by J. S. Malcom
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Isabel says, but I see the hint of worry in her eyes. Naturally, she called Autumn first about the coven meeting. I was just the fallback for when she couldn’t be reached.
Phoenix’s eyes meet mine again. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
“Last night,” I say. “I checked in with her after… I got home.”
I catch myself just in time, realizing I haven’t told Phoenix or Isabel about my cleaning business. Not that they’d disapprove—at least, I don’t think so—but this isn’t the time to go into it.
I also figure it’s not the time for telling them what we talked about, since that got pretty involved. I told Autumn she should cover her mirrors, although I’m not really sure we’re being watched. At least not constantly. That just doesn’t seem possible, especially if that surveillance could only be accomplished by using mirrors. But I now know for a fact that I was being watched at least once that way. How else could someone have trailed me to Martha Sanders’ house?
That said, I’m not sure we’ve both been watched. So far, there’s been no indication of anyone screwing with Autumn. In the end, we decided to play it safe. We’ll cover any mirrors around us for now. Which might be a problem while driving, but it’s better than being under a magical microscope.
The sudden hush that falls over the room brings me back to where I am. A woman enters the atrium through the French doors connecting it to the house. She’s tall and thin, wearing a flowing pale green dress. She has blonde hair cut to frame her face. She stops where the aisle meets the circle. She looks out at us and says, “Thank you for coming to my home tonight. My apologies for the short notice.”
Wait. That’s her? Anna said Sarah Wellingsford was eighty, while the woman standing before us could easily pass for being in her fifties. What is it with witches and aging? Still, I thought that mainly applied to veil witches, while the rest got maybe just a little bit off the hook. Not that I’m complaining, but it keeps messing with me.
Sarah crosses the room, takes a seat within the circle, and resumes speaking. “This isn't one of our routine meetings, so I might as well get directly to the point. We’re currently facing a threat against our community. Our objective today is to review the facts, such as we know them to be, and to weigh any possible courses of action.”
She directs her gaze to Isabel and adds, “As I'm sure you all know, some witches have gone missing. Isabel, your daughter, Bethany, and your friend, Erica, are among those believed to have been taken. I'm sure I speak for all us when I say how much I appreciate your being here at what must be a time of great duress. Can you please tell us what you know so far?”
Isabel glances at me before addressing the group. “My daughter was taken by means of an Aucepis Monitum spell. To the best of my knowledge, the same applies to the others who’ve gone missing. That’s all I know at this time.”
Confused looks are exchanged throughout the room, suggesting that many don't know what this means. Naturally, Isabel notices.
“It's a trapper spell,” she explains. “Typically used for holding someone in a different realm or dimension. The perpetrator leaves behind an image of the one taken as a visual reminder that there's a timeframe involved, as one would in a hostage situation. However, at this point we're not aware of any demands or expectations.”
“The method used in this case being speculomancy,” Sarah explains to the still confused gathering. “An obscure form of magic no longer practiced. Is that right?”
She directs the question to Isabel, but I get the feeling it's asked more for the crowd's benefit.
“That's right,” Isabel says.
“I don't understand,” someone says. “What's speculomancy?”
“Perhaps our friend Maggie Greene could best explain,” Sarah says. “Being the one here perhaps most well versed in magical history. At least, I can’t think of anyone who has conducted research to the same degree.”
I follow Sarah's gaze to where Maggie sits on the other side of the circle. I didn't notice her until now, but there are well over a hundred witches here tonight.
Maggie’s face flushes at the unexpected attention. “Of course,” she says. “Speculomancy is magic channeled through glass as the medium. Typically mirrors since, evidently, that's how it's most effectively applied. As you already mentioned, it's an antiquated approach. One we’ve also learned is full of pitfalls for the uninitiated.”
Sarah nods appreciatively. “And what was it used for?”
“According to what I've read, speculomancy was once a favored method for attempting to view the future. But my understanding is that it could be used to gain access to other realms, which is where the danger lies. Most witches aren’t meant to do that.”
“That’s interesting,” Sarah says. “Why do you suppose someone would use such magic?”
Maggie shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Unless, for some reason, they wanted to make a statement of some kind.”
“In other words, make it known that they could, in fact, use that kind of magic.”
Maggie nods. “I guess so.”
Sarah contemplates for a moment. “I think I heard you once say that this kind of magic was once used by Leonardo Da Vinci.”
Understandably, Maggie smiles proudly. It’s not often that she’s noticed for doing what comes naturally. Namely, spending her days searching out and studying rare magical texts. “According to several volumes I’ve read,” she says. “He even left hints by using mirror-writing in his manuscripts.”
I get a bad feeling about where this is going. That feeling is confirmed a moment later when Sarah asks, “And what kind of witch was Da Vinci believed to have been?”
“A veil witch,” Maggie says. “But—” Her eyes flick to me as her face colors more.
“But what?” Sarah says.
Maggie hesitates, glancing at me again. “But, well… we can’t know for sure, of course.”
“I suppose not,” Sarah says. “But, historically, speculomancy is often associated with veil witches. As you said, as a means of accessing other realms.”
Yeah, this is definitely where I thought things were going. It’s starting to feel much more like a trial than a coven meeting. Which makes me the defendant. As well as Autumn, despite her absence.
Obviously feeling the same way, Isabel speaks up. “I’m not sure this is appropriate. We’re here to gather information, not cast aspersions.”
Phoenix perches forward in his seat, clearly agitated. “This is completely unfair,” he says. “If it wasn’t for Cassie and her sister, we wouldn’t have even known what was going on.”
Sarah remains unruffled. If anything, she seems to gain confidence. “That’s another aspect that should be discussed,” she says. “Don’t you find it troubling that the same witches who brought the situation to your attention are also the only two among us who could likely harness such magic?”
Throughout the room, people start talking, creating a hubbub of confusion as way too many eyes find their way to me. My pulse ratchets up as my defense mechanisms instinctively kick in. Magic starts to thrum through my veins.
Phoenix’s eyes meet mine, within his gaze a message of apology for bringing me here tonight. Then his eyes widen as he feels what’s coming off of me. “Cassie, be careful,” he says softly. “Don’t pay any attention to them.”
Suddenly, a woman’s voice rises above the rest. “What about the rise of demon activity?” she says. “Can we talk about how someone has been opening the veil?”
I can’t tell who said it, but I’m not sure that it matters. In that moment, it feels as if nearly every witch in the room is of like mind. Plain and simple, they don’t trust veil witches. They’re all too ready to blame us for what’s been happening.
Phoenix stands and takes hold of my hand. He pulls me to my feet. “Come on, let’s go. You don’t need this.”
Isabel gets up too, staring back defiantly at those surrounding us. She gets on the
other side of me, softly gripping arm. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”
I let the two of them lead me toward the door while there’s still time. Because, with the amount of magic coursing through me right now, I’m tempted to show them something much scarier than a demon.
CHAPTER 29
I drive home feeling both stunned and raw from what just happened. I can't believe how close that came to becoming a feeding frenzy. I realize people are scared right now. Witches have gone missing, and it's probably just a matter of time before more disappear. Meanwhile, there have been multiple instances of the gap between our world and the demon realm having been opened. Everything points to a veil witch being involved. But Autumn and I are no longer strangers suddenly arriving on the scene. We've gotten to know people. We’ve proven ourselves trustworthy on multiple occasions. We’ve even saved lives. Apparently, none of that matters. As far as the coven is concerned, we continue to remain a potential threat.
My phone rings and I snatch it up from the passenger seat.
“So, what’s with all the calls and texts?” Autumn says.
A wave of relief rushes over me at the sound of her voice even though, with just that much, I can tell she’s buzzed. She just sounds different. On top of that, I told her exactly where I was in those texts. All the same, none of that matters right now.
“Where the hell have you been?”
A pause, and then Autumn says, “Just… I just needed some time. I sort of went…yeah, whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
Suddenly, I realize what happened. There I was fearing the worst, while Autumn has already dealt with the worst. Demons and trapper spells can’t scare her. Not after she lost her husband less than a year into their marriage.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Are you okay?”
Another pause and Autumn says, “I’m fine. I just drove out to the beach and then sort of ended up at Rory’s on the way back. Remember Penny? She said to say hi.”
Okay, sure. Rory’s. Where Autumn used to go drown her sorrows. I’ve only met Penny once, since Autumn doesn’t really go there anymore, but she’s a sweetheart. She helped Autumn get through many a dark night.
“Do you want me to come over? Never mind. I should come over.”
“No, don’t,” Autumn says. “Probably not the best time. I’m just going to get some sleep.”
That she doesn’t even ask about the coven meeting speaks volumes about her emotional state. I’m not sure if I should say it, but I do. “What about Ian? Have you at least called him?”
“Texted him,” Autumn says. “Told him I was with Mom. I know I shouldn’t lie, but I had to. I just needed…. He’s a good guy, isn’t he? You like Ian, right?”
She sounds so sad, and confused. I take a deep silent breath, trying to hold back tears. Autumn loves Ian. She knows it and I know it, but that doesn’t keep her from feeling guilty as hell. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough, or maybe there’s no such thing as long enough.
“He’s a really good guy,” I say.
Autumn speaks softly. “I know. I’m lucky, aren’t I?”
I know how she means it, that she’s lucky to have Ian in her life, especially after the hell she went through. “You are lucky,” I say. “Listen, I know it’s not easy, but Justin would want this for you. He’d want you to be happy.”
The silence on the other end tells me that Autumn too is trying not to cry. I wipe my eyes and slowly take the exit ramp, making sure no one is behind me.
“I know,” Autumn says, choking back a sob. “I know. I should get some sleep. Things will be okay.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“I’m good. Seriously. I’m just going to get some sleep. Am I being an idiot? Because I feel like I’m being an idiot.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, even as I wipe another tear away. It’s been such a long time since Autumn has been buzzed. “You’re not an idiot,” I say. “That’s my job, remember?”
Autumn laughs. “Oh, right. I forgot. Love ya, sis. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Autumn hangs up and I pull to the side of the road outside my neighborhood.
“Love you too,” I say softly.
Then I let myself cry.
CHAPTER 30
Even now, I still marvel that the wards set around the Cauldron keep our non-magical neighbors from hearing our parties. Somehow, that doesn’t seem possible. But, of course, those wards don’t work on us. As soon as I get out of my car I hear the music pounding in the street. I see that nearly every light inside the building is blazing, some downstairs flashing in what has to be Anna’s and Lissette’s apartment. On this night of all nights, there’s a party going on at the Cauldron. The last thing I need right now is a building full of drunk witches.
No, scratch that.
The last thing I need is the door troll, followed by a building full of drunk witches. I slam my car door closed, brace myself and keep walking. Can I take out a magical illusion with combat magic? Not likely, so it’s either deal with the troll or find someplace else to call home tonight.
I reach the bottom of the steps and wait with narrowed eyes. Seeing me, the troll sighs. So, the feeling is mutual. When I say nothing, he swings his club from side to side.
Right, how many times am I going to forget this routine? “Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper,” I say. “I'm not afraid.”
“What is your name?”
“Cassie Anderson.”
“What is your quest?”
“To end all troll life on this planet.” Once again, I’m off script, but I know by now that as long as I respond he’ll ask his stupid questions.
“What is the only letter in the English language that is never silent?”
You have to be freaking kidding me. I know I can basically say anything and he’ll cough up his answer before letting me through, but I’m stubborn by nature. I start thinking about it. Can a T be silent? No, right? Wait, I think, listen. Nobody says lis-ten. But I’m not sure. Okay, maybe it’s C. Wait. Scissors. What about W? Never mind, there’s like a million. Wreck. Wrestle. Wriggle. I think about it for at least another two minutes and keep coming up blank.
Screw this. I hate letting the door troll win again, but he’s not even real. Just for the hell of it, I give it one more shot. “Okay, maybe B,” I say. “That’s my answer.”
“Dumb,” the troll says. He actually smirks at me as he offers that example.
And there I was thinking I couldn’t narrow my eyes any more than I already have. I can barely see. “Okay, what’s the freaking answer?”
The door toll’s big brown eyes meet mine. “V. As in valiant,” he says. “Or vital and valuable. Not to mention vigilant. As a veil witch, I thought you’d appreciate that.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. Was the door troll just nice to me? Then I realize. I bet our building manager, Shakeesha, was at the coven meeting tonight. She must have made a door troll modification.
A lump rises in my throat. I softly say, “Thank you.”
The door troll steps aside. “You may pass, venerable veil witch.” He waits a beat and adds, “Even if sometimes you are verbose and vexing.”
I turn to see the grin on his face just before he fades.
Shakeesha’s little trick works. To my amazement, I enter the building smiling. Something I couldn’t have imagined possible minutes ago. And when I planned on somehow slinking past the party unnoticed, there’s no chance of that happening. Naturally, Anna’s and Lissette’s door is open. I take one step past it and voices rise above the music to call out my name.
“Cassie, get in here!” Jerome says.
“Cassie!” Bobby says. “There you are!”
They stand side by side grinning.
“Where did you think you were going, girl?” Lissette rushes toward the door and grabs me by the arm.
Anna presses a glass into my hand, and I look down to see a fizzing pink cocktail. �
�Positive Notion Potion,” she says. “You’re gonna love it. Have you eaten? I bet you didn’t eat.”
Yes, I know they’re doing it just to make me feel better. They might have even thrown together an impromptu party for that very reason. But if there was ever a time when I needed to know I had friends, it’s definitely tonight. So, I let Anna and Lissette herd me toward the kitchen past a sea of faces—some familiar, others not, but all of them smiling. I let myself be enveloped in their kindness as they make me a plate and keep filling my glass. And while I remind myself to go easy on the booze, I figure a little can’t hurt. I’m in good hands right now. I laugh as we tell stories and, before I know it, I’m swaying my hips to the music and sometimes singing along. No one asks about the coven meeting. No one mentions it at all. And that’s just fine with me. For tonight, I’m more than willing to pretend it never happened.
For the next hour or so, the party keeps building. Not to the point of crazy, but big enough to let myself become lost in the noise and silliness. At one point, I’m stunned when I turn around and find myself face to face with Shakeesha. She never comes to our parties. All the same, there she is, tall and beautiful with her dark skin and wild ringlets of black hair.
“Hi, there, Cassie,” she says. “Settling in okay?”
It seems hard to believe that I’ve lived here less than two months. So much has happened, but during that time this place has come to feel like home. “Settling in just fine,” I say. I raise my glass to hers. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“The door troll,” I say.
She shakes her head, but a smile tugs at her lips. She clinks her glass against mine. “I never know what that troll is going to do,” she says. “Glad to hear you like him, though.”
We chat for another minute or two before she heads to the bar. That’s when I notice Alec and Wendy across the room. In that moment, she tips her head back and laughs at something he said. I try to fight it, but he just reminds me too much of Grayson. And, of course, my mind goes right back to thinking about that relative of his, Sarah Wellingsford. What was she to him again? Great-great aunt thrice removed or something? Whatever. She’s a cold, rich, mega-bitch of a witch. Damn, how the hell did Alec get here? Other than the fact that he lives here, of course.
