“Looks like it’s for a dude.”
Red glared at him, setting the jewelry box down.
Vic put up his hands. “Or your mom was a tomboy. Valid style choice.”
“What’s in the book, you think?” She opened it to see a blank brittle page. She turned the next empty page like it could dissolve and then the next. Her care turned desperate as she thumbed through it. A chill spread up her digits. Her breath turned heavy, disappointment sitting on her lungs like dead weight. She sat down on the bed and hugged the unfilled book to her. She didn’t trust herself to look at him. She was still picking up the jagged pieces of dashed hope in her mind. “It’s all blank. Blank.”
“It’s all part of the mystery fun.” Cheerful ploy failing, Vic tried a more consoling tone, toeing the ground, head bowed. “Hey, these are still clues.”
Red inhaled the dust from the old leather. Hot tears pooled behind her eyes. “How many of these dead-end clues have we collected? I have a book, a necklace, some money—"
“Lots of money.”
“—and some mumbo jumbo I don’t understand from a dead pilgrim.”
“Don’t forget that diner in Oregon that came to you in a dream!” Vic pointed out.
“Neither of us have found it yet! It probably doesn’t even exist.” Red hugged the book tighter. She didn’t know why she had been so foolish. Of course this hadn’t led anywhere. Every step toward her real family ended up being a slide back.
“Hey, we don’t know anything for sure. You’ve been wanting to try and find your roots since we left the Midwest. Yeah, we got distracted in Los Angeles because of vampire politics, but we can do it now. I know you wanted this box to explain everything, but maybe it might explain something.” Vic pointed to the supplies she’d brought from the classroom. “Now, you must have had an idea or that’s just a girly craft project.”
Red nodded and eased her death grip on the blank journal. “Trudy taught me something today. Or at least it finally clicked. I did a lot of meditation before I did it for her, so it might take me a few tries now.”
Vic watched Red set up the scrying ritual.
“I want to find who owned this before. Where they are or at least where they lived.”
“That’s a bit of a complicated ask. Maybe you can narrow it down. I ain’t a mage, but I know you gotta ask for things specifically from the universe.”
“Fine. I want to know where the last owner lived.” She picked up the necklace and clutched it in her fist, tried to focus on that intention. It wasn’t a location or even a person she could picture, but she tried to make her desire as pure as possible. The pendulum curved around the map.
Worries sank into her mind. What if her mystery ancestor hadn’t lived in America? What if they still lived? Where were they now?
The pendulum jerked toward Oregon before swinging down toward Vegas before curling in a confused loop over the West like an undecided bird. She sighed and set down the necklace and pendulum, taking a deep breath through her nose.
“Why don’t you try the journal?” Vic asked softly.
Red picked it up and tried again to find whoever had possessed the journal before she got it. The pendulum twisted in her grasp before skittering across the map and off the desk. She cursed. “I can’t do it.”
“You can try again when you’re calmer,” Vic said. “Let’s go down to the Nostradamus. Hell, we can leave the casino and hit another place. Maybe see one of those weird clown shows they have everywhere.”
Red set the journal and the necklace inside the box, then piled the map and crystals on top of it. “Nah, I just… I’m just gonna go.”
She fled the room, not stopping when he called after her. The hotel doors blurred in her vision as she trotted to the elevator. The forced party of the Circe Casino vibe grated on her raw nerves as she weaved around staggering tourists with novelty cups. The latest vapid pop song blared from the speakers. Looking down, she didn’t notice Ezra until she clipped him with her elbow. Muttering an apology, she ducked passed him.
“Red, are you okay?” Ezra’s quiet, gentle tone felt out of place in the brash intensity of the casino floor. “It’s my break, but I can make you a drink. Get you some food.”
Head shaking, Red dodged him to scamper into a crowd of showgirls dressed like sexy ravens, hidden among their feathered bustles and headdresses. She filtered out of the flock by the disguised entrance to Pyramid Hall.
Feet slowing, she forced a jumbled deep breath as she stepped through the portal door. She tried to ignore the packed buffet in the far corner and the busy stream of customers weaving through the merchant carts, picking out chicken feet and bezoars. The banyan tree glowed in the center of the giant atrium. She tried to focus on that. It felt serene even to her chaotic mind.
“Keepin’ your nose clean, Red?” Ian Keliʻi strolled up on her left, tipping his black bowler hat to reveal a smile.
Red bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to tell the campus cop to stuff a donut in it. This wasn’t the day for her to mingle with authority. “Yeah, sure am, officer.”
“At ease, newbie. I’m not on duty.” Ian caught a glimpse of her face. “What happened? Is it Proctor?”
“No more like crushing personal disappointment.” Red shook her head and started walking toward the dormitories. “Not an emergency.”
She barely noticed the stairs turning into escalators, hoping that none of the alchemists caught on to the witch trying not to lose her shit beside them. The next kindly acquaintance was going to get their head chewed off, and then she’d feel like a jerk on top of everything else. She burst into the suite at the top of the stairs and shut herself behind the French doors to her cubby room. Well-trained, dry sobs exploded from her like racehorses out of the gate.
Flopped on her bed, Red finally stopped crying even as the sadness pressed down on her. Light peeked out under the door from the suite sitting room. She lifted her head, finally noticing how dark it had gotten in her room.
Hannah opened the door and peeked inside as she knocked. “Hey, I saw…”
Red wiped the itchy tear flakes off her flushing cheeks. She probably had raccoon eyes from the fallen mascara.
“Damn, are you okay?” Hannah came into the room and sat on the end of the bed. Head bowed, she fiddled with her hands. “Is this about what happened today in class? I’m sorry. I was a dick. Breanna used to tell me I popped off too much, and then I would tell her to stop banging my brother. I guess she was right.”
“It wasn’t you. I just had a lot of stupid hopes in something,” Red said, feeling numb after her crying jag. Sitting up, she sipped from a water bottle at her bedside. “I finally got a package I was waiting for. I thought it would tell me who I was. Instead, I got a necklace and a bunch of blank pages to go with my blank memories.”
“You thought you would learn more about your mom, huh? Make sense of what John Proctor said.”
“Yeah, I hoped so.” Red sniffed. She didn’t know what she had been expecting. A big arrow on the map pointing to her mom and a happy ending? She couldn’t do the scrying spell. It probably only worked with Quinn Investigations because of how strong her memories were, fueled by the fresh grief and other emotions that the place stirred up. She was supposed to come from a line of witches. Red bet she was the worst one of the lot.
Hannah bit her lip. An idea shone in her eyes. “It’s dinnertime. The labs should be clear.”
“I’m not studying tonight.” Red flopped back down on her wrinkled duvet, elbow pillowed under her ear.
Hannah held out her hand. “Come on. You’ll want too. Bring the necklace.”
Red groaned and let the girl pull her up, force her into shoes, and out the door. The escalator spell was still on the brass staircase, so they zoomed down the ten floors. Red propped herself up on the rail, dully staring at the passing stone walls and stained-glass windows. She exited onto the flat ground at the base of the tower. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I migh
t be able to cheer you up,” Hannah said, glancing around with her hands in her pockets, trying to look casual as she sidestepped to a crooked wall tapestry. “Least I can do for being a butthead.”
Red didn’t have the heart to tell the kid that her innocent act sucked.
Hannah slipped under the tapestry into a narrow passageway. “Let’s take the long way.”
Red ducked under the dusty fabric. Her memories weren’t to be trusted but she could have sworn the tapestry hadn’t been near the staircase yesterday. She didn’t recognize the low passage, but it had a darkness to it like the walls hadn’t seen natural light since the ceiling was finished. The academy felt more like an ant hill when she was lost in the twisting halls. Only sporadic wall lamps, blown glass forming horned rabbits and other fantastic shapes, diffused the cavern-like dimness.
“Watch out for the sigil. You can see it with your witch sight.” Hannah pointed to a bare patch in the stone floor. “You’ll spend the rest of the day singing opera—or trying to, in fake Italian.”
Frowning, Red shuffled around the tiny symbol glowing on the floor. “What happened in the lesson today?”
“I was a jerk.” Hannah flushed. “I don’t know, I just kept thinking about last night. I was like a Hero, helping save that woman. That’s how I should be all the time, but I’m not ready. The wolves are out there. I can’t fight them yet.”
“You have before.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I freaked last time. I couldn’t even remember any spells. Even with those other attacks, it was Trudy who saved the day and brought me here. Told me that I had a destiny.” Her mouth twitched like the last word tasted bad.
“That’s why you’re here. Why we’re both here—to learn.” Red shrugged. “You should at least read the Hero manual before going out into the field.”
“You didn’t. You’ve done more without some mysterious Hero destiny. Everyone sees that, even the Immortal Alchemist.”
“Hey, I’m older than you. More time to do stupid shit and nearly die. Besides, that was scary with those wolves. You were right to be freaked.”
“I needed to be saved because I couldn’t put a scratch on them. Some Hero.” Hannah fell silent, guiding Red up an invisible staircase, each step a big F.U. to gravity. Entering a trap door in the ceiling, they passed through a maze of hallways until stopping under a salamander light fixature.
Hannah reached for the door beside it. The keyhole over the knob puckered like an unimpressed mouth. A high-pitched French accent emerged from the hole. “Name the daughter of Gorlois and Igraine.”
“Morgana Le Fay. Ask me a hard one,” Hannah answered, pushing the door open without resistance. She slipped inside. “Now, I remember what the bottle looks like, but we have to search for it.”
Red sat on the long center worktable. A tank full of moist ferns cast weak purple light over strange copper equipment on the stuffed wall counters. The high shelf hummed behind her, the sound emanating from a softly glowing sphere. Neither light sources expelled the heavy shadows in the gloomy chamber. She wanted to turn on a lamp but didn’t want a passerby to notice that someone was in a supposedly locked laboratory. Picking up a forgotten gray lighter, she lit a small candle on the desk. “I’ve been a good sport about roaming the halls, but can you tell me why—"
The shadows faded as candles flicked to life on every surface.
“Oo, nifty!” Red shook herself, remembering she was the adult in the room. “I mean, why are we pulling a B & E in a locked laboratory?”
Hannah grabbed something off a counter shelf. “We’re breaking in because the alchemists have all the good shit, and they don’t like to share. I saw a guest lecture by the guy working in here. He’s doing some stuff that was over my head about neuropathways. Essentially jumpstarting them.”
“…to unlock the mind.” Red whispered, recognizing the humble bottle in Hannah’s palm. She had accidentally stumbled upon Perenelle in this lab before her first lesson. After downing more failed potions for her memory loss than her stomach liked to remember, she hadn’t really noticed it next to the harnessed sunshine. “The enthymema draught.”
“You wanted to dust off some memories. Find out who you were before. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Red punched back the rising hope. She had taken her share of snake oil. Another disappointment this personal would get her crying like a little girl again. Her cheeks burned as she thought of not just Ezra but also the freaking magi-cop seeing her sniffle.
She had been staked in the palm once and managed to banter until she passed out. That had hurt like a son of bitch, but she could wrap her mind around it. She knew what it was, unlike the big hole in her existence that other people filled with family, preteen birthday parties, and thousands of other little moments that made them a real person. They said what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. They were wrong. The journal and necklace were just one more tease from the universe.
Red had once wanted to find her real identity to clear her name with the Brotherhood. At this point, even learning from a Bard, she wasn’t itching to run back after their rejection. If they wanted to kick her out because of a past life and not judge her present, then she’d make her own way. She had worked hard with an empath to manage her panic attacks and process her crazy job. She was flush with cash even after paying an exorbitant Christmas hospital bill. She had cobbled together a few good people too. It wasn’t like she could fit into whatever her old routine had been. She didn’t need to know who she was to live a good life now.
Was the truth even worth this emotional roller coaster? It was trivia. Except for one thing…
“I mean, you don’t have to, but I thought you might want to remember your mom. John Proctor gave you the first clue about her, maybe I’m supposed to give you another,” Hannah said nervously, holding up the silver necklace.
Red tensed, wondering how the other witch had guessed her next thought. “Are you serious?”
“Look at this place. You think they can’t do it?” Hannah put her hands on her hips. She waited, letting her point sink in. “The alchemist who made this—well, I saw his lecture on it. There’s nothing dangerous in the ingredients. You just drink it, and someone guides you wherever you want to go as you sleep. It’s all supposed to be in your subconscious.”
“Sounds like something I did with a shaman.” Red shrugged, shoulders deflating as she kicked her legs out from her perch on the tabletop. It had been an eerie experience that gave her déjà vu when she met Lucas for the first time, but it hadn’t unlocked anything from her mind besides possibly some Spanish vocabulary. “I got some weird dreams out of it, and that’s it.”
“These alchemists aren’t some redneck coven with only one good spell in Granny’s grimoire. This is different!”
Red froze her swinging legs. She didn’t need to know her origins to prove anything. Most of the details wouldn’t change her life. She could live without knowing her high school’s mascot. Seeing her mother. That was different. Each dead end hurt just a little bit more. She didn’t feel ready to offer her heart up for the universe to stomp again.
Hannah switched gears like a salesperson realizing she was losing the sale. “And you don’t need a shaman! I can do it. It’s the least I can do for you saving my life and then me being a jerk and stuff today.”
Rubbing her face, Red nodded. It was clear. She was a glutton for pain. This was at least quicker than brooding about the enthymema draught for a week before breaking down to try it. “Okay. Make me remember my mother’s face.”
Hannah darted around the room, gathering crystals into her hoodie’s front pocket along with a piece of chalk, then grabbed two lit candles. “I want to juice it up a bit. Alchemy is cool, but witchcraft is where it is at.” Hissing as wax dripped on her fingers, she set the candle on the ground to start a sacred circle. She chalked a sigil around the silver necklace outside the ritual space. Frowning, she looked up at Red. “Hey, I know you don’t know me enough to trust
me. But I really do believe this could help. And I’ll do all the cleaning in our dorm for the next week if I’m wrong.”
Swallowing back her fears, Red sat crossed legged on the floor inside the ring of candles. The flames flickered over white quartz, amethyst, and labradorite iridescent like a peacock tail. “Why the witch-washing on the alchemy?”
“The alchemist said you could just drink it, but I figured I should amp the vibes with a ritual.” Hannah drummed her fingers on her folded knees on the other side of the candlelight. The light caught the honey strands in her braided brown hair. “I’m using the necklace to refine the trance’s focus.”
Red nodded. Her subconscious mind couldn’t exactly unlock if her stressed-out consciousness fought it. Each crystal had some benefit to either cleanse negativity, protect, or boost her intuition. “Where did you learn this?”
“It’s an old one from my coven whenever we would do dream magic. My mom taught me. How to align yourself with the elements or tap into a crystal’s vibration. These are just symbols, she told me. They hold power, but it’s what we and the gods give them. A ritual is just a sequence of signs announcing what we want to the universe.” Hannah touched a white quartz, and a light flared within it. Her brown irises darkened to black. “Right now, we want to spark a memory.”
She held out the bottle.
Red tipped enthymema draught back like a shot of rot gut, throwing it over the tongue and down the gullet. She gagged at the inky taste, hunching over. Her belly gurgled, audibly protesting the vile fluid. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her spirit gaze flipped on; the intricate symbols drawn into the ether pulsed, nearly blinding her. She laid back, covering her eyes.
Witch On The Run: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 4) Page 11
