Calling Quarters (Beacon Grove Book 1)

by Jen Stevens

  “It's almost time to begin,” Callista shrieked excitedly at Blaire. She waved her hands and walked toward the gazebo, encouraging us to follow.

  “Begin what?” I whispered quietly while we hurried behind Callista.

  “Our Mabon opening ritual," Blaire threw over her shoulder.

  I didn't know what a ritual for a group of people who openly identified as witches entailed. Aunt Ash had her own small rites and rituals she practiced around the house on certain holidays, but I mostly ignored them.

  I couldn't even remember if there was one that she'd practice specifically around this time of year, and that realization had my mood taking a dive as we weaved through the crowd. Maybe she held on close to her family's traditions despite being forced away from them by me. Did she suffer from loneliness without her chosen community surrounding her, instead stuck with some moody teenager she was burdened with?

  Why didn't I ever bother paying more attention to her?

  Those were the guilty thoughts that carried me to the open field I just left Julia and her friends in. My eyes searched the growing crowd for Remy's haunted glare and fell short. I wasn't sure why I'd expected him to be here, knowing how isolated the Quarters preferred to be from everyone else, though I had spotted them sitting together in town earlier.

  They were dangerous. I knew that. And they were especially dangerous to me if my suspicions were correct and I was a Counter. But there was something inside of them that called to me. Something completely impossible to ignore—a feeling deep in my bones.

  It could have been the connection we shared. That abstract thing I might have possessed inside of me that posed a threat to their very being. Whatever it was, it had me ignoring every warning I’d received from the people of this town—including the one in the pit of my stomach—and drew me closer to them. It had me searching crowds for their ethereal faces and hoping they were doing the same for me.

  Or at least hoping Remy was.

  But he wasn’t. None of them were. They probably weren’t even bothering with the silly festival, instead focusing on whatever it was Quarters spent their time doing. I still wasn’t sure. The only thing anyone told me about them is that they were off-limits, and they protected Watchtower from harm.

  What did that entail? I had no idea.

  Callista stopped in the back of a gathered crowd where a larger bonfire pit sat before us with flames that reached so high, I swore they licked the sky. She and Blaire joined hands as a man I hadn’t seen before began talking from the opposite side of the fire on a small wooden platform. Others joined us from behind, but everyone stayed quiet. Whoever this man was, I could tell they valued and respected him.

  “I’ll keep this short, so we can all get back to our ales and celebration.” He smiled at his audience teasingly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Mabon is a very special time for us. We get to reflect on the season’s blessings and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Of your labor. None of it would be possible without the hard work and sweat that was poured into this season by the wonderful people of this town and coven. So, without further ado, let's begin our prayer for blessings of love and abundance.”

  Friends and neighbors joined hands and bowed their heads as the more rumble of their collective voices repeated the same prayer as the man on the platform. I took in the scene before me, overcome by their sense of harmony and togetherness. The comforting feeling I got when I first drove down the winding road leading into Beacon Grove had returned, filling my heart with a sense that I could only describe as being home. I never imagined witches could be so peaceful and connected with one another.

  The praying went on for a few more minutes before I realized the sky darkened overhead as gray clouds chased away the sun rays and snuffed them out. I looked over at Blaire and Callista, who had both stopped their chanting and stared ahead at the chaos that was forming above us in complete terror.

  “Something is wrong,” Callista muttered quietly.

  She tugged at Blaire's wrist and waved her hand at me to follow. No one seemed to notice when we headed toward an alley between the pharmacy and art gallery, taking a quick right when we made it behind the buildings. Once again, the streets I'd grown familiar with in the past few weeks now looked completely foreign to me, though Blaire and Callista had no issues finding their way.

  The rest of the people at the festival had finally caught on and stopped talking. In the distance, I could hear chaos starting to ensue as fear took over.

  “She warned us,” Blaire breathed out just as the hotel came into view. I could've sworn we were still too near to town to see it.

  Tabitha's head popped out of the office entrance. She looked completely calm, her body relaxed as she watched the three of us sprint toward her.

  “We have to stop them,” she called out to Callista, who only nodded her response.

  Once we reached the porch, she didn't bother waiting for Tabitha to lead her through the door. She brushed past her mother in a huff with me and Blaire on her heels. A loud bang echoed through the streets and more screaming followed behind it.

  Tabitha slammed the door shut and locked it, ushering us into her living room. I jumped at the noise as my breath caught in my throat.

  This was too much. The chanting, the spells, the magic. None of this seemed real. The witchcraft Aunt Asher practiced was always just a silly hobby I thought she'd wasted her time on. I never believed it to be real.

  But it was.

  It was too real.

  This was what she was trying to prepare me for, and I was too dense to listen.

  “What happened, Grammy? Where are the Quarters?” Blaire's shaking voice gave me a strange sense of comfort. It let me know I wasn't alone in my downward spiral. At least she was a little panicked, too.

  Tabitha and Callista's calmness was unsettling.

  “They're trying, but The Movement is too strong.”

  “Why would The Movement want to do this?”

  “Hush, girl,” Tabitha spit.

  She turned her attention to her daughter, and they began to have a silent conversation. I watched their faces change as questions were asked and answered without words, until a final decision was made.

  It was bizarre and chilling to watch. There was clearly information they were keeping from Blaire and I, though I had no idea if that bothered me anymore. It seemed like the more I knew about this place, the farther I wanted to run.

  “Hold my hand,” Callista's soft voice whispered to her daughter, who took her outstretched hand without hesitation. “You too,” she said to me.

  Just as my fingers brushed hers, Tabitha swatted me away.

  “We don't know what kind of effects she'll have on this. It's best to keep her out of it.”

  “Worst case, she strengthens us. Come on, Mom. We need all the help we can get.”

  Tabitha huffed out her frustration and shook her head but when Callista grabbed my hand again, she allowed it. The moment our fingers touched, I felt a jolt of electricity course through my body. I recoiled, trying to pull my hand away, but Callista only held on tighter.

  “It's okay,” she assured. “That's a good sign.”

  The three of them started speaking out in a language that I recognized but couldn't place where I'd heard it before. Their eyes remained focused on the table we circled around, each of them staring into the dancing flame of the black candle that Tabitha had already lit before we got there.

  I couldn't focus on anything. It was like a part of me was somewhere else and my mind kept trying to take me there, but the words they were mumbling were grounding me back to my physical body. It was a feeling unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I was ripped in half, my feet stuck in two places at once and it only got stronger as the women around me chanted louder. I tried to ask them to stop, but my mouth wouldn't say the words.

  My vision finally flashed between Tabitha's living room and a view of the ocean, its waters angry and black with white caps spr
aying all around. Waves crashed against dark gray rocks in fury, and the longer I allowed myself to sink into the vision, the heavier my chest felt.

  My head was pounding. I wanted to scream, but nothing in my body was working. My arms and legs were no longer under my control, and I could feel my energy being drained from inside me, like someone had somehow tapped into the source and was sucking me dry. I was stuck in the prison my mind built with the chanting that was floating in the space around me.

  Then, just as fast as it began, everything stopped, and I was surrounded by blackness.

  Chapter 11

  Remy

  Beacon Grove was buzzing with excited anticipation as the final countdown to Mabon had officially begun. Out of towners were rolling in, taking up vacancy in Tabitha's hotel and any spare room that our residents rented out for the occasion. The town's square was filled with tents for every business and hobby we had and the parking lot to the city buildings was taken over by carnival rides. This was one of our most profitable times of year, and the coven often poured that money into the Quarters’ pockets as a thank you for making it all possible.

  I'd strolled into town to reprieve from my father's constant nagging. He and the other elders made their expectations of us for Mabon very clear. If we screwed this up, they were going to step in and take over as Quarters.

  Their constant pestering was only making us lose confidence even more and fed the insecurities we were already fighting to keep at bay. Rhyse, Lux, and Enzo were somewhere around here, waiting for me to join them so we could come up with a plan for the next twenty-four hours. We still haven't gotten access to the Book of Shadows and the library provided us with no new information.

  We were stuck.

  We needed a sudden shift in power to happen if we wanted this to be successful, though it seemed the gods weren't willing to budge. Our Counters needed to be found and eliminated if we were going to reach the next level of our gifts.

  Just as the thought crossed my mind, the new girl walked by with Blaire Granger at her side. They appeared to be inseparable since the moment she walked into town. I'd overheard Marta digging into Julia again just this morning about befriending her. I'm not sure why the old maid had such an interest in Storie, but it always made me more suspicious to hear her name mentioned between the two. Since she entered Beacon Grove, I realized I was losing trust in everyone around me.

  Our time alone only fed my confused, jumbled thoughts. While she appeared to have no intention of coming after me or the others, her dramatic reaction to my telling her I was a Quarter was peculiar. And the way my blood practically boiled anytime she was near didn't help the uncertainty and mystery that surrounded her.

  We were supposed to have been prepared to meet our Counters, yet I felt far too incompetent to take her on.

  I took three steps in her direction to follow them before Lux called my name from behind. Ignoring the pull I felt toward the strange girl, I turned and jogged over to the cafe table the three of them were sitting at.

  “Our best bet is to draw power from the spirit world,” Enzo was saying as I pulled out the chair beside him and fell into it. They all nodded in agreement, then looked at me expectantly.

  “What?”

  “You're going to have to open the realm to us,” Lux explained calmly.

  I knew this was coming. It was the only solution we'd been able to devise that didn't involve anyone else helping. The problem was, the spirit realm was next to impossible to master.

  The Wildes were the only Quarter family with access to the underworld and were notoriously bad at keeping records, so there wasn't much information regarding how to go about it. My own father had given up on the task years ago, and he was more desperate for the extra boost in power than anyone.

  For some reason, gaining access to the underworld hadn't ever been difficult for me. I often visited while on my post, using the energies from our ancestors to make up for any areas the others may have been lacking in—a problem that came up more often lately. It was the only reason we hadn't already lost our roles to our fathers.

  But opening the realm to the other Quarters wasn't going to be easy. I didn't have the training or abilities to keep them safe while they drew power from their ancestors yet, and allowing them in without proper protection could result in one of them getting stuck between worlds or dying.

  “We know what we're signing up for, Wildes. Just get us in,” Rhyse muttered quietly. I looked to Enzo and Lux for confirmation and they each nodded once.

  “Fine.”

  ---

  The clock struck six and the four of us settled into our individual altars—a designated spot built into our homes that kept us safe from interruptions and threats—as the coven began the ritual spell. I took our sacred family knife that was said to have been carved out by Hecate herself and passed down through Quarter families for generations to draw blood and offer it to the gods in exchange for their protection and guidance, then fell into a deep meditative state. The coven called onto the four quarters, and we opened ourselves up to them.

  The tourists usually didn't realize the ritual was happening. Too distracted with the sounds of the carnival and festivities, they never noticed the quiet spellcasting that came from members of Watchtower. Their excited presence also brought an additional buffer energy to the ceremony.

  Once I was sure it was safe, I opened the underworld to the others to draw the connection with our elder spirits and use them as a power source. When the shield was lifted into place, we allowed ourselves to reenter the physical realm with our minds still halfway connected to spirit. This was always an easier task for me. I tried to keep my nerves about them entering the spirit realm at bay. I didn't want the negative vibrations to affect them, though it was difficult to ignore the risks when I could feel the stronger energy buzzing off them now, even from miles away.

  The night started off smoother than usual, and each minute that passed without issue allowed me to relax a little more. I could hear the sounds of the Mabon festival through the window, though they were muffled by the ocean's soft chorus beside me.

  It wasn't until after about three hours, just before the sun set around nine o'clock, that I felt the shift. The waters below darkened, morphing from their usual aqua hue to completely black. I could hear distant chanting coming from the town's center, but the sounds of the waves were fighting it. The energy within the spirit realm frenzied and I could feel the others panic as they sensed the shift, too.

  Our shield was falling away with each passing second and our energy was depleting. Whatever magic they were practicing at the festival felt as if it was targeted at syphoning every ounce of power from us.

  Weakening us.

  Somehow, I'd gathered enough strength within me to shove the others out of the underworld and close off the opening before anyone got hurt.

  When I was sure everyone else was safe, I focused on the energies surrounding me, stopping when I recognized the presence of black magic. It was almost a tangible, living thing—impossible to ignore. Everyone in Watchtower knew better than to practice anything dark, especially when our shield was lifted and we were vulnerable. It was the coven’s most rigid and indisputable law.

  Yet, someone had clearly disrespected the bylaws to put us into harm's way.

  With our connection broken, I could no longer feel the magic coming from the other Quarters. It was just me, the raging ocean, and whatever magic that was set on draining me.

  I wanted to give up. My body felt as if someone had slashed it open and sucked all the blood out. Whatever this was, it was clearly stronger than anything I could handle.

  Just as my eyes began to close, I felt someone's presence beside me. I could no longer see the waters thrashing their anger against the rocks below, or the white candle that once flickered before me, fighting to stay upright against the wind that now whipped across my face. The stone floors beneath me felt cold and dry, though I was positive they were covered in blood.


  But the entity—whatever it was—stayed still by my side as the scene unfolded. I felt it shift, and then I became lighter. My energy was being restored and my powers were slowly being regifted to me.

  It was a few moments before I could open my eyes again, but I knew the storm was ending. Instead of succumbing, I would be able to fight the darkness that had tried taking me down. When I felt strong enough to sit up, I glanced to my right to see who had saved me but found the spot to be empty.

  I was alone.

  Chapter 12

  Remy

  Beacon Grove was a disaster. Festival debris circled around us in a painful reminder of how the evening unfolded. The elements had raged down here just as harshly as they had for us in our towers.

  Once we were sure the four of us were okay, our fathers summoned us to the town's community center to discuss the night's events. Only members of Watchtower were present, though it was the largest turnout I'd seen since our Quarter initiation ceremony.

  I have no idea where they corralled the tourists and carnival workers. The town looked completely abandoned, so I'm sure it was far enough out of ear shot for us to hold our meeting.

  We were sat down into folding metal chairs on the small auditorium stage beside Mayor Douglas and our High Priest, Silas Forbes. When we tried to decline, we were told it couldn't wait.

  Mayor Douglas slammed his gavel three times to silence the frenzied crowd before us. Nearly one hundred pairs of eyes turned our way, each one looking more frightened than the next.

  “We've called this emergency meeting to order to discuss the night's events,” the mayor called out to the crowd of people, his voice maintaining its usual official tone, although he looked just as ragged and worn as the rest of us.