Immortal Slumber (The Crawford Witch Chronicles Book 1)

by S. L. Perrine

  “Oh, sure.” She stuck her hand out the window, and with a twist of her wrist like she was turning the knob of a door, the tire took a ninety-degree turn and headed into a large snow pile on the side of the road.

  With the explosion and car parts from the two vehicles behind us, we continued to Chad’s house to speak to his father. I sent a text to Crystal and Matt as well, feeling ashamed that I hadn’t included them in the original meeting inside the clearing.

  The snow started coming down harder as we made it into town. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Crystal telling me she and Matt had been at a movie and they would get to Chester’s house as soon as they could.

  I could hear Clara on the phone with her parents discussing what happened to her new car. I could also hear Adelle’s screams at the fact that we had been attacked again. Only this time, we had been on our own. Then Marshal insisted that we refrain from having any more meetings without the rents there for protection.

  “I find it refreshing . . . the level of confidence all the parents seem to have in us,” Clara said, rolling her eyes after she disconnected the call.

  “They upset about the car?” I turned so I could see her.

  “They’re more upset that we are ‘playing’ with magic.” She emphasized the word “playing” with air quotes.

  “Really? My guess was they’d be pissed about a brand new car getting blown up.” Chad said, laughing at her in the rear view mirror. I turned around just in time to see Chester running out of the house, his boots in one hand and an axe in the other.

  “Is your father gonna be pissed about his truck?” I watched Chester slip his boots on without lacing them and head to my car, his axe resting on his shoulder.

  “Uhh . . . good question.”

  We turned to Chester as we got out of the car, and I let Chad walk a bit faster than me, so he would reach him first.

  “Hey, where’s the truck?”

  “Well . . . ”

  “Chadwick!”

  Chad knew when his father used his given name that he wasn’t in a joking mood, so he came out with it and gave a clear rundown on the events of the afternoon. After hearing his truck was a casualty at the suspected hands of Sabina Crawford, he seemed to be less inclined to swing the axe he carried at his son.

  We had to tell Chester everything that happened, so he would know why we were in the clearing to begin with. When Matt and Crystal arrived, we had to go through the entire story regarding my parents all over again. Luckily, they hadn’t wondered why we didn’t include them. In fact, they were happy we hadn’t. They had enjoyed a normal magic-free afternoon at the theater, and their vehicles hadn’t been blown into pieces.

  Once Chester told us he had known all this time where Gwen and Silas were, and that he was asked by my mother not to divulge the information to the rest of the coven, our decision was already made regarding the involvement of the rest of the parents. I remembered her statement, telling me to be careful about who my friends were. I had begun to think she was referring to the fact that her own sister had tried to kill her, but I then wondered if she felt like someone in her coven couldn’t be trusted. No matter how I looked at it, I would have to complete the blood ritual, giving a part of my power to each coven member to increase our strength and free my parents. Whatever needed to be answered could be done at that time.

  Divulging all of what he knew also meant Chester had to explain to us how there were two different stories regarding how I’d been given up, and neither were true. At least, not the whole truth. The story I knew was obviously for the non-magical. However, I remembered Chester and my friends telling me that my parents had actually been believed dead after a house fire. Faking their death after the fire seemed more likely, since I knew they were trapped in a house that had been theirs before I was taken from them. Silas’s father had sent people after them, and indeed set their house on fire. What Sigmis was not aware of was they escaped, relocated close to their friends, and hid.

  Of course, we had all discovered it was Sabina who ultimately found them later on. So, maybe the answer to a question I had months’ prior was an easy guess. Sigmis wouldn’t be looking, because he thought my parents were dead. Sabina knew to look, since she was the one who lost track of me to begin with.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The morning of the winter solstice came with plenty of warning. Yet I woke feeling like I missed a month somewhere. Helen, of course, came through the house with her green laundry basket in hand and asked for dirty clothes from the night before. I hadn’t spent much time at home since the night of my party, and I knew that was unfair to Helen and Michael . . . maybe even Michelle too, but they couldn’t know about the new part of my life. I would be putting them in danger, and I didn’t think they would believe me anyway.

  I looked at the woman who raised me as she picked up my dirty clothes from the bathroom floor. When I returned home that night, would she look different to me somehow? Would I look different to her? I had never really had a strong relationship with either of my parents. They were my parents, and I loved them for taking and caring for me when they didn’t have to. I hadn’t really thought about it like that until I found out my mom and dad had no choice in the matter, and I was essentially, no, literally ripped from them.

  I wondered what life would have been like had I grown up as a true Crawford witch. I could imagine being in the little house in Dublin, working the shop after school and the weekends between homework and training.

  I would have had Chad at my side either way, but wouldn’t have needed Clara to keep a watchful eye on me, even as an enemy. I would have still come to this day, but maybe a bit differently. I wouldn’t have to complete the ritual to gain enough power to overcome my aunt, or free my parents from some other plane of reality. I wouldn’t have to watch my back for the constant attacks on me and my friends, or would I? Maybe all those things would be true, but in a different way.

  I threw the blankets away from me once Helen had left and closed the door. Being a Saturday morning, I didn’t really have to get out of bed early, but I wanted to take a look at the ritual again, to make sure I didn’t mess up or anything.

  The black velvet box was in its place in the back of my closet, and next to it, I could feel a larger leather box.

  “No way.” I shuffled stuff around, moving my box of wiccan tools and a few shoe boxes so I could reach the newest addition to my closet.

  The box was just as old-looking as I remembered. I ran my hand over the top of the big, brown leather box that held my mother’s Book of Shadows and lifted the latch on the seam. The book lay there, inside the box, but I was confused, since I had left the book with Chester.

  I opened the book and landed on a page I hadn’t come across before. It read:

  To my darling daughter on the day of her blood rite,

  How I’ve waited for this day to come, not just for your father and me, but to see our daughter take her place as the head of both of our families. The veil between the plains of existence will thin the closer it gets to the bewitching hour, and we will be in our place when you call your powers.

  Please remember, those you enter into a coven with are predestined to be your family from today until the end of time. They will share in your power, and you in theirs. They will be there to help you through the rituals and tribulations that come with having such power, but they will not always know what it will be like to have your power. Your power is handed down from parent to child. As with a family heirloom, your powers are a gift to the eldest child on the completion of the blood rite ritual after their eighteenth birthday. In your case, you are the eldest child of the eldest child. Even if I were there, our family’s magic passes to you on this night.

  This power is not interchangeable, and no one but you may have access to it. While your coven will no doubt increase in power, they will still not have a measure of the power you will have within you, since you are a product of both your parents. A High Priest and Priestess are
rightly named, for they have the highest measure of power, and the families do not usually mix together.

  That is where your father, Silas, and I offended the goddess and our families. We mixed our powers and created a new type of High Priestess . . . You. We have no idea what the level of power is you will have to control, nor do we know if you will be able to. What we do know is you have become the type of young witch we can be proud of, and we are. We may not have been able to be by your side in person, but we have been able to watch over you through the years. We know you won’t be the kind of witch who would abuse the power that is about to be handed to you.

  Your aunt is ruthless, and I’m sorry you have been left alone to handle her. She will stop at nothing to keep the power she has harnessed all these years in my absence. Once the blood ritual is finished, she will not be able to get to you, and she knows this. Please prepare yourselves for tonight. Do not let her get the upper hand. Your father’s coven members have been gathered, and will be in the woods, surrounding the clearing. If any help is needed tonight, they will be there to provide it.

  It is important that once you set your circle, you do not break the circle until the ritual is done. Be safe my daughter.

  Blessed Be,

  Mom

  ***

  “Holy shit.” I heard it escape my mouth before I was able to stop myself. My mother had accessed the book from where she was trapped to wish me luck, and to warn me.

  I closed the book and slid it back into the box, closing the latch. I placed my small black box on top of the book and pushed them under my bed. I had to get up and get ready, for a fight it seemed. Sure, I realized my aunt would probably try something tonight, but I really had no idea it would be her last available effort.

  Being the oldest of the youngest generation of women in the Crawford family meant the honor of being the High Priestess of our own coven. The family’s magic passed from the matriarch, which would have been Isabella. When Sabina killed her, the family’s power passed to my mother, Gwendolyn. When Sabina removed Gwen from this plane, she must have gained the Crawford power, as the oldest living female, but what if she didn’t?

  Since I am the oldest daughter of the oldest daughter, it would be mine. It was no wonder Sabina had it out for me. It also made no sense. It wasn’t like she would lose all of her power. She must not have come into the full powers of the high priestess, since my mother was not dead, and she had never bonded with a coven. From what Barnaby has said of Sabina, she was a kind of loner, and preferred solitary casting. How much would she really lose by letting me have what was rightfully mine?

  As much as I found the aspects of Sabina’s interests in the family magic to be confusing, I needed to get myself together and stop thinking about her. I picked up my cell from the night stand, where I kept it to charge overnight, and sent a message to Chad.

  “Gwen sent me a sort of birthday/blood rite gift. Meet me outside my house in an hour.”

  I knew I wouldn’t get a response. He hadn’t spoken to me since last week’s fiasco with the vehicular explosion session. He blamed me for bringing us out there in the first place. What he really couldn’t get over was the fact that he had put things on hold between us, and then changed his mind right at the same minute I thought a hold was a good idea.

  “Ughh.” I dragged myself across the room to the bathroom after tossing my cell phone on the bed. I must have tossed it a bit too hard, because it slid down to the floor in-between the wall and my bed. I resolved to get it before I left the house.

  I showered and dressed quickly, not wanting to make Chad wait if he arrived early. I was trying to brush out my hair when he pulled up in his dad’s new truck. Apparently, car insurance covered accidental fire.

  Chad got out of the truck and kicked at the tires a bit, then turned and leaned back on the wheel well. I opened the front door to get his attention and waved at him to come in the house. There was no way I was going outside with wet hair. He stood there for a minute, looking as though he wrestled with himself about the idea of coming in. He finally slapped the hood of the truck and sauntered up to the porch steps.

  “What’s up?” he yelled through the screen door.

  “My hair’s wet, just come in. Besides, it’s not something I can talk about yelling through the front door.” I growled at him and ran upstairs to my room. I grabbed the blow dryer and started drying my hair. I was nearly done by the time he made it into my room, which left me to wonder how long he contemplated coming in.

  He stood in the doorway and leaned against the jamb. He didn’t bother unzipping his coat or taking off his boots, as he normally would have done at the bottom of the stairs.

  I set the dryer down and unplugged it from the outlet, then made my way from the bathroom to my room, closing and locking the door behind me.

  “Close the door,” I said, getting comfortable on the floor near the foot of my bed, and pulled both boxes out to where he could see them.

  “So this visit has to do with tonight?” he asked, moving into the room while closing and locking the door.

  “Well, yes. Why’d you think I told you Gwen left me a gift, or did you just read the ‘meet me here’ part?”

  I pulled the book from the larger of the boxes and showed him the page in question. He took a few minutes to read it, and during that time, had at least taken off his coat. When he looked up, he just stared off into space out the window.

  “Well?”

  “Well what? Your mother clearly thinks your aunt is going to try something tonight, but I thought we kind of already knew that,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “No, the part where my father’s coven members will be around the clearing, watching out for us. Do we trust them? Also, I think Chester should be there.”

  “Well, of course my father will be there. He’s been planning to since day one.” He moved to put his coat back on.

  “Wait, why are you in such a hurry?”

  “I just have a lot of stuff to get done. I don’t have time for this.”

  “Really? Is that it? You don’t have time for discussing my aunt, or you don’t have time for me anymore?” I asked him.

  “That’s not it and you know it.” He turned back, but then headed for the door again. He had his hand on the door knob, but didn’t move to undo the lock.

  I put the boxes back under the bed and stood to brace myself for whatever he would have to say next, but to my surprise, he didn’t talk at all. I didn’t even see him coming at me until his mouth was on mine. His hand intertwined in my hair and pulled me to him. His other hand went to the small of my back, and my arms flew around him in response. The kiss was hard and needy, and my body responded to his every move. It was like a dance. Our bodies pushed into each other, and then it was over. Just as quickly as he was on me, he was back at the door, the lock undone. His hand began to turn the knob.

  “Just in case,” he said before running from my room.

  My lips felt swollen. I touched them with my hand to make sure they were still their normal size. I looked over to the mirror on my dresser, only I didn’t recognize myself. My hair had grown since my birthday, and was down to my waist. The color of my skin had darkened again, and the freckles that once scattered about my cheeks were gone. My lips had a luster to them that even a kiss couldn’t have produced alone, and my eyes were such a bright amber. They looked as if they had little golden flecks in them, and much different than the usual dirt brown.

  “What is going on?” I let my hand fall to my side. The buzzing distracted me from the lingering kiss. I realized I had forgotten about my phone on the floor, under my bed. I reached down and felt around for it, but had to slide under the bed to retrieve it.

  I looked as my hand hit a hard object that didn’t feel like the flat of my phone. I moved the object to the edge of the bed and grabbed my phone, hitting the button to stop the buzzing.

  “Hey, give me a minute,” I yelled to the receiver as I slid out from under the bed.


  “Okay, hello?” I picked the phone up and placed it to my ear as I reached around to the object I found under my bed.

  “Hello?” I said again, but all I could hear on the other end of the phone was a heavy breathing.

  “Creep.” I pushed the end-call button and placed my phone on the desk.

  The rock I held in my hand was the same as the last one I had found there. I silently wondered how my aunt was getting them under my bed, and then a sick feeling came over me. What if Gwen was right? What if one of my friends couldn’t be trusted? Who could it be, and why?

  I couldn’t think about that. I had to get ready for the ritual. If my mind wasn’t right, then the magic wouldn’t work. I was not sure if I even wanted it to work.

  How could I enter into a lifelong pact with my friends if I thought one of them had, in some way, betrayed me? I couldn’t, that’s how.

  I put the rock in the box with the rest of my tools. It wouldn’t close all the way, but at least I would remember to bring it with me if it was in there. I moved to the closet and grabbed the robe I was given to wear for the ritual. It was white fleece, with black embroidery along the edges of the cuffs and hood. The embroidery was done in a way that resembled cursive C’s, but when I asked Alistair, he had said the embroidery was not the significance of the robe. It had been passed down between the High Priestesses of the Crawford Witches for years. His wife, Isabella, had worn it, as did her mother. My mother had also worn it, and I would too.

  I put the robe on my bed and ran a hand over the fabric. It was sure to keep me warm, that was for sure. I looked in the mirror. I wore a pair of tattered blue jeans with holes at the knees and a black, short-sleeved shirt. I didn’t know if I needed to dress up under the robe or not, but I was comfortable. I fashioned my hair into a braid-like crown on my head, then thought it made me seem cocky in my position, and took it out. I decided to let it hang in its natural state. For a moment, I thought I was putting too much emphasis on what I would dress like for the ritual, like it was a prom or some such nonsense. Then I remembered Gwen’s words in the book: rite of passage.