by Lee French
“Whoa.” Drew caught sight of the bright blue tarps covering the cottage and slowed to a walk. “Wait. What? Latent witch abilities?”
“You’ve got about half of the equation that lets a person become a witch. Your mother or grandmother was probably one. It’s usually women. Based on what you know about genetics and biology, I’d guess it’s an X chromosome thing.”
This news made Drew think about the family he’d never have with Claire. No matter how hard they might have tried to keep their kids out of all this magic stuff, it never would’ve worked. Not that it mattered anymore. Besides, considering the past week, he had serious doubts about surviving to his eighteenth birthday in April, let alone long enough to stomach the idea of moving on from Claire to date someone else.
He reached the cottage and leaned against the wall. “How do we fix that or compensate for it?”
“Good question.”
“People usually say that when they don’t know the answer and need to stall for time to think.”
“Astute observation.”
Drew huffed and wiped sweat off his forehead. They needed an expert. Anne probably knew enough to help him.
“Drew, good. Can you give me a hand?” Justin rounded the corner and tugged on a rope holding the tarps in place over the cottage. “I can’t really accomplish anything useful until Claire and Avery come back, so I thought I’d put in some time on the roof. Work goes faster with more people.”
“Especially ones with magic powers?” Drew surprised himself with the bitterness in his words. But it felt right to sneer at Justin. How dare he accept that thing as Claire? How dare he drop her name casually like he didn’t know how much it hurt?
Justin flexed his jaw a few times while he untied a knot. “You’re allowed to say no. After all, you don’t live here.” He jumped up and caught the angled edge of the roof at the corner. In a show of raw strength, he pulled himself up and ducked under the loose corner of the tarp.
“Neither does Claire,” Drew snapped, but he kept his voice down so Justin didn’t hear him.
“You’re sulking,” Kay said. “I’d let you, but it’s unproductive and there’s a ticking ghost bomb in the woods.”
Scowling, Drew stalked away from the cottage. He flung mist out to envelop himself and moved from the woods to a living room covered in floral prints, doilies, and crystals. Anne Brady, Justin’s sister-in-law, sat in a wingback armchair with a dainty teacup. Her green cat-eye glasses rested on her chest, hanging from a beaded chain around her neck. Yellow tendrils of power formed her aura, revealing she’d probably visited a ley line since the last time he saw her.
Upon seeing him, she screamed and threw her hot tea in Drew’s face. “Oh, goodness! Drew, you scared the crap out of me.” Anne stood with a swish of her loose, brown dress.
“Yeah.” Drew wiped tea off his face with his sleeve. At least it hadn’t been scalding. “I noticed.”
“I’ll get a towel. Don’t move.” She hurried out of the room.
Only then did Drew notice the room’s other occupant, a young woman with golden blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore a fuzzy, shell-pink cardigan over a white shirt and jeans tucked into brown suede boots. Her aura barely showed flickers of sky blue. This girl had witch power, but not much.
“Smooth,” Kay said. “We could’ve jumped into the backyard, you know. Knocked on the door. Like people do.”
“Shut up,” Drew muttered. He flashed a fake smile at the girl in the other armchair. “Hi. I’m Drew.”
“Sophie.” She held a teacup in her lap and seemed unfazed by his appearance. “Do you always suck the warmth out of a room when you show up, or is Anne just special?”
Anne returned and handed him two soft, fluffy kitchen towels covered with a poinsettia print. “You’re welcome here anytime Drew, but I’d really prefer if you used the front door. Or call first. Something.”
“Sorry.” Drew wiped his face and sweatshirt with a towel, then patted spots on the couch and floor. “I can come back later.”
“No, you’re here now.” Anne sat in her armchair and waved for him to talk. “And Sophie obviously knows enough just from watching you arrive.”
“You’re the possessed kid, right?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah.” Drew blushed, though he had no idea why. He also bristled at being referred to as a kid, especially by someone near his own age.
“Yes, he is, and that’s something not to be repeated outside the coven.” Anne fixed Sophie with a stern gaze.
“What? You told your entire coven about me? Already?”
Anne waved him off. “They have a right to know. Sophie? This is important.”
Sophie shrugged, drawing Drew’s attention to the line of her neck and shoulders. Watching her took the bite out of his annoyance. If Anne had to tell people about him, at least the group included someone like Sophie.
“I understand,” Sophie said. “That was made clear before, even though no one asked me to swear an oath or anything.”
“Pull yourself together,” Kay snapped. “She’s not just a pretty girl. Watch yourself. And use self-defense as your tactical approach. We’re not trying to dominate ghosts, we’re trying to avoid domination by ghosts.”
“Right.” Drew hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He took a deep breath and made an effort to tear his eyes away from Sophie. “This thing happened today. I ran into a ghost, and it tried to dominate us. Turns out that Kay and I separate when we’re in that situation, which makes us both less powerful. So even though we should be able to win that kind of fight, we had to escape from it instead because it almost overwhelmed us. I’m hoping you have some ideas about how to fix that.”
Anne laced her fingers in her lap and stared at Drew for several seconds, as if waiting for more information. “You should be able to destroy a ghost without engaging it in a power struggle.”
“Deflect!”
Drew shrugged. “I guess, but I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t know it could happen. Kay’s experiences are pretty limited and his knowledge has a lot of gaps.”
“Good save.”
“Ah.” Anne nodded like she accepted his explanation. “Sophie, what do you think?”
Sophie set her teacup aside. She looked at Anne like she wanted to give whatever answer Anne expected. “Now that he knows what can happen, he can prepare defenses to avoid the situation?”
Anne nodded her agreement. “Yes, very good. The best option is to protect yourself from winding up in that position in the first place.”
“Crap. Pull some puppy-dog eyes on her?”
Drew sighed at the commentary in his head, wishing Kay would shut up. “I want to know what I can do if it ever happens again. Maybe I can defend myself well enough to avoid it, but also maybe I can’t. I don’t want to rely on evading the struggle only to have that fail while I’m still practicing and then be defenseless.”
Though Sophie said nothing, Drew noticed her brow twitch like she needed to think.
“Drew,” Anne said, “this isn’t my area of expertise. Or Sophie’s, for that matter. What I know about ghosts interacting with each other is based on an understanding of how magic works. Anyone or anything with a magical signature can be involved in a metaphysical power struggle, including witches, Spirit Knights, ghosts, and dragons.
“It sounds like you, personally, have no magical signature. Kay does. Because you occupy the same body, you both appear in that situation. I’d expect any possessed creature to have the same thing happen. It’s the connection between Kay and Drew that drags Drew into Kay’s battles. But that doesn’t give Drew any special abilities there, it merely forces you to be present. Do you understand so far?”
Trying not to show his disappointment, Drew nodded.
“Unless you can find some way to imbue the Drew part with a magical signature, the Kay part will always be at a disadvantage over normal ghosts in those situations.”
“So the next time a ghost forces
one on us, our only options are becoming some ghost’s slave or escape.”
“Don’t be petulant.” Anne huffed. She twitched her mouth and flicked her gaze from him to her cup, then to Sophie, and back to her tea. “Destroying ghosts is everyone’s problem now, and you’re part of everyone. Escape and deal with it on your terms. That’s your best option.”
“Fine.” Drew stood and tossed the towels on the couch. “Thanks for nothing.” He stormed out through the front door and slammed it shut. Anne knew something, but she wouldn’t tell him. Just like when she convinced Claire to swap stones for the ritual thing in Portland’s biggest node. She hadn’t told them what difference it made, she just decided they had the wrong stone type and abused Claire’s trust to substitute a different type without explaining anything. Anne knew best. Dumb kids were dumb.
The seal blew up, Claire became a ghost, and Drew still had Kay in his head. And most of that had been Anne’s fault. Justin was only the dumb grunt who dragged him into the demesne. Anne set the trap that caught Justin in the first place. But he still hated Justin. For… something.
He growled as he stalked around the house to the backyard, unwilling to risk being seen by anyone in the cars passing by on Harold Street while he made fog appear out of nothing. From the edge of the woods bordering Anne’s backyard, he saw the tree Justin had used as a gateway to take him into Kurt’s demesne, where Drew wound up possessed by this entity calling itself Kay. As in the first letter of Kurt’s name. Because it had nothing else to call itself.
“Hey,” Sophie called out.
Glancing over his shoulder, Drew caught sight of her jogging to his side. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he waited anyway. Midmorning sunshine made her hair glow. Girls like her ignored him at school. They had jock boyfriends. Not that he paid them any attention with Claire around. He took a deep breath to shove aside that bundle of frustrating and confusing emotions. Dealing with it took too much effort.
She slowed to a walk and joined him at the treeline, where overgrown weeds took over from the neatly trimmed grass. “Anne kind of annoys me sometimes too. But she’s the one with the most time to spare for teaching in the winter. And besides, she and my mom are besties. They went to high school together.”
Drew tried to care. He made an effort that failed spectacularly and ended with him grunting a wordless acknowledgment to show he heard her.
“You got possessed recently, right? Anne only told us all at the meeting yesterday.”
“Less than a week ago.”
“Rough.” Sophie rocked on her heels. “So, I came out after you because I don’t like it when Anne shuts me down about something I want to learn either. They always say to ask them any question, but then when you take them up on it? A whole different story. You don’t really need to know that. Even if it would save your life.”
Suddenly, Sophie had his attention. Drew met her gaze, surprised to see her smiling at him. “I just want to do my part to keep the area safe.” He tamped down the queasy churn of his stomach at the half-lie. “And if I’m going to put myself out there, I have to be able to defend myself.”
“I get that.” Sophie tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I don’t know exactly what to do, but I’m willing to try stuff if you are.”
Kay whistled. “And here I thought you had no idea how to deal with people, boy. That worked. Keep it up.”
His cheeks prickling with a light blush, Drew ducked his head. “Thanks. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Chapter 10
Claire
Clang, clang, clang. Claire pounded a length of sword-shaped iron with a hammer on an anvil next to a roaring fire. Sweat dripped from her forehead and ran down her back. After an incident with sparks, she now wore a leather apron with gloves, a bandanna covering her hair, and protective goggles over her eyes. The need for this gear made no sense, of course. She rolled with it.
Half the chunk of ore formed this proto-sword. The other half remained on top of a mold in the fire, melting into a sword shape. She had yet to hunt the buck. That part might take a while. What little she knew of curing hide and turning it into leather, though, wouldn’t take long to handle.
With every impact of her hammer, the sword grew clearer and sharper. Her swings settled into a rhythm. Every thought fled her mind, leaving her with nothing but the sword and the hammer, clang, clang, clanging again and again. The forge around her faded to white.
She hit the sword one more time and the metal slammed into the anvil, shattering both it and the sword. Shards of stone and metal punched through her body in white-hot spikes of burning pain and threw her. She fell. Twisting in the air, she tried to find the ground and saw nothing but white.
Solid earth appeared too late for her to evade it. She slammed into the ground and then through it. Her fall continued until giant crystals impaled her on their sharp spikes. For half a second, she blinked up at the white sky, too stunned to feel anything. Then the agony surged in, threatening to smother her. Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps while her blood dripped across the crystal tips to splat on the blank stone wall opposite her.
This reminded her of Caius and his stupid tests. Did the nature of a demesne naturally create tests like this, or had he forever tainted her view of how to accomplish things in a demesne? She guessed the latter. One more heap of blame to pile on that ancient jerk. If only she could destroy him a hundred times to repay him for everything he’d done.
Whimpering with every tiny movement, Claire wriggled and wrenched her leg until it came loose. She braced her foot against the floor of the pit for leverage as she freed herself one limb at a time. Halfway through, the last few crystal tips broke. Dropping to her hands and knees into a puddle of her own blood, she panted between sobs.
As she had on Earth, she healed from her locket outward. Her body pushed the crystal shards out to land on the rock with delicate, glass clinks. Metal and stone fragments followed the shards, adding their tiny tapping to the musical rain.
“My own demesne is trying to kill me.”
Never ready to give up, Claire waited until her strength returned and stood. She kicked at the crystals with her combat boots, knocking the tips aside, and used the crystal bases as hand- and footholds to climb out of the pit. At the top, she rolled onto her back on the smooth, stone ground.
“Will you pledge to me, in this place, that you will always uphold your duties as a Knight, no matter what may befall you?”
Claire blinked and turned her head to see Caius, the Ancient Roman spirit that had existed as the Heart of the Palace until yesterday. He stood the way he had when she first met him—tall and proud in his battle skirt and gleaming breastplate.
“You’re not real.”
“Tenacity. Strength of will. Courage.”
“I remember you saying that and I know you were destroyed. This is a memory. It’s jumbled-up and confused, but still just a memory.” She rolled to her side and sat up on her feet.
Caius drew his golden sword and stood ready to fight her.
“Go away,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m here to make a sword, not prove myself to you.” When Caius tensed, preparing to pounce on her, she stood and jabbed a finger at him. “I beat you. I may not have destroyed you, but I defeated you. You have no power here!”
He fizzled, leaving Claire standing in a small clearing surrounded by white fog.
“Well now, little girl. You’re kind of in a pickle, aren’t you.”
With an angry grimace, Claire whirled and punched Kurt in his misty face. “I did destroy you. Shoved Justin’s sword into your chest. Freed him, Anne, Drew, and all the dragons. And I didn’t die even though I expected to. That’s tenacity, strength of will, and courage for you. That was a real sacrifice, not a fake one. And…” Claire stared at the recoiling ghostly form, the next words on her tongue pricking into an idea.
“And it’s a memory. A memory with power,” she whispered. “Of course. Memory.” Every time
she remembered something important, she gained power. On Earth, she’d gained flecks of color. Those spots grew as she remembered and created new memories. No wonder ghosts grew in power as time passed.
She fell to the ground, just as she had when she’d destroyed Kurt’s Phasm. This time, she stared up at the empty sky of her demesne. Rondy stooped beside her and offered her both a hand and a friendly smile.
“Learned something, I hope?”
Claire sat up with his help. “Yeah. My demesne can be a real pain.”
“A demesne reflects its owner.” Rondy kept a straight face for a second, then he chuckled.
“Very funny.” She held out her hand and the sword flew to her from the forge. Curling her fingers around the metal hilt, she tilted it until she saw a reflection on the blade. But she didn’t see herself. Instead, she saw the view as she leaped into the air and slammed Justin’s sword through Kurt’s chest. This blade needed to know how to destroy ghosts. Kurt’s Phasm was the only ghost she’d ever destroyed. With this memory folded into the metal by her confrontation with Kurt, it knew what to do.
Watching that snippet of her memory, Claire realized she couldn’t picture it in her own mind anymore. The sword had taken it from her. As soon as she gave the sword to Justin, that piece of her went with it. If memories formed her power, she needed that piece more than Justin did. Worse, with no other memories of destroying ghosts to draw from, she could only ever create this single blade.
Avery needed a sword. Other Knights might also need weapons. Someone had to help them do their jobs, now more than ever. If she had the means, it might as well be her. For that, she needed to share this memory, not give it away.
“I don’t think so,” Claire growled. She let her first instinct take over and punched the sword. Her fist passed through the surface, shattering an unexpected pane of glass and throwing the shards deeper into the shining space within. “You don’t get to take this from me. You don’t get to take anything from me.”
She jammed her arm in up to her shoulder and groped inside the sword without being able to see it. Something sliced through her fingers. Despite the fresh pain, she gritted her teeth and kept trying to grab whatever cut her.
