“No,” I said flatly. “It doesn't.”
Connie rolled her eyes. The dog growled. My mother, however, looked at me with a steadfast curiosity that was almost amusing; you know, if it hadn't been directed at me.
“How so?”
I blew out a long breath. I sat up straight, not because I thought I was better than my mom, though I pretty much believed I was, but because sometimes you had to get a little full of yourself to get your point across. The sleeves of my dream gown slithered over the arm rests as I folded my hands in front of me. “It's a bad comparison. No, it's a crap comparison. A nuclear bomb has one ability. It's destroys. It falls out of the sky, gives this big ol' blast of EMP, which wrecks technology, and then it obliterates an area of life and everything in it.
Then, you know what? It lingers. If the bomb is big enough and bad enough, it doesn't even allow for regrowth after that because is screws up the area so badly. But you know what? The same can't be said for magic. Magic has the ability to protect. It has the ability to help things grow. It has the ability to heal. Yeah, it can hurt people. No argument there. But at the end of the day, it's more complex than comparing it to a stupid nuclear bomb.”
I hadn't even known that was my view until the words started pouring out of my mouth. Yeah, at first, I had been okay with the magic=weapon idea, but now? No. I had dipped my toes into the possibilities of magic and knew better.
Connie's lip curled into a wolfish snarl. My mother's mouth settled into a bemused grin. She almost looked proud. Then again, maybe that was just my inner child wishing really hard.
“An interesting view. But let us say that there are only one or two of the people who inherit magic because of your fulfillment of this prophecy. What about all the deaths that they accomplish?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. Even for a dream, that was a cheesy line of thought. “Is this the blood on my hands speech? Because if it is, you lose major cool points. Sad because you don't have all that many to start off with. But again, I'm going to have to say no. If I give someone something, anything, and they use that to kill someone, it's not my fault. That death is on them.”
“Even if you know that they could use it as a weapon?” Connie demanded.
“Seriously, in this day and age, anything can be used as a weapon. Someone assaulted an old woman with a loaf of bread the other day. Is it the bakery's fault? Nope. It's on the shoulders of the person who committed the assault. Plain and simple.”
“So why not just give everyone a gun?”
I rolled my eyes again. I did not want to stay on this soapbox in my dreams, but it didn't look like I was going to be awake anytime soon. “Uugh. We already covered this. Guns have only one ability. To hurt. That's it. That's all they can do. Let's use a better comparison here. Let's use a Swiss Army Knife, the multi-tool of doom. A tool that can help you survive in the right circumstances. Then, let's say that we can attach a smart phone and a personal doctor to that SWK. I'm all for giving everyone one of those. That's awesome. Leaving that tool in the hands of just a few is, as far as I can tell, creating a class system that we don't need.”
“How liberal of you,” my mother said. Now, she didn't sound proud.
I shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I work fast food. You tend to get pretty liberal after being stuck in minimum wage for four years.”
Connie scoffed. I was surprised she was being so vocal in my dreams. Usually, she was quiet.
“Well then, that settles it.”
“Settles what?” I said. My mother had sounded pretty fatalistic.
“You'll have to die.” She drew her hand down the table. Her fingers made an intricate pattern so quick my eyes couldn't follow. But I could see the trail her fingers made. They created a glowing circle on the wood, split into three perfect sections. Symbols I didn't understand shimmered between the lines both inside the circle and outside. Watching the swim of light made me nauseous.
Okay. I totally wanted to wake up now. I told my body to be conscious, but it was like pulling away from cold molasses. The dream sucked me down.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. I felt sick to my stomach. Everything was swimming. The walls weren't white anymore. They were the same acid green as the magic my mother used, the same color as the storm in my first weird dream. Not cool. “Back off.”
I threw up my hands. I knew I could create a magical barrier. I pictured a perfect glass ball around me, like a great big hamster ball but only half as adorable. My magic pushed into it, but it didn't feel like glass; it felt like a bubble, pliable and easily broken. My mother reached out a hand. The symbol she had drawn on the table echoed in her palm.
The dog howled. The bubble broke. And I screamed as a pain I had no chance of describing ripped right through me.
“Lorena!” I heard a voice from a very long way off. I really wanted to follow it.
“What are you doing?” I asked again.
“I really hoped that we could be close,” my mother said. “I'm sorry.”
Weird, I thought as I felt a pounding behind my eyes, she didn't sound all that sorry. She sounded happy. The inner child in me, the one who had hoped with everything she had that my mom might not be a wholly terrible person, threw a tantrum.
How dare she! Because we had a difference of opinion on magic, she was going to…what? Kill me? Nope. Not gonna happen. I had stuff to do. I had a prophecy to fulfill and some fuzzy feelings to figure out. This whole death thing was just not going to work out for me.
Anger, hot and wild, swam through my veins. It burned away the pain behind my eyes, the sickness in my stomach. It burned like a forest fire, obliterating all the unwanted and leaving nothing in its wake. For a split second, I saw the flash of eyes like volcanic glass glimmering at me from the distance of consciousness.
Then, the strangest thing happened. I heard a cat yowl. It echoed through the dreamscape and seemed to clear the last bits of confusion from my mind. When it was done, I felt cold. More than that, I felt powerful. Magic spilled through me, gathering in my palms like a phantom wind. I got up out of my dream throne and hurled one hand at my mother, and one at my sister.
This was my dream, I screamed inside my own head, and I was master here. My mother let out a gasp as she slammed against the wall. She disappeared in a wisp of gray smoke. Moments later, my sister did the same. The dog went with her.
“Lorena!” the voice called again.
I woke up with a hiss of pain. Dear god, everything hurt. I felt like I had run fifteen miles after completing some Mr. Universe triathlon. I was made of rubber, warm rubber. I was burning up and cold all at once. The pillow beneath my head was soaked with sweat.
Jenny stood over me. Her eyes were wide with fear. I could smell salt and earth. Those were Jenny's elements. “Hold on!” she cried out, taking my face between two very warm hands. “Grandma's on the way.”
Oh good, I thought because my mouth couldn't form the words. I was glad someone was coming who might be able to help. Because if I had to go on living like this, the chances of me actually being able to do that whole prophecy thing were slim to none.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marquessa Green was beautiful in the way that only older women could be. You just didn't get that kind of elegance and confidence before you hit the mid-thirties. Her mahogany face with its honey highlights stared down at me with all the warmth and compassion that a woman with multitudinous grandchildren could have. The last time I had seen her, she had her salt and pepper hair, more pepper than salt, in the natural tight curls of a woman of African descent. Some capable fingers had coiled those into a series of complicated braids that formed a woven crown around her head. Someone had stuck some flowers in the crown too. I thought that was neat. More older women ought to wear flower crowns.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
I still couldn't answer. I managed, just barely, to let my head fall to the left and the right in a slow yet exaggerated 'no'.
“That bad, huh
?” she asked. Her Appalachian voice was twice as thick as her granddaughter’s. “Seems 'bout right. Nearly got your soul ripped out of your body. Can't much think of anything that will hurt like that.”
My soul? If my body, still feeling like a hundred and thirty pounds of half-melted putty, had been capable, I would have shivered. As it was, I just sank a few more centimeters into the net of blankets and quilts that Jenny had tucked me into. I was grateful for it. I had been pretty cold.
“Alright,” Marquessa said, pulling up a large bag. The scent of herbs swarmed me, and I felt all the better for it. “Well then, let’s see what we can do.”
She began to hum a soft song with the tempo of a lullaby. Her hands, covered in an herbal cream, touched my brow.
“Jenny,” she said.
My best friend (and savior as far as I could tell) leaned over me. She placed a stone on my forehead. Magic radiated through me. Jenny started to hum too. Her song was different, but it seemed to mesh with Marquessa's. They placed another bit of cream and a stone on my lips, my throat, on my chest, solar plexus, belly, and over that place where period cramps happen. With each stone, I felt a little better.
I wasn't sure if this went on for minutes or hours. Time didn't seem to have a whole lot of meaning right then. I was just a body that felt half-formed and barely there, boneless and exhausted. I let them work their magic. I think, at some point, I slept. Because when I woke up, the stones were gone and I was feeling a whole lot better.
I sat up, which was definitely a step in the right direction. My head spun, and I felt weak, but I could move.
“Well, now,” Marquessa said. “There you are.”
I was in my grandmother's room, the big comfortable bed nested high with pillows and blankets. Marquessa, wearing a pair of comfortable pants and a loose shirt, looked me over. It was either really early or really late. I wasn't sure which I would have preferred.
“Mostly,” I said. “Thanks for...what you did.”
She waved a hand. “It was my pleasure. I'm sure you'll return the favor one day.”
I wasn't sure that I could, but if I could, I knew that I would. “Here's hoping I never have to. What the heck happened?”
“Your mother must have held on to a piece of you when you left. A hair or something similar. She bound herself to your dreams and, in so doing, tried to pull your soul from your body.”
I don't know why I was expecting a more complicated response, but there it was. “Oh.”
“I can assume she was going to pass your prophecy on to her other daughter.”
Yeah, I thought, that sounded about right. “Well, what can we do to stop that from happening again?”
Marquessa seemed to think that over. “Dream magic is not something I know very well. I will have to call a few people, see what I can do. Perhaps I should have been doing that, anyway. It was prideful, mayhap even foolish of me, to think that I and my granddaughter, would be enough to handle this. Foolish to think that a child would be born fast enough that the Order would never know until it was too late.”
If I had had it in me to be angry, I would have been, but I was too tired for that. “You know about the Order? What they wanted?”
She nodded. “I knew. That first night...when your mother appeared...I suspected, later...I knew.”
A tinge of anger flickered through me. “Maybe next time don't keep it a secret.”
She nodded. “You're right. I should have told you. For that, I am sorry.”
See, I thought to my mom. That's how you apologize. No excuses, no crap. Just a flat out 'I'm wrong.'
“Who will you call?”
Marquessa sighed. “Whoever will listen. There are only so many witches, but I will call the ones I know, and they will call the ones they know.”
“It sounds like an army.” I meant it as a joke, but the solemn face she gave me told me this was probably not a laughing matter. “That's a fun expression.”
“She attacked you, Lorena. That's an act of war if I ever heard one.”
She swung suddenly to standing. “The first thing you can do is revitalize the wards in this place. Its occupant has been gone too long.”
“Here I thought that you were going to send me back to the vampire house.”
She gave me a knowing smile. “If I thought you would stay there, I jus' might.”
She had a point there. I had absolutely no desire to stay at that place. While it had the kind of opulence that a lot of people might like to revel in, I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed there, though that might have more to do with the men than it had to do with my feelings on wealth. “Why do I get the feeling that you are leaving?”
She reached over and patted my cheek. “Many witches do not live where technology can touch. I'll have to travel a while. Be safe. Learn to protect yourself.”
She stood up slowly and looked back over her shoulder. “Dreams are a scary place, Lorena, even without magic involved.”
Her words made my skin tingle, and I wasn't sure why.
~~
Jenny had left me a note saying she'd be over when she got off of work. That I needed to rest. To stay indoors. I smirked. Was this what having a family was about? Not the trying to kill me so that a big fancy prophecy could work out how they wanted, but the caring about each other part? I hoped so. I liked that.
Rest, I thought. I could do that. I was a gamer and a nerd. Resting was something I knew how to do. I plopped myself down on the couch and pulled out some comics, re-read some DC to get into the mindset of being all powerful, and then decided it was time for video games. A couple hours later, I had died seven times and decided I might not be as great at this resting thing as I thought.
Marquessa was gathering a miniature army of witches. I had nearly had my soul sucked out. My dreams were no longer a safe place. And I was pretty sure I had seen Wei's eyes in my dreams. Ugh. Coming to my grandmother's was supposed to have made my life less complicated, not more so.
When it got dark, I made myself a sandwich. Someone, Jenny probably, had stocked my fridge with easy-to-make meals. I appreciated that. Complicated anything was just not what I wanted right now.
I had just taken my first bite of ham and swiss when I heard a cat meow. I blinked, suddenly remembering the sound of the cat in my dream. It had come right after the flash of eyes. I frowned at that. The feeling in the dream had been a good one, an empowering one. Besides, cats were cool. I set the sandwich down and did the most cliché thing in the world.
“Here, kitty kitty.”
I felt a tiny tug of magic. Not much. No more than a spider web’s worth of a tug. But when I looked up, a cat was sitting by my sandwich. At first glance, he (I was only guessing on the gender part) was sitting by my sandwich, sniffing regally at the bread. He was a gray tabby with a slender and long body and a tuft of white at his neck.
“Hello there.”
He turned his eyes on mine, and I went still. That cat wasn't real. Okay, I felt like it was there, but it wasn't really real. It was, if I was guessing right, a ghost. It flickered just a little as I focused on it. Like a gif that didn't quite match its loop.
It meowed at me again and sniffed at my sandwich.
“Ghost cat,” I said with a nod. “My life just gets weirder and weirder by the minute.”
In the grand scheme of things, a ghost cat eyeing my dinner was not the weirdest thing that had happened to me recently. Then again, I thought, if I was supposed to be a necromancer, maybe ghosts just showing up in my kitchen was a thing that was going to happen. That was possible. Here's hoping they all looked like this cat.
It decided that it didn't want my dinner and flopped over on the counter between the piece of dividing paper from the cheese and the knife that I had used to spread the mayo on the bread. Its tail flicked, and it stretched out, offering me a surprisingly plump belly to touch. I wondered if I could. I reached out, and my fingers met fur, soft and full but a little cold to the touch.
It
purred, and I felt a little better for it.
“Well, kitty,” I said, plucking up my sandwich. “I'm gonna go read. Do you wanna join me?”
It eyed me for a moment. I shrugged, deciding that if it wanted to follow me, it would. I kinda liked the idea of having a ghost cat friend.
When I got back to my grandmother's room, it was already there.
“I guess that's a yes. You gonna guard me as I get better? Because I'm down for that.”
I plopped down, and it curled up on the pillow next to me, closing its eyes and stretching out its toes. I watched the ghost for a moment. Okay, right that moment, I wasn't positive that it was a ghost, but I was pretty sure, at least ninety-eight percent. The colors weren't quite right. I mean, he, and I were pretty sure he was a he, had the gray, white, and black colors of a tabby. The colors, however, were muted, as if the intensity had been turned down.
House Of Vampires 2 (The Lorena Quinn Trilogy) Page 5
