by Dana Davis
“Oh, and she says to recite them in English and Gaelic.”
Daisy nodded and thanked the medium. That last part she knew. Using old and new languages together gave spells more power, grounding them in the past and present.
“Don’t think these’ll be much help, babe, “Noah said as he stepped into the room with three books piled in his arms. He sounded tired and she wanted nothing more than to cuddle with him in bed, forget any of this was happening. But Zoey was counting on her. “I haven’t deciphered anything in them yet.”
These books were Daisy’s oldest volumes, the ones no one could read any longer, written in a lost language. Nonetheless, they were copied down centuries ago and distributed throughout various witch families. Probably in hopes that some witch would one day figure them out. Noah, with linguist talents he’d inherited from his father and enhanced by his own paranormal ancestors, had been working on creating a key for them. So far, no luck.
“I know, honey. I just want to see if the symbols on the Catcher box match any in those books. Could you check?” Noah leaned forward to study the silver box that sat on the coffee table in front of his wife. “Hmm, I’ll look. But I don’t thing these petroglyphs are in any of these books.” He began searching anyway.
Jay scooted toward the coffee table and held out a hand. “I’ll help.” Noah nodded and gave him a book.
Daisy and Bridgette refilled everyone’s coffee cups and immediately got to work on casting the combined spells the dead witch had suggested.
Damnit, this had better work. If we don’t locate Zoey, we could lose her forever. She didn’t want to dwell on what else they would lose if they couldn’t free the Dream Catcher.
Chapter 27
Whispering
“Zoey? Can you hear me?” Daisy’s faint voice broke through her weeping. But it didn’t matter now. Zoey couldn’t stop crying. Despair had a firm hold on her.
I’m going to die here. Trapped in the underworld. Trapped in hell. I’ve failed.
Daisy’s faint voice cried, disjointed yet demanding, “Zoey Vega! If you can hear—strong—Anguisher is trying to turn—dreams—understand—lose hope—must—strong.”
She forced herself to her feet, though her crying continued like uncontained grief of thousands finding release through her, and wobbled before regaining her balance. Her cousin must be near the Catcher box. Grammy Helen’s ghost had told her to fight the Anguisher through the box, not directly, so she was certain that was the only way she would hear the woman. Was Jason there too? She thought of him, of their lovemaking, indulging her thoughts in the memory of his touch. Her grief seemed to move farther away until she finally took control over her incessant crying and scrubbed hard at her face.
“Yes, Daisy.” Her heart leapt with a minute amount of optimism. “I hear you.” No response. Daisy was no Dream Catcher. Obviously, the witch couldn’t hear her. Echoes of her own crying seemed to be in a constant loop around her. Dispair threatened again and she slapped the feelings back. “No, damnit. I won’t give in. I won’t.”
“You will give up the dreams, Catcher,” a sandpaper voice from the darkness declared. It sounded almost human. Almost.
Her pulse raced and her head pounded in unison. Holy crap! He’s here. She turned in a frantic search to locate him but blackness met her everywhere and she lost her balance. She landed hard on the living floor and struggled to her feet again, this time keeping her legs wide for stability. Something shimmered off to her right and she whipped her head to it.
Zoey squinted at the sudden light he emitted, thankful to see anything again. Once her eyes adjusted, she studied him. The Anguisher appeared as though through a fog, his body the only thing visible in the darkness, but it was blurred, like an old photo where the subject had moved before the exposure had finished. His image remained distorted, like a disturbing scene from a horror flick. Zoey glanced down. Though she could see him, she still couldn’t see herself, as though his light didn’t reflect off anything. Eerie. And terrifying.
Daisy’s words echoed in her mind, replacing fear with anger, and Zoey shoved it toward him. “I will not give in to you!” He advanced on her and she stepped back, keeping her gaze on his distorted figure. So, he could see her but she couldn’t see herself.
He laughed and chills raced up her spine. “You can’t run from me, Catcher. This is my world.”
“Exactly,” Zoey said with venom, hoping her voice would stop trembling. “This is your world.” She made a sweeping motion with her arms. “You don’t belong in my world any more than I belong here.” Her words came quick and furious. “You’re not supposed to steal dreams from people. That’s not your job.”
“This place is no longer enough.” Was that yearning in his voice? “I want my young son to have more when it’s his time to take my place.”
So he does have an heir. Well, why in hell should I be surprised? That’s the way the Fates work, right? There always has to be a replacement. Eventually. But I don’t have a daughter. So I can’t die, yet. That cheered her just a bit but the feeling was brief. Can he keep me here forever? Alive? Trapped and used? She tried very hard to push those thoughts away. His son must not be old enough to help or he wouldn’t need to conjoin with anyone to get at me. That might just be in my favor. A chink in his armor.
“It’s true I can’t live in your world, Catcher. So, I must turn your world to me. Don’t you see?” He said that as if it were the most logical thing. As though he merely planned to purchase a real estate investment for his son. But the real estate he wanted was the whole damned world.
My world. His wish pulled at Zoey, tugged on her aura. He was dreaming, wishing, and she tried in desperation to put up a barrier. Hateful and destructive wishes didn’t filter through the box to her. Those went to the Anguisher’s domain. But this one found her. How? Think, Zoey, think. A Dream Catcher must feed the box to balance the hopes of humankind with despair. Balance. A surge of nausea hit her. But I have to do it from my world, not his. Here, terrible wishes would use her and the box for purposes she didn’t want to think about, much less be a part of.
She had but one purpose now. I have to balance the dark side. The dark side? Really, Zoey? You couldn’t come up with a more imaginative name for it? But that’s exactly what this place was—dark.
Like a cable channel link that just corrected pixilation, the Anguisher’s image cleared enough for her to see his hollow eyes and the blue veins that stood out against pigment-free skin. Boils erupted from that skin as oozing and weeping faces, all silent in their torture. She wanted to look away but forced herself to keep eyes on him.
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” She pushed down bile that threatened to make her sick, not knowing if she could actually throw up here or not. “You’re wishing for a better place for your son. You have a dream. Would you want someone to destroy that?” She felt it was a good argument. It was the only one she had right now. If this man had any feelings, and he seemed to in his own distorted, psychotic way, then maybe he would think about his actions.
At first, the Anguisher seemed to be in deep thought. “I do have dreams, don’t I, Catcher?” he said, as though it were some great revelation. But Zoey relief was short-lived. His laughter sent shivers careening up her spine again. “I don’t care about other people’s dreams, Catcher. My son and I won’t lose our abilities to make things happen here, not with you and your box in my possession.” He cocked his head, causing more faces to howl silently from his boils.
Zoey averted her eyes for a moment but her crying echoes and despair slammed into her like a punch to the stomach. She struggled, breath shallow, until she had control over her emotions again. It felt much like when she was coming out of the coma, pushing her way through the brain fog in search the real world. But there was no real world here. Then another thought churned in her gut. One she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself. The coma. The recent visions of Becka. “You made Becka attack me. Didn’t you?”
The
Anguisher shrugged. “She was convenient. And useful. You’d be surprised what people will do for me when they’re that vulnerable. Didn’t take much to push her to it, either.”
So, Becka hadn’t just found me lying there in the parking lot. She tried to be angry at the woman but couldn’t seem to work up the emotions. It wasn’t her fault. She was manipulated. I never thought I’d be defending that bitch. But it really wasn’t her fault. “Does she even remember what she did to me?”
He gave her a vile grin that caused a shiver to race up her spine. “No more questions, Catcher. It won’t be long now.” He cocked his head as if listening to something and disappeared.
Zoey wanted to cry, “Don’t leave me!” But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead aloud. Only blackness met her gaze now and she folded her legs beneath her as she sat, despair trickling in like a crowd to a movie theater.
* * * *
The link snapped and Daisy staggered against Bridgette. They both cursed at the same time, though in slightly different words. Bridgette had seen too.
Noah stepped to them. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“A minute.” Daisy wanted to retch. She couldn’t hear what that awful being had said to Zoey, but the spells had allowed her to see into the box and, in that brief moment, she perceived Zoey’s enemy. And she didn’t like him. Not one damn bit. She’d cried out in hopes that Zoey would hear her, but she had no way of knowing if her younger cousin got her message. That place was so black.
Bridgette was in Jay’s arms now. Scarlet stepped close and studied the box with interest mixed with what looked like apprehension.
Daisy allowed her husband to hold her until she stopped trembling, then she said, “We have to help her, Noah. We have to get her out of there. Away from him. She’s slipping.” Damnit, I won’t let the Dream Catcher lose hope. She studied Zoey’s Native dreamcatcher that lay on her coffee table and an idea lodged in her tired brain. Why didn’t I think of that before? She gave Noah a reassuring kiss then scooped up another book. “Scarlet, can you open the portal again tonight?” The medium nodded. Daisy gave a pointed look to Bridgette. “Get Jason over here now. Noah, get the dreamcatcher from our bedroom. Jay, come with me.”
No one argued and Daisy prayed to the universe that her idea would work. She had nothing else if it didn’t.
* * * *
Anger swelled, knocking despair from Zoey’s emotions, and a slew of derogatory names aimed at the Anguisher flew from her mouth. Cousin Bridgette would have been proud. She still had no idea how to beat the son of a bitch, but the thought of that asshole making her world like this one really pissed her off and she sucked in a breath of bravery.
“Zoey?” a familiar voice said.
She spun toward the sound and saw a woman standing not ten feet from her in the darkness. “Aunt Mena?”
“Hi, sweetheart.” The woman held arms out to her.
She choked back a sob and took a step forward. “Aunt Mena. How did you get here?”
“I’ve been watching out for you.”
“But—” Shit, Zoey, get a grip. Aunt Mena can’t be in the underworld. She just can’t. She was too good a person to end up in a place like this. The Fates, if they existed, wouldn’t have put her here, not it they had any scruples at all. This image was, well, wrong. Zoey’s neck hairs stood on end and she swallowed hard. “You’re not Mena.” Her voice caught and the words barely made any sound as her heart began to break all over again. You bastard.
The image threw its head back in laughter and blurred into the Anguisher, like air above hot asphalt. “You’re smarter than I thought.” He narrowed hollow eyes on her. “I will take your energy, young one, drain you like a sponge on a dry day, and use it to create despair in those who dream. Oh, you’ll live. I’m not stupid enough to destroy you completely. But I’ll create a grand underworld for my son.” He cocked his head, looking very pleased with himself.
Zoey tried not to look at the faces howling in silence from his boils. She didn’t think she could puke here, since even her tears were dry. But her feelings were genuine and very raw, especially now.
If the Anguisher could hear her thoughts, he didn’t let on. “Wouldn’t you rather give in to me than risk the pain of the struggle?”
Zoey fought a tremble at his words. She didn’t do pain very well. Maybe he was simply trying to frighten her. Anger flared as she thought of the image he’d created a moment ago, and she latched onto it to shove away her grief and fear. How dare he appear as her aunt! She turned on him with blazing eyes. “I won’t let you destroy hope. You asshole.”
He clicked his tongue. “Temper, temper, little girl.” He met her gaze with equal malice and reached a hand out to her.
She stood paralyzed. Her heart hammered against her ribs, keeping frantic rhythm with her pulse. Pain shot through her body, like someone had dunked her in freezing water, a thousand knives pricking her skin. Energy surged from her and her aura streamed outward toward her attacker. She groaned and struggled to keep what was hers. Instinctively, she reached out with her mind and grasped her aura, holding onto it with all her mental might. After a few agonizing moments, it seemed to be working.
But just as the Anguisher began to release her, a figure appeared at his side. This one looked human, female, except when her hands sprouted deadly talons. Holy shit! The Gorgon! The razor sharp nails snapped out and latched onto Zoey. She screamed and struggled to keep her wits through the agony that set fire to her skin and the despair that threatened to engulf her.
Chapter 28
A Cousin in the Dark
Daisy held Zoey’s Native American dreamcatcher over the Catcher box. The circular frame with colorful beads woven into the web-like string rested firmly in her grasp, while feathers dangled and swayed with her movements. Bridgette held Daisy’s Native catcher, the one that usually hung over her bed. Like before, the other witch would act as a booster for the spells. Only this time, Scarlet would open the door to the other side the same time they did the casting, to allow Daisy a portal to Zoey.
At least, that was the plan. Whether or not it would work, well, they could only find out by trying. And she had to try something, damnit. Anything was better than standing around staring into the damn Dream Catcher box like a mannequin. Zoey obviously couldn’t get home by herself.
She needs me to do a conjoining. This is the best I could come up with. She glanced at the spell book splayed open on the glass top of her coffee table. Noah sat next to her on the couch, ready to turn the pages as she needed.
She moved her eyes to Jason, who sat on a floor pillow with Perky in his lap and looked as though he might toss his cookies on her Mexican tile. The boy had burst in like a lunatic on a mission when he’d arrived. “Jason? You okay?”
He swallowed and brought his eyes from the Catcher box. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just help her.”
She didn’t have the nerve to tell him this might not work. That she ran purely on instinct. But witches have great instincts. Don’t we?
Bridgette eyed her, telepathic senses already open for the spells. The redhead felt much the same way from the doubt that flashed in her green eyes. But she didn’t say a word.
Daisy gave a glance at Jay, who watched Bridgette with a mix of wonder and—was that fear? Even with all that had happened, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of fashion magazine, clothes perfect, hair perfect, teeth perfect. Despite his good looks, Daisy still couldn’t believe the two were having sex. Her eyes drifted to Scarlet, who had shoed away several nosy ghosts with a promise to “fill them in on things” once those things got going. The medium stared back with an unreadable look in her dark eyes.
Finally, Daisy’s gaze rested on Noah, her rock of a husband and the one person she trusted most of all. She smiled at him and he stroked her back for a brief second, giving support the best way he knew how when she started working with magick. She soaked in his touch.
With a flutter of her heart and p
ulse, she took in a long breath. “Okay. Here we go, kiddies.” I really wish we weren’t.
* * * *
I’m going to die here. Now. In this awful place. The Fates help me, I’m losing hope. Just as Zoey was about to give in to the torment and agree to anything the Anguisher wanted from her, an unexpected power filled her from—where? She wasn’t sure. And she suddenly didn’t care. She sucked it in with vigor until she felt strong enough to resist. With her mind and body, she shoved at the Gorgon, trying to dislodge the claws. Again. And again. Desperate cries filled her ears, her own and her enemies’ voices. But those enemies didn’t want to release her. They held on, like a desperate and hungry lion to its prey.
She was about to give in but forced herself to make one final attempt at freedom. The Gorgon suddenly let go, claws raking a scream from Zoey as they dragged from her flesh. The Gorgon cried out and disappeared, gone but not defeated. Somehow she knew this. But right now she didn’t care. The pain had stopped. That was all that mattered to her at the moment. The Anguisher slumped then quickly stood erect, and he seemed surprised at her resistance. Or was that just Zoey’s imagination?
“You’ve learned much for one so young.” He sounded like a benevolent teacher from a popular sci-fi movie, but Zoey didn’t find it amusing. “You won’t get away from me, Catcher. You can’t escape my world.” He disappeared and blackness took his place.
Zoey sank to the ground, sobbing with exhaustion, though she never actually shed any tears in this dreadful place. Fates help me, I don’t want to go through that ever again. Through her dry sobs, she heard something that sounded like a distant voice, but it had to be an illusion so she didn’t bother to look up. There it was again. Her senses returned enough to form rational thoughts and she stopped weeping long enough to listen.
