Power Surge (The Crawford Witch Chronicles Book 2)

by S. L. Perrine

  Trees in the whole town had begun to flourish with spring time weather. The end of April showers had given nature one last gulp of revival. Green leaves were only broken up by trees holding blossoms in pale pink and white. The lawns showed off their beds of roses and plantain lilies. Property that sat behind the scenes had never appeared withered at all. The trees remained lush, green, and full all winter long.

  “Chester’s not home. He won’t be for a few hours.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he went to Dublin again.”

  Dublin. My parents' tomb. Since the solstice, our only concern was getting my parents back from their prison. Chester worked on it even harder than I had, since I had also been dealing with my power issues. Chester, like his father and grandfather before him, was the one assigned to protect the Crawford Priestess. The families who were enveloped into a coven together were not selected at random. Throughout time, each member of the same five families had a single witch or shifter enter into a coven of their generation. Each coven consisted of at least three witches and one shifter, or protector. Our coven had three witches and two shifters. A member of the Crain family had always been assigned as the protector of the Crawford high priestess, which also meant that Chad was assigned as my protector. Who did the assigning was another one of those questions that remained unanswered. I hoped to learn more about it. When that would be, I had no clue.

  Of course, there is always a possibility that when you work closely with someone for so long, attachments are formed. In some instances, the lines between protector and protected are blurred. Chester, at one point, had thought he was in love with my mother, Gwendolyn Crawford. After she and my father were married in secret, Chester had agreed with my father to leave her in hiding and with Silas’s protection. If Chester had been with them, they would have been detected anyway. I knew that to be the case, even if Chester didn’t see it that way. He blamed himself and his jealousy for my mother’s fate.

  He confessed to me that he only knew the difference between real love and what he had felt for my mother when he fell in love with his wife, when Chadwick was born, and then when he lost Lena. His duty to protect his charge was driving him to get both of my parents back. Chester had been privy to their true location since the day Ophelia had discovered the attack at the small cabin house in Dublin, Ohio. That’s probably why the rest of them had settled down a mere hour and a half drive away in Pleasant Ridge, Cincinnati.

  I don’t know if I would have had the ability to keep that information to myself for all that time. He knew I would grow into my powers, and the combination of the gift from both of my parents should be able to release them, but we just couldn’t figure out the how. Yet.

  “He and Ophelia have gathered the rest of Silas’s coven at the cabin. They’re going to try to communicate again.”

  I looked at our hands, where they swayed clasped together as we walked through the trees around the house. This would make the fifth attempt at contact within a month. They had been hoping I would try with them, but on the first attempt, I almost made the house fall to the ground with everyone inside of it. I let go of Chad’s hand, pressing both of mine firmly on a tree before I spoke.

  “This is why I should be in my room trying to figure out this power thing.” I kicked my foot against the stump and then raised my hands from the tree, combing them through my hair. I stopped short at the sound of a loud crack in the tree I had been holding.

  “That,” he said, pointing to the large oak with a foot-wide cut sliced through it from root to branches. “That is why you need to be outside and not holed up in your room. You need to be able to let loose.”

  “Chad, I can’t-”

  “Yes, you can! You have to see what is in there, so you can get a measurable estimate of what you're using.”

  “What do you want me to do? Take down a tree?”

  “If that’s what it takes. Nobody can see you here.” He sighed hard and turned from me. “Plus, we need to learn some repair spells if you’re going to knock down the school.” He started laughing at me, and no doubt, the memory of our teacher's face when the brick building started to crack from the floor up to the bottom of the window. They were still trying to figure out how to repair it and how it happened without so much as a shift in the building's foundation.

  “Well, maybe we should figure out how to keep creeps at school from making comments about our sex life.”

  “Don’t call your sister a creep. That’s not nice.”

  “Sure, it was.”

  Michelle hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. I was afraid, but only because I didn’t know what I would do unconsciously. I definitely didn’t want to hurt Chad, but before I could voice my concerns for letting go, I could feel the energy within me surging. It made every nerve ending, from my central nervous system to every point of contact on my skin, start to hum just at the idea of wrapping our bodies together.

  My mind went blank and before it came back, Chad was in front of me. So close we could share the same breath. I thought his hands were in his pockets, but then I could feel one on the back of my neck, and then on my hip. His lips tasted like honey and the smell of him swam around me, blocking all of my other senses. The pressure on my shoulders lifted and the strain in my neck and back had faded to nothing. I could feel only him; see only him.

  I felt like we were dancing on nothing, or clouds, but there was definitely no ground beneath us. I could not think or process my original fears and need for keeping our distance from each other. I couldn’t be separated from him. I couldn’t let go, but something was telling me I should. Instead, my hands thrusted to the back of his head. My fingers tangled in his hair. He hadn’t cut it in some time, and it was long enough for me to get lost in.

  Thunder boomed overhead and shook the ground under our feet. I jumped back from Chad and turned away.

  “What… what’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t you hear that?”

  “E, you can’t blame every loud noise on yourself. You have no way of knowing if it’s you or not.”

  “I get that, but I can’t take that chance…not with you.”

  “What…why?”

  “I can’t hurt you…it would kill me if I hurt you, Chad. Don’t you get it?” I was getting frustrated.

  “Did you feel like you were hurting me?” he snapped back.

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I couldn’t argue my point any further. He bound up to me and pulled me back into his arms. The kiss was hard and needy. Thunder boomed off in the distance and my pulse quickened. I couldn’t help thinking it was me making all the noise, but while Chad’s hands were entangled in my hair, I couldn’t care less. The release I felt was overwhelming, and oh so welcomed. The heavy weight I had been feeling across my shoulders and back melted away with just that one kiss.

  Chad's hands made their way down my back and pulled me closer to him. I sunk into his arms and let him support my weight. Another large boom sounded; a crack close by that made the ground tremble. Still he held me close, our bodies as close as they could get in the open. My hands pulled at his back, his hair, and even up to caress the sides of his face. The earth shook and I could feel the small pebbles rolling around the ground at our feet. I chose to ignore them as they tapped the sides of my shoes.

  Chad slowly pulled away from me, and we watched as the small stones that had been moving around in circles at our feet were rising and surrounding us like they held no gravitational pull to the earth. The pebbles moved around us clockwise, slowly, like they were dancing with us. They moved upward, stopping once they reached our height. I looked at Chad, smiling, and pinched my fingers around one of the small rocks. As I plucked it from the air, I felt the resistance in it. Once it came free, the rest of them dropped to the ground.

  “Well, look at that. You didn’t hurt me at all…now the yard, I’m not so sure.” He turned from me to examine the property.

  I looked arou
nd and saw what he meant. Trees that had been completely dead and ready to be cut down for firewood stood straight, full of lush green leaves and cherry blossoms in full bloom. The stumps of the trees Chester had already cut down had grown and had the new buds growing on the ends of its branches, eager to sprout more.

  The path from the driveway to the house, which had been run down by years of foot traffic, was plush green grass. The rose bushes in front of the porch, which I never knew existed in that spot, had grown and bloomed full of white, pink, and yellow roses.

  “Wow,” was all I could find my voice to say.

  “See, you don’t take life. You give it.” He gazed at me. His eyes were filled with more emotion than he’d ever shown for anyone, save for his mother’s memory.

  Chapter Two

  Chad had convinced me that I needed to visit with my biological grandfather, Alistair Crawford. The long drive to the Crawford Farmhouse wasn’t as long as the ride to Dublin, but it was just as unnerving for me.

  We had been to the little cabin in the woods about three times since the ritual. Every time, I sat in the passenger seat, twiddling my fingers and worried that my parents would be watching me be a failure. They had given me the family power in hopes I would be able to get them back, but all I had done was hide in corners, safeguarding my hands from everyone else in the small house.

  On the ride to see Alistair, I realized the fear was of something else entirely. What if, as head of the family, he didn’t think I deserved my powers? What if he was mad because I have the Sigmis family powers too? The powers of a known black magic family. My biological father’s family powers. The questions kept twirling in my head, even though Chad had tried at least a dozen times to help me think about something else, including talking about whether or not we would stay at Michelle’s party for the entire evening. We knew Clara would be going, as she and Michelle had been best friends since kindergarten, even if it was just her way of getting close to my family in an effort to keep a watchful eye on me.

  During the Christmas holiday, and after a month of not seeing her, Clara stopped by the house to give Michelle a gift she had bought for her some months prior. I guess that’s when she realized my sister really was a good friend to her. She had stopped hanging out with her for a while preceding the blood ritual, so we could have time to prepare. We actually found out we didn’t dislike each other as much as we originally thought. She and Michelle had even been making attempts to include me in trips to the mall and movies, once their friendship resumed.

  Nothing Chad brought up was enough to pull me away from my doom and gloom thoughts. How could I go visit the man who’d been longing to have his oldest daughter back? When he found out she and my father had been alive all this time, the hatred he felt for his youngest daughter exploded. Learning of Sabina’s part in killing her own mother, well, he vowed to make her pay, but I didn’t think he’d be able to. After all, she was still his child.

  The yard that surrounded the Crawford Farm was blooming with new growth and felt alive. There was a buzzing in the yard that I hadn’t felt before when visiting. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a small bug with very large wings as it zipped by me to hide in an azalea bush. The flowers had been in bloom for some time, and most of them had started to wilt. There was a rustling and what looked like a glow of silvery looking dust. Wilting blooms had perked back up, and the bumblebees gave the bush their seal of approval as three landed on the blooms in unison.

  “Did you see that?” Chad started to mouth something, but was cut off as Hank, the family beagle, bounded onto the porch with a hound’s howl.

  “Heya Hank.” I bent down and rubbed the animal behind his ears. “Can you bring me to grandfather?”

  Hank wiggled his tail, turned himself around, and headed back inside the house. The air was cool as we entered the front door, only to be led out the back of the house. I half-expected the dog to lead us to the second floor of the old house and right into Alistair’s bedroom. He had been so sick prior to the holidays that he was spending every day tucked away in his room, no doubt snuggled up in the scent of his belated wife.

  “Ah, I have company.” The older man sat in his place at the enormous square table on the back patio, tucked in between the expanse of the house. Hank wandered to the man’s side and plopped down on a large pillow, which I could tell was new and being broken in. Alistair’s salt and pepper hair was all I could see of him, as he had his head down, admiring something he held in his hand.

  “Hello, grandfather. How are you feeling?”

  He inclined his head to look at Chad and I as we descended the stairs from the back of the house.

  “Ah, well…I seem to still own a beating ticker.” He laughed, but stopped quickly and held out his fisted hand, the item he was admiring enclosed within.

  “What’s this?” I asked, looking down at his hand. He stood and pushed his outstretched fist to me, compelling me to move in closer across the large table to retrieve what he held.

  “I knew there was a reason I grabbed this out of your grandmother’s jewelry box today,” he said, placing a small ring in my hand. “It had been a gift from her mother, and should have been passed to your mother when she married, but…” His eyes became droopy and he sat down, resting outward glances on his folded hands across his protruding mid-section.

  The ring held a smoothed amethyst stone and was the most brilliant shade of purple. Laid in a setting on a white gold band, a rose in white was etched onto it, wrapping delicately around the stone.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “It’s rightfully yours. I see no reason to wait for you to marry. I may not get more opportunities to see you, and your generation deems to wait so long to tie themselves to someone.” He winked at Chad.

  “Well, I will treasure it.” I played with it between my fingers.

  “Oh, you better.” He leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two legs from the ground as if by means to recline. “So, how are you doing? Any more nonsense from your aunt?”

  “No, we haven’t heard from her in months. Not since the ritual. Although, it seemed like she was more interested in getting her hands on the family book than me.”

  “Well, that’s not a surprise. That book holds our families’ deepest, darkest secrets, and every spell known to man. She is probably in search of a spell to…”

  His eyes wandered again, and I could feel a sense of sadness overtake him. I didn’t realize I had opened myself up to anything other than my own senses, but the feeling I got from him was strong; overwhelming even. It seemed the powers inside of me were still growing.

  “Grandfather? Are you okay?” I played with the ring in my hands but didn’t put it on.

  “To think a child would be able to do that to their own mother. Not to mention what she’s done to my poor Gwen.” He paused for a moment to collect himself; sat up a little straighter in his chair. “No, if Sabina knows what’s good for her, she’ll never bother another Crawford for as long as she lives.” I had a momentary flash of rage and spite. I felt like I wanted to get up and shove my fists into grandfather’s chest, and then Chad.

  “Are you okay, E?” Chad’s hand reached out to touch me. His closeness snuffed out the rage within me and I felt calm again. I had almost forgotten his born abilities.

  “I don’t know what’s come over me.” My inner emotions switched to concern as Chad grabbed my hand and Alistair stared at me with questioning eyes. “Sorry, my powers are a bit much to handle.”

  “Well, it’s no wonder…I assume you took on Silas’s as well.”

  “Yes. I was hoping I could find a way to break Sabina’s curse and bring him and my mom back.”

  “Hmm...” Alistair looked down at Hank as the beagle lifted his head to smell the air. As if he decided it was nothing, he laid his head back on the pillow and resumed his afternoon nap.

  Alistair thought on it for what seemed like an eternity. My Uncle Cinnabar came outside to say hi a
nd retreated back into the house for a snack of liverwurst and mustard. I retched at the thought of the vile taste in my mouth and realized moments later I could really taste it.

  “Okay, this is new.” I gagged a little, which granted me more worried looks and feelings.

  I told Chad and Alistair what was going on and explained to my grandfather about the problem I was having with controlling my powers. I didn’t mention the many structural issues that had arisen, but I did stress that I’d had damaging effects when it was not intended.

  “Well, it seems to me your high-born powers are doubled that of an ordinary high-born. Your empathic powers have magnified, as evident by your tasting what Cinnabar is eating inside the house. Had you only one set of powers, you may have smelt it faintly, or felt his hunger for it deep down inside you. This…this is exceptional.” He grinned with pride. I felt a pang of remorse for thinking they had been nothing more than aggravation.

  “Exceptional, grandfather? No, this is nuts. I was right to lock myself in my room.” I rose from the chair I had settled in and headed for the door to leave.

  “Elyse Margaret Crawford!” I stopped at the use of my full name, which nobody but my adoptive parents had known, and spun on my heel to look my grandfather in the eye. He had moved around the table so quickly, I thought he must have used magic, and I was suddenly standing directly in front of him.

  “Your powers are a gift from your parents, and yes…you may have more than the average witch, but you can learn to control them, just as others have. No one is born with the ability to control one’s powers from the very beginning. You need training and structure. Not to lock yourself away in a hole…do you hear me, child?” His voice was stern. Much more than I had ever heard from him before. Family pride ran deep in him, even though he was Crawford by marriage. He revered the Crawford name and its legacy my grandmother, Isabella, had taught him about. It was her blood, after all, that gave me my worth.