Visions of the Witch - [Whispers 04]

by Tara West

  In her phone sex voice, Lucy informed me, “You have reached your destination.”

  My heart pounded in my ears. Moment of truth. What was I getting myself into?

  Chapter Two

  I turned Lucy off as I came to a stop in a small clearing. The screen went black and plunged the car into darkness. A champagne SUV—color me corrected, SUVs did exist on this side of The Pond—of indecipherable make waited for me, parking lights on. A white-haired man leaned against the back bumper, illuminated by the golden glow of his lights. As I exited my vehicle, he approached to shake my hand, long coat swishing. His smile was genuine below a fuzzy mustache, the hair at his temples light gray in deep contrast to his chestnut hair.

  “Miss Avari, so nice to meet you,” he said kindly in an impeccable English accent. “I have spoken at length with your father about you. I’m Edward Nice.” He pronounced his last name like the Paris vacation hot spot, niece, not like the adjective.

  I nodded and glanced around, gesturing to the dark forest. “I’m not about to be kidnapped and sent to a military lab for testing, am I? I don’t do well in small spaces.”

  Edward’s laugh was hearty as he clapped a hand to my shoulder. The smile that accompanied the sound made him intensely handsome—for a man who was old enough to have been my grandfather. “Heavens no, my dear! Here, your unusual talents could well come in handy. If you would be so good as to follow me?”

  We crunched across a bed of fallen leaves and into the trees, accompanied by the symphony of the night. The insects droned in a ceaseless wave of noise, broken only by our footsteps on the ground. I caught the eye of a fox, sliding silently through the underbrush to my right, and his tongue flicked out at me as he licked his snout. I had damn near perfect night vision, which had been a big plus when I played nighttime “Capture the Flag” back home. It got boring in small town America. My hometown was seventy-five miles from the nearest city and was nothing but woods and river—with a population of less than a thousand people. You learned to make your own fun early in a place like that.

  “So, from what I understand, you’ve more powers than you know what to do with. A Jack-of-all-trades, eh? Or Jane, rather.” His smile was infectious, but his stare too intense, too seeing.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and averted my gaze. “You could say that.”

  “Levitation, including of your own person, if I understand correctly.” He paused, waiting.

  I didn’t really want to talk about my powers with a strange man I’d only just met. Back home, I’d guarded my secrets with everything I had. It wasn’t bad enough that I had parents who could be found in the nude at a local park on Halloween night, but to be some kind of freak of nature? Talking about my “gifts” just didn’t come easily.

  Could I trust Edward?

  Maybe. It sure would feel nice to get it off my chest, anyway.

  I nodded, blowing out a breath. It was so cold that it was visible in the air. I answered cautiously. “I can use an object of some kind to levitate myself, like a broom or a carpet, but I can’t fly.”

  “Ah, a modern day witch!” We both chuckled; not the first time I’d heard that little joke. It tickled my parents to death. Edward continued. “So, night vision, super-strength, telekinesis, some psychic abilities, am I right?”

  “I can speak to spirits if they come to me first, but I can’t summon them. I’ve never had the training. And I can hold objects and,” I searched for the word I wanted, “just, know things about them.”

  “Psychometry,” Edward informed me. “Quite a wondrous thing, that. What else?”

  I certainly didn’t want to talk about my most embarrassing power, so I just said, “That’s it.”

  “You’re a very lucky girl,” he told me, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  I breathed a little easier—Edward obviously didn’t already know. Score one to my dad for keeping some things to himself.

  It came out when I hit puberty. I remember it was cloudy and cold outside, or as cold as it gets in southern Mississippi. Our school had been about forty years old, with a heating system to match. I’d worn old, wool gloves to school and had been chilled enough to sit through three class periods with them on. At lunch, surrounded by bodies and warmth, I shed my sweatshirt and gloves to pick at the vile chicken-based product that passed as protein and the crunchy mac-and-cheese on my plate, only half-listening to my friends.

  We were talking about kissing, oddly enough. At that age, everything was interesting if you hadn’t done it. Aaron Stockholm, one of my best friends, had his back to me, gesticulating wildly to a classmate across the room, when I reached over and grabbed his forearm to get his attention.

  I watched in shock as the touch of my hand gave my thirteen-year-old classmate his first orgasm.

  A month later, I was being homeschooled. No big deal, with both Dane and Theresa being literature and biology professors, respectively, at the local community college. Sprinkle on top of that my tendencies toward the anti-social, and I couldn’t have been happier. The revelations of my adolescent years shaped my entire outlook on growing up and unfortunately made a skeptic of me. Until I learned to control my powers, I wore black leather gloves year round.

  The boys in town used to think it was funny to call me Michael Jackson, despite the little discrepancy that dear ole Michael only wore one glove. You wouldn’t want to know what they called me when his whole child abuse scandal came out.

  I shrugged. “To be honest, I’ve been discovering powers constantly. At least every couple of years, something else surprises me.”

  “Interesting,” Edward mused, his expression thoughtful.

  We crunched along in silence. Edward walked the black forest, lit only by the pale glow of the moon, with the familiarity of a man who had done it thousands of times. The air we displaced was brisk and smelled of dead leaves and autumn.

  “Dane told me he and Theresa found you? As a baby, he said. How magnificent!” Edward smiled, his bushy mustache twitching. “I would say that was quite a shock for them.”

  Truth was, it hadn’t fazed my parents one bit. They live their own odd lifestyle, believing in fate and the never ending web of destiny. Finding an infant in the woods behind their house was life mundane to a pair of practicing witches. Worshippers of the misunderstood religion of Wicca, my parents danced naked beneath the swollen moon each month, burning incense and tossing seasonal herbs into the fire pit with yells of exaltation. Very little made them stop and do a double-take.

  “No, not a shock exactly,” I replied thoughtfully, picking at a lump of dryer lint inside the pocket of my hoodie. I wondered if the path we were on would ever end.

  “A gift.” Edward nodded sagely.

  “Edward,” I started, hoping he wouldn’t laugh at me. “Am I going to meet others like me?”

  His kindly face turned to me with a knowing half-smile. “You will, Vale. Others with powers just like yours.”

  Others like me. My heart sped in my chest. I wouldn’t be alone here, like I had been back home.

  The trees broke, and I stopped abruptly with a gasp.

  Rising in a circular clearing before me was the most beautiful structure I’d ever seen. Like some medieval castle, it loomed in the night. One central tower of dark brown wood thick with distorted glass windows rose as though it had grown from the sloping roof. The body of the building was comprised of large gray stones, pieced together around visible support beams the same shade of brown as the tower. Eight large columns paced down the front of the building, each a swirl of muted green and cream.

  “Magnificent, isn’t she?” Edward said fondly, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. “Those columns are hollow Connemara green marble from near Galway, Ireland. They’re only about forty years old. They replaced the original wooden columns when the structure was compromised. The stone is mainly all original, dating as far as we can tell from around two hundred years BCE, but the wooden tow
er and supports have been replaced several times over the centuries.”

  BCE—Before Common Era. Politically correct way of saying BC. Not many people utilized it, but it made me feel right at home.

  One lone spotlight was trained on a far corner, alternately illuminating and shading the structure. It was at least three stories high, not counting the tower, and as big around as a pro football field. “What is this place?”

  Tucking my hand into the crook of his arm, Edward led me toward a door hidden in the shadowy walkway behind the columns. “This, my dear, is a very rare temple to the Goddess.” He turned to face me, his blue eyes twinkling. “Each night you’ll come to the clearing where we parked at ten p.m. and leave your car. Follow the path we just walked here to the temple, where the evening shift guard will meet you at the door, pass off the keys, and then drive your car back to ‘headquarters’. When morning shift arrives at four a.m., you will take that individual’s car to headquarters, where yours will be awaiting you.”

  “But what do we do here?” I ventured. There was just so much…vagueness. “And why can’t we just leave our car here during our shift?”

  “The land where we park isn’t our land,” Edward responded, but he didn’t elaborate, nor did he acknowledge my first question. He fumbled through several pockets of his coat before locating a small, silver ring. “This ring must be worn when you are at the temple or on the grounds. We are heavily protected against intruders. It will allow you to pass through the wards unharmed.”

  Sliding the little piece of metal on my middle finger, I asked, “Wards?”

  “Surely you know about magick?”

  If I could levitate small children and fly on a broomstick through the night sky, I could certainly believe in magick. My parents did. All I could manage was, “Huh.”

  It took three keys to open the giant oak door. What a process. I shifted from foot to foot behind Edward, alternately raising my eyebrow and trailing my fingers over the chilled marble of the column beside me.

  The door finally opened on surprisingly quiet hinges. I followed Edward into the dim, cool interior. As he closed the door behind us, the atmospheric sounds of the night were silenced. We stood in a large chamber lit only by the flickering of a single torch directly to the right of the entrance. The ceilings soared maybe forty feet, disappearing into darkness where I assumed the tower loomed above us.

  I felt a presence to my right and whirled in time to see a large man with long, blond hair conjure fire with his hands. He tossed it lazily to the walls, where dormant torches lit one after the other until the entire room became visible.

  Startled, I couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at him. Where the heck did he come from, and holy hell, did he really just toss fireballs from his fingertips?

  “Edward. Good to see you,” Flame-man said in a brisk voice before training his pale gray eyes on me. His pupils were so large and dark they made his irises seem white in comparison. The corners of his mouth turned down. I could taste the disdain. “I assume this is the new girl?”

  “Yes, Jordan, this is Vale Avari,” Edward introduced me, patting my back gently. “Vale, this is Jordan Brinkman. He works the shift before yours.”

  I didn’t like the way Jordan was eyeing me, like a bug to be crushed. “Vale. Nice to meet you.” His condescending tone belied his words.

  I stared at the big hand he offered. Then—ignoring him—I turned back to Edward. I gestured with my head. “Who are they?”

  Edward smiled fondly up at the three immense statues in the middle of the chamber, illuminated merrily in the firelight. Seated upon three massive thrones were three equally impressive females. The central figure rose close to the ceiling, while the other two flanking her were quite a bit shorter. They were so immense I almost couldn’t believe I was seeing them.

  “In the middle is the Celtic Goddess Cerridwen,” Edward said with a hint of pride. “To the right, you have the Egyptian Goddess Bast, and to the left, the Norse Goddess Freya. Three very important personifications of the Goddess, each in their own way. They’re not the original statues, of course. Time has a way of bringing destruction. These three are only about two hundred years old.”

  Only? Geesh.

  Edward stepped aside with Jordan, giving me a moment to reflect. Theresa and Dane worshipped a god and goddess, yet I’d never studied their beliefs nor had I composed any of my own. I was twenty-four years old and nowhere near understanding the bigger picture or believing in an all-powerful being that controlled my existence. If there was such a thing.

  I wandered over to the statues for a better look.

  I traced my fingers over the deep carving of “Bast” at the feet of the figure on the left, each letter bigger than my hand. The throne upon which she sat was a rough block of stone with a squared back; what parts of it could be seen were covered in brightly colored hieroglyphs. The Goddess sat demurely, bare feet planted on the floor and her knees lightly touching, long legs flanked by a pair of regal, golden cats with shiny eyes of emerald. One hand rested in her lap and the other was firmly anchored to the base of an upright Ankh on the opposite leg. Her face was a working mixture of predator and mother with flawless features, feline in shape, and skin the color of mocha. The Goddess’ eyes were yellow and slit like a cat’s. She wore an ivory tunic over a tiny waist and curvy body, topped by generous cleavage and bare shoulders. Her headdress was an elaborate carving very close to the color of her skin, tiny braids falling in a halo around her shoulders. Two splashes of bright green graced her in the shape of a headband and a costume necklace. Rising from above the headband were two dainty cat ears, perked like Addie’s when she listened.

  “That woman has cat ears,” I said to no one in particular. “Why does she have ears like a cat?”

  Before I had a chance to move on to the next statue, Edward was beside me. I jumped, unaware he’d come so close. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled with years of laugh lines. I would bet he was a cool grandpa.

  “This is where I leave you, Vale,” he told me, patting my shoulder. “Jordan will take care of you. He’s staying overnight to get you settled in.”

  “Well, that was awful kind of him,” I answered, sweetly mocking as I batted my thick, black eyelashes in the sour man’s direction.

  Jordan frowned at me, crossing overly-muscular arms across his large pectoral muscles. I could practically hear his plain black T-shirt screaming in agony.

  We followed Edward back to the front door. I would have rather he stayed with me than the burly guy with fire fingers. I still really had no clue what the hell I was doing there, and I had a feeling Jordan wasn’t going to be much help.

  “Behave yourself and listen to what he has to say,” Edward warned, wagging his finger. He paused, standing in the open doorway, and his face went serious. “For the most part, the temple’s location is unknown. It’s had its fair share of issues and…enemies over the years. If anything happens, call headquarters.” He dropped the deep tone and smiled. “Of course, this is quite possibly the safest place to be in Quicksilver, as you can very well see.” He chuckled, gesturing to the fortifications on the door.

  For as large and bulky as the door was, it made not a sound when it closed behind him. Jordan stepped up to it, methodically locking each of the five locks. There were three deadbolts with three different keys, a sliding bar, and a hook and eye; the last two of which must have been undone when Edward and I arrived.

  “When you’ve entered the temple for the night, you lock each one,” Jordan grunted as he worked. His back was to me, his blonde hair shaggy and loose around his thick neck. When he turned, he latched cold, gray eyes to mine. “It’s imperative that you do this.”

  I stifled a laugh by pretending to cough. This guy was as serious as a heart attack, with a complete lack of emotion to match. “Just why is that?”

  His eyebrow cocked defiantly. He clicked his key ring to the belt loop of his black jeans. “We just do. It’s policy. How long have you been in
Quicksilver?”

  “A week.” I reached a hand up to touch Bast’s toe. It was the size of my palm. “Are you from here?”

  He ignored my attempt to close the caustic space between us. “Are you aware that between the hours of midnight and three, you must remain inside with curtains closed and doors locked?”

  Bast’s toe felt cool to the touch. I didn’t bother looking at him when I replied, “No, that’s news to me. Is it like some kind of curfew?” I’d spent the last week sleeping, watching TV, and making evening grocery runs. Not a soul had mentioned a curfew. I would have expected my dad to say something, at least.

  “Yes, a curfew,” Jordan said shortly, abruptly turning and heading away from me.

  I left the coolness of stone to follow him, tripping over my Nikes in the rush. Super powers be damned, I could sometimes be a klutz, especially in tennis shoes which made no sense to me. I opened my mouth to question the curfew, but he hurried on.

  “There is one set of keys to the temple used by the guards,” Jordan said over his shoulder. His footsteps echoed off the tall ceilings as he led me behind the statues to the back wall. “We pass it on to each other at shift change. Every door in the temple has a key. You may go anywhere in the temple except this room.” He came to a stop before a short, squat door the color of dried blood. “This room is off limits. It cannot be opened by anyone but Edward.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “You evade a lot of questions,” I snapped back, already sick of him. I mean seriously, I hadn’t asked that many questions, and if I had, who could blame me? I was standing in a weird temple with a giant statue of a woman with cat ears where a man had lit ten torches without so much as a match. And yet, nobody had explained what the hell I was doing here. I was due some questions.