Unleashing Echoes (Reconstructionist 3)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  My uncle was standing on the northern edge of his circle, before the green candle for earth. He and I shared that natural affinity. The circle that arced out around and behind him shimmered with magic and appeared empty. But I knew that he wouldn’t have constructed such a large circle if it wasn’t meant to hold something.

  Jasper held his hands loosely clasped before him, smiling at us. He wore pale-blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His feet were bare and his cuffs were slightly rolled up, exposing his ankles. He appeared to have no difficulty standing. But then, I’d broken his back, not his legs. Magic stirred sleepily all around him, ruffling his wispy blond hair.

  I transferred my attention momentarily to the only other person I could see or sense in the basement.

  Rose.

  My aunt was kneeling, positioned at an angle to Jasper but outside of his circle. Her pale-pink skirt was pooled prettily all around her, almost as if she’d arranged it that way. Or someone had shoved her down, abruptly and forcefully enough that she couldn’t get back up.

  My aunt looked easily ten years older than she had in January. Her skin was sickly even in the soft glow of the candles. She caught sight of us, twisting her hands in a gesture so similar to the day she’d handed us back to Jasper that a terrible, wrenching pain shot through my chest. Jasmine, Declan, and I had come to our aunt under the guise of saving a rabbit, though we’d really been seeking refuge for ourselves. I had never forgiven her for letting Jasper take us back to the manor. I’d never forgiven her for everything that had happened afterward. Rose had been given that moment to rescue us, and she hadn’t even tried.

  Still, I met her desperately hopeful gaze across the candlelit chamber and somehow knew it wasn’t her first visit to the basement. In that moment of connection, I saw her for the first time as an adult, understanding her actions as an adult might.

  The healer of the Fairchild coven had been just as trapped as we three. Perhaps more so.

  “Rose,” I whispered.

  “Wisteria,” she cried. Then she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to moderate her reaction. She tried to smile. “I’m so sorry. Please, don’t —”

  Jasper looked at her sharply. And for a brief moment, I could actually see a cord of darkly twisted magic connecting them.

  Rose clamped her mouth shut. But not of her own volition.

  Jasper’s control over my aunt wasn’t simply a manipulation of the coven magic, as it seemed to be with our parents. He had actually bound her with some sort of dark power.

  Declan muttered something nasty behind me. He was putting the puzzle pieces together as quickly as I was.

  Returning my gaze to Jasper, I took off my shoes again, one at a time, feeling the estate magic undulate beneath my bare feet.

  Jasper frowned, most likely in response to feeling the estate and the house respond to my presence. Our presence.

  I took a single step forward, giving Jasmine and Declan space behind me. I could hear them removing their own footwear.

  “What have you done, Jasper?” I finally asked, though I knew deep in my soul that talking wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “To Rose? To get out of the wheelchair?”

  “Well, you forced my hand. Didn’t you, my sweet?”

  I stepped farther into the room, slowly moving toward the center opposite my uncle, but keeping a good twenty feet away from him.

  Jasper’s gaze flicked to Jasmine on my left and Declan on my right as they kept pace with me.

  “You should have had him cross you off the contract,” my uncle said.

  “You started leeching from Rose long before I knew about any contract,” I said mildly, eyeing the connection I could see twisting between Jasper and Rose. I could try to sever it, but I had nothing with which to cut through magic. I’d never learned to manifest knives as my father could. And I couldn’t carry a sharp-edged artifact because I would eventually erode its magic.

  “Come, children. Take your places at my side,” Jasper said, as if already annoyed at the casual conversation. “Together, we’ll be unstoppable. As we were always meant to be.”

  “No one is stopping us from doing whatever we want, Jasper,” I said. “Except you. Whatever boundaries you wish to surmount, we will not be crossing them with you.”

  Jasper eyed me. “I can simply take what I want, Wisteria,” he said. “Move you where I will, when I will it.”

  “If that were true,” Declan said, “you would have done it a long time ago. No, Jasper. You might have been able to call forth enough coven magic to have bound us to the Conclave contract, but you can’t move against the three of us.” He shifted his feet on the dirt floor, deliberately picking one foot up at a time and placing it back down. “You don’t even wholly command the estate magic. We still share some of the connection.”

  “An oversight I will correct immediately,” Jasper said, sounding utterly unruffled.

  Jasmine tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Word on the street is that the house likes Wisteria better than you.”

  Jasper pinned me with his washed-out blue gaze. “I’ll take care of that troublesome brownie as well.”

  Jasmine barked out a laugh.

  Declan and I looked at her.

  “What?” she said. “You know Scooby-Doo.”

  “There were brownies in Scooby-Doo?”

  “No … I … never mind,” Jasmine said. “Let’s just get back to vanquishing the evil overlord. We skipped breakfast. I’m getting hungry.”

  Kett suddenly appeared before us. He was standing in front of me but slightly to the side, so as to not block my view of Jasper. My uncle eyed the vampire without any obvious reaction. He would have known Kett was on the estate and inside the house even before he appeared.

  “The elders?” I asked.

  “Subdued.”

  “But alive, right?” Jasmine asked nervously.

  “Kettil,” Jasper said. “I had hoped you’d stay out of this.”

  “You brought the situation to my attention when you had Yale kidnap witch children.”

  Jasper waved offishly. “He’s an outsider whose transgression cannot be connected back to the Conclave.”

  “The Convocation will not see it that way.”

  Jasper smiled charmingly. “The Convocation will see what I show them.”

  “Wisteria collected a reconstruction that ties you to the murder of Dawn Fairchild’s parents, and to her kidnapping.”

  “Wisteria …” Jasper snapped, his composure momentarily slipping. “Wisteria will soon be brought into line.” He shook his head. “Enough. Vampire, none of this would have been necessary had you just made the correct decision more quickly.”

  “That would have only delayed it,” I said. “It was always going to come to this. Us against you. It’s what you created us to do.”

  “No,” my uncle said. “That’s what you created. But no matter. I will fix it.” He nodded to Kett. “And then we can discuss my remaking.”

  “Oh, please,” Jasmine said. “You don’t think that Kett would —”

  “This is witch business,” Jasper formally intoned, interrupting her. “Fairchild business. Your welcome here is rescinded.”

  Magic slammed against Kett. The vampire leaned his shoulder into the onslaught, but his feet slid back in the dirt.

  Reacting to the vampire’s natural resistance, or perhaps the resistance he’d gained through drinking my blood, the energy intensified, whipping around and between us.

  I reached into the tornado, willing the estate magic to heed me. But it didn’t. It couldn’t disobey a direct command from Jasper.

  Kett turned, reaching back for me. His eyes were flooded with the red of his magic, but vampire magic wasn’t going to counter witch magic in witch territory.

  Our fingers brushed.

  Then Kett was ripped from my grasp and dragged up the stairs. Ejected from the estate, as I had ejected Yale in January.

  The whirlwind of magic ebbed, dissipating. Though od
dly, I could still feel it as a light film on my hands, face, and forearms.

  Jasper brushed his hands together with great satisfaction. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” He stretched his arms out to the sides. Magic rippled throughout his circle. The shimmer shifted, revealing three children. Ruby, Jack, and Dawn were lying spread-eagle in the dirt, seemingly insensible. They’d been deliberately arranged, their heads facing toward the center of the circle and their outstretched limbs not quite touching.

  Rose made a pained noise.

  Without any more boasting or grandstanding, Jasper stepped back into the circle, so that he stood between the children’s heads.

  It was just the three of us against him now. And he wielded the combined power of the Fairchild coven, in addition to whatever spell he was powering with magic being leeched from the children.

  The time for talking was done. We three were going to have to be enough.

  “Declan,” I said. “I’ll need you to crack his shields. Then I’ll take them down.”

  Declan nodded. He lifted his left hand and three small stones began spiraling just above his open palm. He already had his blasting rod in his right hand. The runes etched along its length pulsed with power.

  Jasper closed his eyes, rolling his head back. He gathered the magic that hovered almost tangibly in the circle toward him, preparing some spell.

  I pivoted, pacing around Jasmine and Declan and laying magic in my wake as I did so. “Jasmine,” I said, keeping my gaze on Jasper. “Grab Rose and get her into this circle. Or out of the basement altogether, if you can.”

  “I’m not babysitting —”

  “She’s tied to Jasper somehow,” I said, cutting off whatever rant she was about to launch. “Can you see it? You’re going to need to cut through the magic. Have you got something?”

  Jasmine snapped her mouth closed, squinting in Rose’s direction. Then she started digging through her satchel. “I’ll rig something.”

  I nodded, pausing in my circling to step back between them. I pulled layer upon layer of magic from the earth, quickly constructing a protection circle in a process similar to how I created my oyster-shell cubes.

  Jasper slapped his hands together.

  The three of us froze, steeling ourselves for whatever he was about to hit us with. But instead of casting, our uncle simply opened his eyes, which were now glowing a fierce blue. “Violet,” he whispered. “Dahlia. Grey. Slate.”

  Magic boomed through his circle.

  “What the hell?” Declan muttered.

  “Summoning spell.” I felt slightly light-headed in response to the power that my uncle commanded so effortlessly.

  My mother appeared just outside of Jasper’s circle, to the far right. She swayed on her feet, then collapsed to her knees.

  I knew the feeling. Pearl Godfrey had once transported me from Vancouver to London, and it had taken me a week to feel like I was no longer inside out. Of course, Pearl had needed my explicit permission in order to move me at all. Jasper had simply whispered, and my mother appeared.

  Declan swore nastily. “With just their first names?”

  Dahlia appeared. Jasmine’s mother landed directly on her back. She appeared to be still unconscious as a result of our breaking her wards.

  “Go,” I said to Jasmine. “Now. He’s gathering them for a reason.”

  “To bind us,” Declan muttered.

  Grey and Slate appeared at the same time, each beside his wife. The basement air was heavy with magic. Almost suffocating. Grey kept his footing, but he looked as though he could use a blood transfusion. Which, depending on how much Kett had taken in order to subdue him, was probably accurate.

  Slate bent over and threw up.

  Stepping out from the protection circle I’d cast for Jasmine and Rose, I gathered all the magic I could hold toward me, fueling my bracelet. There was so much power in the air that I didn’t even need to tap into the estate and the house.

  Jasmine dashed across the basement for Rose.

  Declan tossed a series of his spelled stones toward Jasper’s circle.

  Violet covered her face and shrieked as Declan’s magic exploded above her. Grey threw himself over Dahlia.

  I thrust all the magic I’d gathered toward the circle in a messy, haphazard push, counting on whatever cracks Declan had made to be enough to get me through Jasper’s shields.

  Then Jasmine slammed against an invisible wall about a foot from Rose. She stumbled, falling soundlessly onto the dirt with blood pouring from her nose.

  Declan’s magic rained down over all the elders’ heads. The candlelit air between us and Jasper cleared.

  Magic rippled across my uncle’s circle. It appeared pristine, undamaged.

  Jasmine made it to her feet, scrambling back toward us. Declan stepped out of my protection circle, grabbing her and dragging her back.

  I didn’t take my gaze off Jasper. Or step back into the circle.

  My uncle smirked at me. “You’re out of practice, my sweet Wisteria.”

  My stomach soured, and I struggled to keep my creeping fear from my face.

  “Get up, my siblings,” Jasper said. “Up, up. On your feet. It’s time to unify the coven. It’s time to bring the children back into the fold.”

  My mother gained her feet, glaring at her brother. “This wasn’t what we discussed, Jasper.”

  He waved a hand in my direction. “You’ll need to take that up with your daughter.” Magic rolled through his words as he spoke. “Now … take your place …”

  Violet flinched. And for a brief moment, I watched her struggle to shake off the compulsion Jasper had just hit her with. Then she pivoted, stepping forward and pausing as if awaiting more instructions.

  She pinned her gaze on me, gritting her teeth. Sorrow and regret flitted across her face.

  My heart pinched, but I brushed the emotion away. Her concern was too late. Too little.

  “Everyone else,” Jasper said. “Come, come. The vampire is rather dutifully trying to break through the outer wards. I don’t need to be waging a war on two fronts.”

  Rose started weeping.

  “Damn you, Jasper,” Grey snarled. He attempted to help Dahlia, barely conscious now, to her feet. “You can’t make us fight our own children.”

  “I don’t need you to fight, Grey. I just need you to contribute your magic and your blood ties. I’ll do the rest.”

  And triggered by Grey’s words, I understood suddenly what I needed to do. It all became crystal clear.

  It was rash and it was dangerous. But only for me. I turned my back on Jasper, catching the start of his confused look as I did so.

  If, on some level, our parents did still care for us — enough to pull their punches when we faced off at the front door, enough to curse and rail against Jasper’s manipulation of the coven bonds — then perhaps I could unify that tenuous connection for just long enough to break Jasper’s hold on them.

  Reaching for Jasmine, I whispered so only she and Declan could hear me. “He can’t make them kill us. They can break the compulsion. Together, they’re strong enough. They just need the right push.”

  Jasmine frowned, but she took my hand unquestioningly. I turned to face the elders again.

  Slate stepped into place beside my mother without being commanded to do so by Jasper. “Don’t make this worse than it needs to be, Wisteria,” my father pleaded. “This isn’t worth dying for.”

  “You were saying?” Declan asked wryly.

  Ignoring my father, I wrapped my other hand around Declan’s.

  “Screw you, Jasper.” Dahlia finally found her voice, though she was still leaning heavily on Grey’s shoulder.

  I closed my eyes, reaching out with my magic and through Jasmine’s and Declan’s power, ignoring everything else.

  “What are you doing?” Declan asked.

  I didn’t answer as residual magic stirred around us. Layers upon layers. Years and years of spells. Years and years of my, Jasmine, and Declan�
��s collective childhood imprinted in the darkness, seared into the dirt underneath our feet.

  Whispers rose at my bidding, brushing against me. Caressing me.

  “What are you doing?” Jasmine cried.

  I opened my eyes. The magic I’d called forth danced around us in vibrant streaks of blue.

  Momentarily distracted by my change in tactics, Jasper was frowning at me.

  I looked at my parents. They were frightened, worried. “I should have dragged you down here twelve, thirteen years ago. I should have shown you. Shown you what is worth dying for.”

  “No …” Jasmine whispered.

  I wasn’t sure whether it was compassion for our parents or fear for me that made my cousin speak, but I had already called the reconstruction spell forward. Without my candles, without any boundaries. Magic poured out of me, fueling all the residual in my immediate surroundings.

  “Get the kids,” I said. “Take our parents out of play. I’ll keep Jasper busy.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Declan snarled.

  “Declan, please. Just get the children out of here.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. The magic wouldn’t let me hold it back any longer. I dropped Declan’s and Jasmine’s hands, lifting my palms toward Jasper, toward the elders. Toward the past, where it was ready to spring forth all around me. I opened myself up to it. I poured myself into it.

  Reconstruction after reconstruction came into being all around us. Echoes of our childhood. Echoes of the three of us from ages nine to sixteen. Echoes of everything Jasper had ever made us do, everything he’d ever done to us.

  Including him holding a knife to Jasmine’s neck, on an altar that had reappeared in the middle of the room right in front of our parents.

  Jasmine made a terrible pained noise, but I didn’t stop. I allowed all the terrible moments of abuse to manifest. I watched Declan and me charging in, fighting Jasper. Pulling Jasmine from the altar.

  Dahlia cried out. My father shouted something. But I couldn’t listen. I wouldn’t soften or apologize.

  “Get ready,” I whispered, heedless of the tears streaming down my face.

  Jasmine placed her hand on my back at the same time as Declan placed his on my shoulder.