin. His brown hair was a little longer than it had been since she’d last saw him. She wondered if the real Dalton’s hair had grown, or if her subconscious was simply assuming this small detail for her. As he walked further into the room and nearer to her, his presence seemed to fill the whole space. She forgot how big he was.
“Another dream?” he asked, his lips turning up ever so slightly. “You must really miss me.”
“Do you … does he … miss me?” she asked, and then felt like an idiot for asking the dream Dalton if real Dalton missed her. Gah, she was a dork.
“I do miss you, more than you can probably comprehend,” he answered, taking another step closer.
Jewel’s breath caught. She could feel the heat of his skin as he was mere inches away. How had he gotten so close? Her brain was fuzzy, and it was hard to concentrate when Dalton was rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms. Wait. Why were her arms bare?
Jewel looked down at what she was wearing and felt her cheeks flush. Apparently her dream-self was feeling flirty. She had on a hunter green, sleeveless nightgown that came to her knees. There was nothing particularly revealing about it, and she was sure the green looked great with her hair, but she’d never worn a silky nightgown before. Even her dream-self made her feel like a dork.
“What’s wrong?” Dalton asked.
She shook her head and swallowed back a laugh. “I look ridiculous.” She felt his fingers under her chin as he raised her head until she was looking up at him.
“You do not look ridiculous. You look stunning.”
“So my subconscious is telling myself, through my dream via you, that I’m stunning?” Jewel asked. “I’m pretty sure that I should be institutionalized if I need to give myself compliments through my mate in a dream.”
“I like it when you call me your mate.” Dalton purred.
Jewel was pretty sure most people probably didn’t analyze their dream while they were in the midst of it. Instead, they enjoyed it, or they were terrified, or mad, or whatever emotions the dream evoked. Most likely, they just went with it. Why couldn’t she just go with it?
“Your mind is a wondrous place, Jewel Stone, mate to Dalton Black.”
Jewel sucked in a breath as Dalton disappeared right in front of her. She turned around slowly and bowed her head at the beautiful woman standing near the window. The figure was bathed in a brilliant white light that emanated from the white gown she wore. Her very presence radiated peace, and Jewel wished she could feel that peace all the time.
“Great Luna,” Jewel said and bowed her head. The girl had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say, and yet none of them would come to mind. She was still dumbstruck that the heavenly being had removed her mate and taken his place in the dream.
“I have not forgotten you,” she said in a voice that was both matter of fact and soothing at the same time. “I have been watching you, and I know that you are weary. Do not be afraid to call out to me.”
It was several heartbeats before Jewel finally responded. “I don’t understand why,” she admitted. “Why did I meet him, only to be taken from him? Why did any of us, Anna, Heather, Stella, or Kara, just regular girls, get drawn into any of this? We are supposed to be special, yet I can’t fight off the darkness that is trying to strangle me. Why did any of this happen?” She was crying. She hadn’t meant to cry. It just happened all of a sudden. One minute, she was basking in the Great Luna’s peace, and the next, she was a mess of tears and questions.
“The ‘why’ is not always for you to know,” the goddess said gently. “There is a time for everything in its own season. You are in the season of growing, and growing can be incredibly painful. The only way to stop growing is to cease living. And it is not time for that just yet. No, a new season of life is on the horizon for you, Jewel. During this season, you will be many things, student, mother, and daughter to name a few. But perhaps most importantly, a time will come when you will need to become a warrior. You must use this current season to grow into that person. The transformation will be painful. It cannot be done any other way. There are no shortcuts for growth, and you must not stop until the task is completed. There can be no half measures. Can you imagine what the world would be like if things simply stopped growing halfway through maturity because the process became too painful or overwhelming? Imagine half a car, left to rust because a builder grew tired at his labors. Such a thing wouldn’t travel very well. It couldn’t serve its intended purpose. Imagine the student that completes half of medical school. One cannot be half a doctor.
“Imagine the heartache that comes with half a childhood, cut short by some misfortune. A void is left, a life left half unlived. Such a thing is a tragedy, no?” She paused, and then Jewel felt a hand on her bowed head. “You cannot stop halfway, Jewel. You must finish the race you’ve begun. You must grow and become who I’ve destined you to be. It will hurt, it will be lonely, and sometimes, sometimes, my child, it will be glorious. Dalton is waiting for you. He loves you. He is yours and you are his.”
“What about the bond?” She spit out before she could stop herself.
“The bond is so much more than the ability to speak to another’s minds. I have destined you for one another. Such an act binds you with many strands. If one of those strands is severed, you are still connected. Surely, you know that in your heart. Do not throw away the entire fabric of your relationship because of a small tear. You are made for Dalton, with or without the mate bond.
“Do you not think I could foresee the severing of the mate bond? Do you not think that I would know if you and Dalton were capable of handling such a challenge? You will have to c
hoose to love, even though you won’t feel his mind or spirit within your own. This is another form of growth. Take heart, Jewel Stone. I will never give you more than you can bear. You are weary. I come to give you rest. Sleep.”
And she did.
Magic, dark and thick like oil, was heavy in the air when the four travelers stepped into the Museum of Salem Witch Trials. Jewel could feel the magic coating her skin, and by the look on Anna’s face, her partner could feel it as well.
“So perhaps the witch trials weren’t totally without merit,” Anna murmured.
“Why do you say that?” Z asked.
“You don’t feel it?”
Z looked at Sly and they both shook their heads at the same time, a look of confusion on both faces.
“You’re supernatural beings,” Jewel said. “Shouldn’t you be able to feel the presence of magic?”
“Yes,” Sly said. “We usually do. Why can you feel something we can’t? That’s slightly disturbing.”
“Hello,” a new voice said.
All their heads whipped around at the same time. A short woman wearing an old-fashioned Puritan dress was standing in the archway. Her brown hair was wrapped up in a thick bun on her head. She had a kind face, but something about her grey eyes made Jewel hesitate to speak. She looked over at Anna and saw the same hesitation.
When Sly realized they weren’t going to say anything, he stepped forward and put the charm on thick.
“Good evening, ma’am.” The warlock smiled warmly. “We were hoping to look around a bit, maybe take a tour.”
The woman didn’t answer right away. She was too busy looking between Jewel and Anna. She held her face completely neutral, and Jewel couldn’t read a thing in the woman’s expression, though she was trying desperately to determine if this woman was friend or foe.
“Ma’am,” Sly said again.
Finally, the woman turned her head away from Jewel and Anna and looked at him. “It’s only an hour until we close, and there are no more guided tours today, but you’re welcome to take the unguided or just browse around.”
“That’ll be fine,” Sly answered as he pulled out his wallet. “How much?”
“Five dollars a person.”
“That doesn’t seem like much,” Z offered.
“No, we try to keep the cost as low as possible. It’s important that as many people as possible get to experience such a dark time in our country’s history. We receive local, state, and even federal funding, which helps us keep the cost down.”
Sly pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over. She plopped the money in a cash register and handed over four small brochures.
“You can start in that room.” She pointed to her left. “And follow the arrows from room to room. Mind the stairs when you climb them. They aren’t even. There are some that stick out further than others, so it’s easy to trip.”
She started to turn away but then looked back at Jewel. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, young lady.”
Jewel sat dumbfounded, unable to respond as the woman walked away. Anna stepped close to her and leaned even closer. “Was that weird, or was that weird?” she whispered.
“Twilight zone,” Jewel agreed.
Z and Sly nodded.
“Alright, Wheelers, we’ve obviously come to the right place. There’s definitely some witchy mojo in this building. Let’s get to it. We only have an hour, unless we want to come back tomorrow. And creepy lady really is putting a damper on that idea,” Z said.
Jewel and Anna led the way into the first room. Paintings covered the walls. They were a mixture of simple busts of historical figures to downright gruesome images of women being tortured. There were other things adorning the walls like a rope, tied in a noose, several voodoo dolls, and a large silver pentagram on the largest wall. A brick fireplace held a huge hanging metal caldron, which Jewel thought was a little overkill.
As they moved through the room, the magic seemed to dissipate somewhat. Jewel continued forward with Anna just behind her while the guys brought up the rear. As she moved through the next doorway and into another room, this one larger than the first, she shivered. The temperature felt as if it dropped a good ten degrees.
“Do you feel that?” She turned a little and whispered to Anna.
“It’s freezing all of a sudden,” Anna murmured.
“What are we whispering about?” Sly asked, also whispering.
“Are you cold?” Anna asked him.
Z came into the room, and the visible shiver that rippled through him answered her question. “So you do feel the colder temperature but not the icky magic. Right.” She shook her head and then moved about the room. This room was a library. Built-in shelves, laden with old books, covered each wall and extended to the ceiling, giving the room an illusion of extra height.
“If we don’t find something in here, I’ll eat my broomstick,” Anna said as she and Jewel moved to shelves on opposite sides of the room.
“Z, you take that side, and Sly you take that side over there.” Anna directed as she began skimming the spines of the books with her finger.
Jewel mirrored the girl’s actions with her own books. Starting at the bottom shelf, she began reading the titles on the spines and followed the words with her pointer finger. For some reason, she felt compelled to touch each one, as if the tome with relevant information would send her some kind of magical tactile sensation. Some of the volumes looked as if they’d crumble under the slightest bit of pressure, while others appeared to be brand new.
“Finding anything?” Anna asked from the other side of the room.
“Not yet.”
“I found some books,” Z chimed in.
“Jewel, the next time we are given warlock guards, let’s remember to request ones that don’t think they have a sense of humor.”
Jewel laughed. “I’m sure Volcan would be more than happy to accommodate us.”
“One of these days, you two are going to appreciate the uniqueness that is Z and Sly,” said Z.
“I think you mean Sly and Z,” remarked Sly.
“Well, the order isn’t important, only the awesomeness,” countered Z.
“Excellent point, Z,” said Sly.
“If you two start talking about yourselves in third person, then I might have to go back into the other room and get that noose,” Anna quipped.
“But which one would you use it on?” asked Jewel. “There’s only the one noose.”
“True, and they’re equally annoying. But I’m sure there’s another instrument of torture around here we can use on the second one.”
Jewel started to respond but stopped when her finger landed on a book and, unsurprisingly, she felt a tingle. She kept her finger on the spine, and the book began to grow warm. She tried to pull her hand away, but she couldn’t move it. Instead, she grasped the spin and easily slid the book from the shelf. A layer of dust came off with it, and she coughed as it blew in her face. She looked at the cover and read the title. The True History of Witches.
“What did you say?” Anna asked.
“I was reading the title of this book.” Jewel stood and turned to show the others. They walked over and crowded close, staring at the ancient tome. The book was still warm, and her hands shook as she clutched it tightly.
“Are you okay?” Sly asked.
She nodded. “I just, I don’t know. I feel compelled to open this book, and the feeling doesn’t seem like it’s coming from within. I’ve been persuaded by outside forces before, and it usually ends up being hazardous to my health.”
“At this point, I don’t think there is much of anything that isn’t hazardous to your health,” Z offered. “You are in the business of converting normal women into witches destined to serve a dark fae. Nothing about that can possibly be healthy.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” Anna said dryly. Then to Jewel she added, “Do you want me to open it?”
Jewel nodded and handed the book to Anna. She was su
rprised the other healer was actually able to take it from her, considering Jewel’s hand had felt locked to the book when it was resting on the shelf.
Anna frowned. “It’s warm.”
Jewel nodded but didn’t say anything.
Letting out a resigned sigh, Anna gently but unceremoniously opened the cover. There was the title page, repeating the words, The True History of Witches. She turned the page, expecting to find some sort of table of contents, maybe, or an introduction, but was met with a page full of handwritten text.
Jewel frowned. “Where are the pages? It looks like something’s missing. Look there.” She pointed to the inner binding, where small, ripped pieces of paper in the inside crack of the book indicated that several pages had been torn away.
“And why?” asked Anna. “What was so important about those pages that someone took the time to tear them out?”
Sly reached for the book, but when his hand made contact with the cover, the text covering the open page instantly disappeared.
“Whoa!” He pulled his hand back. The text immediately returned.
Jewel’s eyes widened as she looked from the book to Anna, to Sly, and then back to the book. It wasn’t until she looked down at the pages again that she realized the text was in an unknown language, totally unreadable to her.
“Did anyone else find that a bit alarming?” Sly asked as he wiped his hand on his pants, as if the book had somehow left a physical taint on him.
Jewel thought that might be a real possibility.
“Mated to a werewolf,” Anna said, raising her hand. “And her, too.” She pointed to Jewel. “Alarming is a relative term now.” She flipped through more of the pages and started shaking her head. “I can’t read any of this, Jewel,” she said glancing up. “Can you?”
“No, I don’t even recognize the language,” the genius admitted.
They heard a throat clearing behind them. Z grabbed the book as he turned and handed it behind his back to Sly. Jewel stepped to the side so she was just behind Sly as he held the book back to her, and she slipped it into the side pocket of the backpack he was wearing. All of it was so smooth it might have been choreographed.
