She whirled back to me, her ivory dress floating around her. “I knew you’d be powerful, Defiance, but I had no idea you’d be capable of something like this.” She looked down, gesturing to herself. “You brought me out of the veil.”
“Yes, but you’re solid,” I repeated.
A sad smile spread across her face. “As the day I died.” She held out her hand. To show me, I guessed.
I pretended not to see it and stepped to her potter’s bench to examine a bottle of seeds.
An adorable brown mouse peeked out from behind it.
Surprise wrenched a yelp from my throat. Retreating, I bumped into one of her shelves.
Glass jars wobbled and clinked together in a crystalline chime before settling back down.
Annoyed with myself, I clenched my teeth. I needed to get a grip. To focus. I was here for a reason, and it was not to kiss and make up with my formerly dead, and maybe still dead, but solid grandmother.
A single vine slid up the shelves beside me and eased into my palm. The calm that followed was both welcome and reassuring.
Ruthie’s expression morphed from dejection to irritation. She entered a stare down with the vine. “I’m only letting you stay for our granddaughter, Percy.” Then she broke her glare and glanced up at me. “He’s not normally allowed in my arts and crafts room.” Her ire didn’t last long. Wrapped in a silver glow that matched her hair, translucent and luminous, Ruthie smiled at me. “You did this, Defiance. Never in all of my years on this Earth have I even heard of someone being lifted out of the afterlife. It’s a miracle.” She spun in a circle like a princess whirling around a dance floor.
I smiled despite myself. She was delightful. For a mass murderer.
“You did this,” she repeated.
“Yes, and then I fell asleep for six months. Some witch I turned out to be.”
“No.” She started forward but held herself back. “It’s only because it’s all so new, sweetheart.”
“I did stuff as a kid and was fine. Look at Roane.” I’d been asked to find a missing boy—who’d turned out to be Roane. Kind of. The real boy had already been killed by his father and buried, so when I’d sent out my magics to find him, I’d accidentally transformed a trapped and injured wolf pup into the boy. And the rest, as they say . . .
“And then you slept for three days.”
Surprised, I gave her my full attention. “I did?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of this. I remembered you being exhausted after a spell, but you were a child. It was expected. Then I remembered on three separate occasions, after particularly taxing spells, you fell asleep for days.”
“Days is a lot shorter than months. How was I stronger as a kid than I am as an adult?”
“That’s not the case at all.” She sat on a stool at the table and opened another book. “For one thing, your magics are even more powerful now. You should’ve grown with them. Into them. Not have them thrust upon you out of the blue. I didn’t realize what that would do to you.”
“It’s not your fault, Ruthie.” And that wasn’t. It was the other stuff . . .
She stilled for a moment, the slightest wince crossing her face as though I’d hurt her. It had meant a lot to her, before, when I’d called her Grandma and then finally Gigi. But either way, she was simply Ruthie at the moment. Delightful and elegant and strong but still Ruthie.
Like maybe she understood that, she recovered with a quick shake of her silver bob. “I think thrusting this upon you was like putting a bomb into a steel box to let it explode safely.”
Not quite following, I frowned at her.
“If the metal isn’t properly conditioned, the bomb will destroy the box regardless. The steel has to be heated, forged in fire, to be able to withstand the immense pressure of the explosion. I think that’s what happened to you. You haven’t been properly conditioned, and we just tossed all that power into you with no fortification and no release valve.”
“Maybe that explains why I’ve never done well under pressure.” My joke fell flat.
She stood and rounded the table. “But you didn’t explode. The magics didn’t destroy you. They nourished you. They shaped you. Just like the fires of a blacksmith, they made you stronger.”
Percy squeezed my hand with the vines as though he agreed.
Ruthie studied me. “I can feel it emanating out of you. You’re like a huge ball of energy seeking an outlet, and—”
“You’re wrong.”
Her gaze returned to mine. “I’m wrong?”
“Yes. You’re wrong.” I pulled my hand away from Percy’s embrace. Lying to her would be harder than lying to Annette. “They’re gone.”
Her forehead creased. “What are gone, sweetheart?”
I bit down, then lifted my chin and charged forward. “My powers. I don’t have them anymore.”
She laughed in disbelief. “Defiance, I can feel them from here.”
Of course she could. She saw things Nette didn’t. “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but it’s not my powers. They’re gone.” Was there a way to hide them from her? I’d have to look into that.
“No.” She shook her head, confused. “No, they can’t be gone. You’d be dead.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” I lifted a hapless shoulder. “They took the midnight train going anywhere. Thus, there’s no reason for me to stay.” And so many for me to go. I saw what my words did to her, the distress they caused, yet still I pressed forward, like the cold-hearted bitch I’d never been. But it had to done. “I’m moving back to Arizona as soon as I can.”
She gaped at me. “But . . . but your dads are here.” Her expression almost broke my resolve. “And Annette. And . . . and Roane.”
“I’ll tell them tonight,” I said.
“You just need to practice. To get stronger.” She lowered her voice. “They will come for you.”
“Oh, right. The big bad wolf.”
“No, he’s next door,” she said, only half teasing.
“Let them.”
“Defiance, you must take this seriously. The most we did by dispersing your aura was buy you some time. You must be ready.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away again.
I fought the sting at the backs of my eyes. “I’ll be gone by the end of the week. But first, I would like an explanation.”
She settled back onto the stool and kept her gaze downcast. “I suppose you’d like the whole story.”
My stomach flip-flopped. I reached down, let a vine wrap around my wrist, tangle into my fingers, and braced myself. “I would like the whys and wherefores, yes.”
Ruthie nodded. “Do you remember the video I showed you of you finding Roane when you were three?”
I nodded. Now we were getting somewhere. “And I was three when my mother died.”
She nodded in turn. “That night we had no idea you’d performed more than a simple reveal spell. We didn’t know, and quite frankly wouldn’t find out for years, that you’d actually transformed a wolf into a boy.”
“Who’s now a shapeshifter.” If we were being honest, I was still in awe over the whole thing.
“Exactly. But you fell asleep that night. We knew instantly you were in a suspended animation. It was the third time it had happened to you, so when a couple of days passed, we weren’t terribly worried. Still, someone always stayed with you.” Ruthie’s eyes glistened in the gaslight. “Your mother insisted she would watch over you when I went to sabbath.” She fidgeted with the neckline of her dress, her gaze sliding into the past. “While there, I felt a prickling.”
“A prickling?” Like the one niggling at the back of my neck, standing up all the hairs there?
“Percival’s essence had never gone beyond the walls of this house, but I . . . I felt him. Like pinpricks on my skin.”
Percy’s hold tightened, and I swallowed hard, dreading where this was going.
“I hurried home and . . .” She took a sip of her tea.
&
nbsp; When she didn’t continue, I encouraged her with a firm, “Ruthie.”
“I caught your mother trying to siphon your powers.”
As I absorbed what she was trying to tell me, her cup clinked against the saucer.
“But that would mean . . .” My voice was a mere whisper, so quiet I wondered if she could hear me. “She was trying to kill me.”
Her fingers tightened around the cup. “I’m sorry, Defiance. That’s why I felt I had no choice.”
“You killed her to save me.” Her revelation left me stunned and heartbroken. All these years, I’d dreamt of a mother who’d given me up for adoption because she’d had no choice. She’d wanted me to have a better life. She’d sacrificed everything to let me go.
As far as lies I liked to tell myself over the years, that one was a doozy. The woman who bore me had no love for me at all. Probably never did. I was forty-four—nope, forty-five—and I stood there, chin quivering, like a child mourning the loss of a love that never existed. “I’ll be gone by the end of the week.”
I disentangled the vines again and swung open the door, only to come face-to-face with Roane’s closed door across the foyer. I needed to apologize to him. To explain my horrid behavior. But I just didn’t have it in me at that moment. I had a murderous, soul-sucking mother to mourn.
“He isn’t there.” Ruthie stood behind me. “I believe he’s making you dinner.”
The scent drifting down the stairs almost dropped me and made me suddenly ravenous. Too bad sorrow and humiliation would prevent me from partaking.
“Before you leave . . .” Ruthie’s voice filled with sadness. “The coven would love to meet you.”
I pivoted to face her. “Why? I have no powers.”
“They know what you did. How you saved not one but two women’s lives. How you extracted me from the veil. They’ve helped watch over you for months. They’d love to meet you, even for just a few minutes.”
I nodded, then took the stairs and hurried to my room. Only my door was blocked by a plant. I stepped forward, but this time the vines didn’t move. “Percy?” I asked warily. “What’s going on?”
“Dinner.” My dads appeared on the mezzanine behind me. “You haven’t eaten in six months, cariña.”
I turned to gape at Percy—well, the part of him covering the door—then turned back to my dads. “You guys are in cahoots?”
“We are cahooting,” Dad said.
The vines flourished behind me, pushing me toward my dads.
“Hey,” I said, pretending to be offended.
Papi joined in. “We have decided to cahoot. It’s for your own good.” Each dad took an arm and led me back down the stairs, Percy still nudging me from behind.
“Is this like an intervention or something?”
“More of a cahoot-uh-vention,” Papi said, ever the wordsmith.
By the time I’d been cahooted all the way into the formal dining room, I was livid. Or I could’ve been if I’d given it my all. “I am not a cow, Percy. You don’t need to herd me.”
He backed off at last while Dad pulled out a chair for me, waiting behind it, his expression insistent.
I sat, and he smiled.
The scent of whatever Roane had been cooking reminded me of every meal I’d missed over the last six months. I could only hope no one noticed the drool. I focused on the spread, recognizing Dad’s handiwork in the carnitas. And Papi’s baking with the homemade Hawaiian rolls and the pineapple upside-down cake he knew I loved. Even Annette had pitched in with her turkey and green chile pinwheels. There was no order to the meal. It was a hodgepodge of all my favorite foods, including macaroni and cheese, lobster bisque, and shepherd’s pie.
“This looks amazing.” I grabbed a plate. “Who made the shepherd’s pie?”
“I did.” A smooth, deep voice drifted toward me.
I didn’t want to look. But his voice had the power of a giant magnet that picked up old cars, and it pulled me in like I was a wrecked Malibu in dire need of an oil change and some minor body repair.
Holding a drink loosely in his hand, he took a seat at one end of the table, leaning back in his chair with an elbow on one elaborately carved arm.
My insides melted. Then I remembered the accosting I’d given him. And my cheeks melted too. “It looks delicious.” I decided to feign amnesia.
He decided to give me a simmering once-over with a side of hot flash.
I sat at the opposite end of the table, facing the wolf head on.
Annette and the chief joined my dads, sinking into chairs they’d obviously claimed a while ago. The only one missing was Ruthie. The world had changed so much while I was out. It was like they’d become a family, and I was the awkward cousin who’d come to visit.
Platters of food were passed around, and I took a little of everything. Not to be nice, but because it all looked so good, and there was something voracious about breaking a six-month fast.
Halfway through the meal, my grandmother was still a no show. “What about Ruthie?”
The chief dropped his gaze. “She won’t come up.”
“Because she doesn’t eat?” Maybe she didn’t. Although, she had been drinking tea.
“We really aren’t sure,” Annette answered.
“All we know for certain,” Papi chimed in, “is that she can’t leave the house.”
“What do you mean?” That was a tad alarming. “She’s stuck here too? Like Percy?”
He nodded. “As far as we know.”
“Well, that sucks.” I pointed my fork at Annette. “I thought you were supposed to be at work.”
“I got fired.”
“Again?” Papi wiped his face with a napkin and poured himself some water from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“It’s the tourists. They’re rude. They get in my face, I’m gettin’ in theirs.” She added some flavor to that last part with a mediocre Godfather impersonation.
Papi laughed. “You realize we’re only one step up from being tourists ourselves.”
“We’re worse,” Dad said. “We’ve seized the land and taken up arms. We’re interlopers. Trespassers. Invaders.”
“Have you been studying that thesaurus again?” I grinned at him. “Quick, what’s the opposite of a carpetbagger?”
“Scalawag,” he shot back.
It was a good word. I’d have to remember to use it later. I took turns eating small bites of all the different food I’d crammed onto my plate while everyone else talked and laughed. Watching them interact warmed me to my toes.
Roane, quiet as always, kept his gaze focused my direction. It was both unsettling and exhilarating.
Several things needed to be said, but I didn’t dare apologize in front of everyone. I’d embarrassed him—and me—enough for one day. Maybe for tomorrow’s daily dose of humiliation I could talk about the female reproductive system or hunt down some pics of wolf pups and pass them around as Roane’s baby pics. Do the job right.
Under the table, something brushed my ankle, curling around it as soft as a cat’s tail.
It wasn’t Ink. He’d jumped into Roane’s lap. And Roane was making him a small plate, holding it while the ragged beast joined us in the festivities.
Smiling at the cat’s loud purr—that I heard all the way across the table—I looked down at my ankle to see Percy’s vines.
Percy had scaled back the vines dramatically. For the most part, they were no longer on the floors or the walls. They’d latticed up the corners and along the black-lacquered crown molding to create a gorgeous frame. The roses seemed a deeper red now, but they were still framed in a dusky black, every petal a work of art.
A stunning Murano chandelier, made from black handblown glass—that probably took a huge chunk out of what would’ve become my inheritance—hung low over the table. It twirled and corkscrewed, forming the general shape of a spikey teardrop. The décor, all heavy wood, thick and black, finished the room with a morbid kind of elegance. Ruthie was nothing if not a
vant-garde.
After swallowing yet another spoonful of a lobster bisque I wanted to get drunk on, I looked at the vine gliding across the table. Rather than dropping the bomb that I was leaving, I picked a safer subject. “Why can’t Percy go into the secret passageways?” Since the only person in the room who might have an answer sat directly across from me, I glanced at him.
“You’d have to ask him.” Evasive as ever, Roane stroked Ink’s patchwork fur but kept his gaze locked on me. The fact that he didn’t mind an animal at the table made me worship him all the more. Then again, he was an animal. It would’ve been rather bigoted of him to banish the furball.
“Percy doesn’t talk much,” I countered. “So, I thought you might know.”
The vine brushed the back of my hand lovingly.
“The house was built in the early 1800s.” The chief stopped eating long enough to speak up. “There isn’t much information about the original owner, your ancestor, except that he was a shipping magnate. And that the whole family, save one, died of fever. Not even Ruthie knows more than that.”
A heaviness pushed against my chest. “That’s sad.” The overwhelming majority of a family lost in one fell swoop. “I wish I could ask you,” I whispered to the vine.
It coiled, almost into a smile, and urged my hand up, encouraging me to eat. Having a pet plant was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It so beat a pet rock.
The meal was quickly coming to a close. Not that I was going anywhere without a slice—or seven—of pineapple upside-down cake. I had lost meals to make up for. But when it came to that bomb, it was now or never. Mustering all the courage I could, I cleared my throat. “I have to tell you guys something.”
Everyone stopped talking and gave me their undivided attention. Well, everyone except Roane. I already had his undivided. Even divided, his attention was a heady thing, though it did make breathing difficult.
I swallowed hard. “I’ve lost my powers.”
My dads stared at me, blinking occasionally to let me know they were still alive. The chief seemed shocked as well.
Bewitched: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Betwixt & Between Book 2) Page 4
