“Is this really happening?” I asked, skimming the invitation again. “I don’t deserve this honor.”
“Triss,” Logan said, touching my cheek. “If anyone deserves this, you do. You believed in the coven when nobody else did. You believed that the coven would do what was right, that coven members would do what was right, even when they didn’t. When everyone else turned their backs in times of trouble, you stepped up to the plate. You did more than all of the elders combined. And they don’t even know you’re a Divinus.”
“Which might be one very good reason why I can’t accept this offer,” I said, folding the invitation back into the envelope. “Especially now. Now is definitely not the time.”
“Once a coven has elected a priestess, she can’t decline the appointment,” my mom said quietly.
I glanced nervously at Logan and then back at my mom. “Well, I’ve got a lot of things to work out before then. Winter solstice isn’t that far away, and I’d like to think some of these other things will be behind us by that time.”
My mom walked over to me and gave me a big hug. “I don’t think I’ve told you this often enough, but I’m really proud of you. I wish I could take credit it for it, but I really don’t think I can. You’re just you and so unique.” She took a step back and looked at Logan. “And thank you for being there for her when I wasn’t.”
Logan nodded and slid his arm around my waist. “It’s hard to believe. I mean has there ever been a priestess this young?”
“Not in the Witch Avenue Coven, but I’m not sure about anywhere else,” Ellsy said. She was standing next to my mom, looking equally as proud.
“Is there anything I’m supposed to do with this?” I asked, holding the letter. “Or do I just show up?”
“It really is already set in motion so the only thing we need to do is make sure you’re back in time for it,” my mom said. “At least, that’s what I gathered.”
I wanted to be excited but instead I was in denial. Judging by how things were going, I needed to stay there or else I’d never be able to complete anything.
“Is there anything else that could possibly jump out at me?” I asked.
“Don’t ask that,” my mom replied. “Besides you know the old adage…”
“I’ll never be given more than I can handle.” I smiled at her and suddenly felt at ease. This was what I was missing; my mom to always tell me everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn’t. Sometimes just hearing there’s a glimmer of hope is enough fuel to ensure that the final steps are achievable. “I know I’ve said this before, but it’s really wonderful having you back.”
“That it is,” my aunt chirped from behind. “And it will be even nicer when she can get back in her home and stay in it.”
They all started laughing and I felt at home. I only wished it would have lasted.
***
I woke up in a panic, gasping for air, as I tried to sit up to regain a sense of reality. My heartbeat’s incessant banging made my ears ring and disoriented me. It had to have been a nightmare, not a vision. It couldn’t have been a vision. I felt for Logan, but he wasn’t next to me, which mildly panicked me. But then the panic turned to anger as I realized what he must have done. He’d try anything to change my mind, to make me become immortal. He had to have implanted everything.
I closed my eyes, revealing the image of our daughter being ripped from my arms. All the feelings of motherhood washed through me. I knew this was my daughter. But how could this be? She looked to be only five or six at the oldest. Her long brown hair was braided, and she had Logan’s eyes. Those eyes — our daughter’s eyes— were filled with tears as she continued reaching for me, grabbing for me to hold onto her. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t hold on. I couldn’t reach her. A burning sensation pitted my throat, and I wanted nothing more than the nightmare to end, but these images were permanently imbedded in my mind. Whether or not these implanted memories were real or imagined, they played with the most personal and intimate connections I would be missing in my life. I would never be a mother to our child. I would never have a child. We would never be.
Our daughter’s screams ricocheted though my body, as I watched her being carried away by a stranger. My body was incapacitated. Something was holding me down in this alternate universe. I kept focusing on the images, trying to piece things together when it hit me. The man carrying my daughter away wasn’t a stranger. When my mind rewound, I realized it was Ethan. There were only a few people who knew about the connection to the Demonikers and only one powerful enough to place the images in my mind.
My eyes flashed open in a blaze of fury as I realized the love of my life tampered with my personal emotions. I ripped the sheets off of me and tore out of the bedroom, shouting for Logan. I could understand wanting to persuade me to choose immortality, but this was beyond low.
I charged down the hallway, knocking down one of the photographs off the wall. The glass shattered against the wood floor and did nothing to slow me down. I needed to confront Logan.
I could see the soft glow of the light in the study, but he wasn’t coming out to meet my hollers, only infuriating me more. I turned the corner of the hall, ready to battle with him about my future, when I saw him — defeated. He was sitting behind the desk, holding his head in his hands. His hair was plastered with sweat and his breathing hollow as if he was still trying to catch his breath.
“Did you see her too?” I asked quietly, as I stayed back toward the door. My fingers curled around the wood trim. He had a stack of spell books spread out on the desk and a cup of tea.
I walked toward him with my heart racing but now for a completely different reason. He unclamped his hands from around his head, slowly lifting his head to greet me. His blue eyes, still edged with silver, locked on mine. Shooting up from the chair, he got to me right before my legs gave out.
“Who did this to me, to us?” I cried, letting the tears finally release. My head pressed into the crook of his neck as his hands ran through my hair to calm me. “Who would be so cruel?”
“I don’t know, babe,” he whispered. “But we’ll find out.”
“She was beautiful,” I said softly.
Logan stiffened. His breath caught as he attempted to speak. “Yeah. She was. She looked like you.”
I lifted my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were kind, loving.
“I thought you implanted the images to…”
“I know. I figured as much when I heard you yelling.”
“I’m so sorry,” I wept. “Things feel so surreal. I’d never think you did that to me normally. I don’t understand what’s going on with my emotions.”
“For you to think it was me, told me just how often I’d been dropping hints. It’s not fair to you,” he whispered, shaking his head. I have to respect your wishes at some point. His eyes darkened as he looked behind me at the spell books.
“Do you think that could really be a possibility?” I asked quietly.
“A daughter…” he whispered. “It wasn’t something I ever allowed myself to imagine. It’s not until you can’t have something that you realize how badly you might want it.”
“I just don’t understand who would do this.” I shook my head.
“Maybe no one did this and it truly is a premonition,” he said quietly.
“Or this ties into what happened at Ethan’s when I locked our minds. He apparently gleaned onto my part in Lara’s death. I mean he was in the images…”
“That could be,” he sighed, running his hands along my arms. “Are you gonna be okay?” He took a step, locking his eyes on mine.
“Are you?” I asked, not answering his question.
He nodded and the silence that filled the room around us made me uncomfortable. There was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Why don’t you show me what you were looking up?” The tears surfaced once more, but I choked them down. Seeing the pain in Logan’s eyes was difficult enough. I didn’t need to add to the bur
den of sorrow we both experienced.
We went over to the desk, and I scanned the pages that he had the books opened to. A list in the first book caught my attention.
Delusions
Illusions
Specters
Mirages
Hallucinations
Implants
Phantasms
“I think someone did this to you,” he said, pointing at the Phantasm spell.
“And you,” I replied.
He looked away and bit his lip, remaining silent.
“What is it?” I pressed.
“What if the fairies were right?” he asked, sitting down in the chair. He pulled me into his lap.
“About what in particular?”
“I’m starting to think that someone cast this on either you or me but because we’re connected through the nectunt, it was able to spread between us. It would make sense,” he said softly.
“Don’t tell me the next thing you think is that we should separate?” I wrapped my arm around his neck and nestled into him.
“I think Ethan did this to you. Or maybe he did it through me. I’m not really sure. But regardless something happened that placed these illusory images of a daughter in both of us, and I’d say it shook us to the core. Wouldn’t you?” he asked.
I didn’t want to admit it, but it did.
I nodded slowly.
“What if it was a premonition?” I asked. “Like you said?”
“Your decision to reject immortality has been solid. I don’t see how your subconscious, vision or not, would allow for that. Your mind knows better than to search data out like that in the other realm.”
“So you think it’s Ethan,” I said.
Logan nodded, running his fingers through my hair. “I do.”
“Unfortunately, whatever his plan was, I think it worked. I’m completely destabilized.”
“Your senses are still too exposed. If Ethan can tap into your mind like that either through me or even through you, it leaves a really troubling scenario behind, and I think I should go talk to Dace and Bakula.”
“I think you’re right. I had wanted to leave them out of it,” I sighed.
“You’re going to the Zelo corporate offices tomorrow, right?”
I nodded. Since Zelo would have no idea who I was, we hoped I could get in there and plant a little bug in the owner’s ear to mess with them. It would hopefully get the Praedivinus and Demonikers a little fired up.
“That’s probably as good a time as any for me to go talk to Dace and Bakula,” he responded. “Until then, let’s try to get some sleep.”
“Not gonna happen, but I’ll try.”
We slowly walked back to the bedroom, stepping over the mess I caused when the framed photo shattered. Tomorrow would work just as well to pick it up as today.
I crawled under the sheet and comforter, feeling the crispness of cotton against my skin. Logan wrapped his arm around me as I tucked into him.
“We’re gonna get through this and then we’ll just be…” his words trailed off.
I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep, surprised when the morning light woke me. I hadn’t even moved from where I fell asleep. Logan’s arm was still wrapped around me, and my pillow was still squished into a lumpy mess. Neither of us appeared to have even moved a muscle. I rubbed his arm, waking him slowly. Turning around to face him, he looked exhausted. His eyes were sunken and faint circles appeared under his eyes. I’d never seen him this zapped of energy. But I felt the same way.
“I guess we should get up,” I said. “I doubt even if I stayed in bed all day, I’d feel any more energetic,” I muttered.
“I know what you mean.” He scooted up in the bed and threw the sheets off of his body, leaning over the edge. He held his head in his hands as he sat for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what was bothering him the most, and I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know. “Pretty incredible news about you being appointed the priestess, huh?” He flashed his gorgeous smile and a piece of me melted.
“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.” I nodded. It would be even more incredible if I could enjoy the station for more than a year or two.
Logan stood up and walked toward the bathroom. He stopped and turned toward me. “You know I respect whatever decision you decide on. But I hope you at least allow yourself the opportunity to imagine what it could be like…living past your twentieth birthday.”
***
The lobby was tastefully decorated. A bookcase dominated one wall. Two long couches with dark pine side tables adorning the ends of both made up a sitting area. The large six-paneled door was ajar, and it took everything I had not to go nosing around before I was invited. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk. I could just leave the envelope on her desk and take off. That would be the safest method. But it wouldn’t guarantee that the letter would be read.
I heard voices on the other side of the door and stiffened. A woman’s voice laughed as she pushed open the door. She was beautiful, dressed in black pants and a deep, green cashmere sweater. Her red hair was in a loose bun, and her brown eyes were pleasant as she looked over at me.
“Something I can help you with?” she asked.
“I wanted to drop this off for Mr. Sanders,” I said, walking over to her desk.
“Is it business or personal?” she asked, narrowing her eyes on me.
“A bit of both I guess you could say. I think he’ll find it interesting.”
Her arm extended, and I placed the ivory envelope in her hand. “Mr. Sanders happens to be here today. His flight was cancelled because of the blizzard in Illinois. I’ll be sure to give this to him.” She smiled.
“Thanks,” I replied.
The phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” she said to me, picking up the receiver.
“Yes, Mr. Sanders. I’ll be right in,” she spoke into the phone and then hung up.
“Printer problems.” She smiled at me and waved the envelope in her hand.
“Always something,” I replied, and turned around to leave the lobby.
“Did you want to wait a minute since he’s here… In case he wants to speak to you about whatever this is?” she asked.
“That would be lovely,” I replied.
“Great. Have a seat, and I’ll let you know one way or the other in a few minutes. May I have your name, please?”
“Stacy,” I replied. I should be able to remember that name if needed.
I took a seat on one of the long couches and scanned the library of books. Most were on the history of the Pacific Northwest, Industry, and Arts, the usual bland selections for waiting rooms. As each minute ticked by, the nervousness began encroaching. There was no doubt that if he took the letter seriously he would want to speak with me, even if it was to discredit me.
The receptionist entered the lobby once more, smiling.
“Mr. Sanders would like to see you,” she said.
I stood up, pushing the anxiety down as I thought about what I was possibly going to say, and walked toward the woman.
“He has no idea about our world,” she whispered. “And I’d keep it that way if I were you.”
Startled, I looked at her, looking at me. Was she connected to one of the Orders?
“No need to worry,” she continued, smiling. “I know who you are, Triss. And your secret is safe with me.”
My blood was pumping so hard I could barely hear anything as she led me through the door. The room was a copier-slash-mail room. There were two large counters, with various office tools placed along the back.
She continued leading me through the space but then slowed down and quickly turned toward me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’d make that expression disappear before you meet Mr. Sanders. I figured you knew I was one of you,” she whispered.
“I felt no magic from you,” I said. “And saw no outward sign.”
“Interesting,” she muttered as she began walking down the hall. I followed her, attempt
ing to keep up with the fast pace her long legs afforded her, as we walked by office after office until we reached the end of the hall.
The door was open and Mr. Sanders was already standing up, walking over to me.
“Thank you, Beth. That’s all,” he said, eyeing her and then turned his attention to me.
I walked further into his office, the space mimicking the lobby.
“So you make very startling allegations,” he began, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, please.”
I nodded and sat down as he went to the window and stared through the glass for a minute, contemplating what to say. He walked toward his large desk chair and sat down.
“Mr. Sanders—”
“Call me Bill,” he interrupted.
“Bill, I felt it was only the right to inform you of the waste that is going on,” I began.
“I appreciate that. If I can trust what you’re alleging is true.” His hands cupped together as he leaned on the desk.
“I have firsthand knowledge that neither company has the ingredient that they’ve implied.”
“And how do you know this?” he asked.
“Because I work for and am the daughter of the CEO of Praedivinus Industries. On my father’s passing, I inherited the company. And my aunt was the head of the Demonikers,” I replied, hoping those connections would imply enough inside knowledge.
“Zelo has been pouring money into the development of…” Bill’s voice trailed off.
“We are prepared to compensate you for the losses your company has incurred due to our negligence. On one condition.”
Bill leaned back, his lip curved into a smile. “And what is that?”
“That you hold the Demonikers to the same standard. They can’t provide you with the ingredient either, no matter their promises. You have my word on that. Pull your resources from their project and demand to be compensated under the faulty premise that they’ve presented,” I said.
“So you’re telling me—”
“That you can expect a check from us within thirty days. I don’t intend to do business the way the rest of my family did, and I’ll rectify where I can, when I can.”
Witch Avenue Series (The Complete Set) Page 83
