Clara nods. “I think so.”
Heather continues.
“The name Cailleach means ‘hag’ or ‘old woman’ in old Gaelic language. I’ve always hated it, I mean, do we look like hags?” She chuckles.
“We’ve managed to live amongst ‘normal’ people for centuries without being noticed unless we’ve shown ourselves. Bad things tend to happen when we do. You know what happened to Annabelle, and I am sure you have read or heard about all the witch trials in the seventeenth century. People are frightened of the unknown.”
Colt places a cup of coffee in front of Clara. “Thank you,” she says and turns to look at him. He looks so worn out. “Will you be ok if I go get showered and stuff now, Clara? I’ll have to go and check on Danny and Sarah soon.” He has a pained look in his eyes like he’s terrified she’ll crack again.
“I’ll be fine, Colt, thank you for everything,” she says. “Sorry I lost the plot again, you must be growing bored of my outbursts.”
He kneels so he’s eye level and turns her chin so she is looking at him. “You kick and scream as much as you like, you have a right to be pissed after everything you’ve gone through. Just promise me you’ll always talk to me and not hide away if something is bothering you?” His eyes plead with her.
“Ok, I promise.” He leans in and places a lingering kiss on her lips. She kisses him back and as he pulls away they share a look, that speaks a thousand words. She blushes, remembering their lovemaking last night and the things he did to her.
“If you need me just holla, ok?” he says, his voice a little deeper than before. Clara watches Colt leave the room, and then turns her focus back to Heather who has been staring at her this whole time, with a weird expression on her face.
“You love him,” Heather says. It’s not a question. Clara nods. “In all of this darkness he has been my light. I know you’re probably angry at him.”
“Why would I be angry at him?”
Clara shrugs. “I dunno, because he’s your familiar, and I’m your er – daughter.” “And you’re both adults. Colt’s a good boy, I know he’ll do right by you, Clara. I am glad you have found one another.” There was a sadness in Heather’s eyes.
“What was my dad like?” Clara asks.
Heather looks a little surprised at the question at first but then her expression softens. “He was so handsome, Clara. He had auburn hair and the greenest eyes I had ever seen, in some lights they looked like emeralds, just like yours. He was tough and so fiercely protective of all his girls. He loved us all so much. He would be so proud of the beautiful brave woman you have grown up to be.” There were tears in her eyes again Clara covered Heather’s hands with her own.
“I am sorry you lost him, I wish I could have known him.” Tears were blurring her own vision; she knew what it was like to lose the people you were closest to.
“We didn’t lose him, Clara, he was snatched away from us, by the same person who had you locked away and tortured,” Heather spat, the venom back in her voice.
Could it be the same man who murdered Annabelle and her family?
“Dominus and the Domini Bellatorum? But how could he survive this long?” “It’s not him, well, not him exactly. It’s complicated... The stories tell of an ancient warlock named Dominus and I thought the same thing as you, until I did some digging. His life cycle is the same as ours – we live, reproduce, and die like humans. The only difference between spectral and human life spans is that we are we are reborn generations down the line. That’s why he wanted to wipe out Annabelle’s entire family, so she couldn’t resurface in the future. She didn’t for centuries, that was until you were born, Clara. It’s her blood and magic which courses through your veins, it’s her memories which are buried in that beautiful head of yours... Dominus knew how powerful Annabelle’s magic was, that’s why he wanted her entire bloodline killed. Unfortunately for him some of his followers were sickened by what they witnessed that day in the church yard and gave Nicholas to a family a few towns over who had just lost an infant. The family raised him as their own and he grew up and had children himself. It’s a possibility he could have never known what he was, or he could have kept it hidden, it’s never been confirmed whether Nicholas was a familiar or a warlock,” Heather says.
“Wow, so what you’re saying is the sicko who had me locked up could be a genetic rebirth of Dominus? And he wants to finish the job his other self started. This is messed up.” Clara looks bewildered by this information.
“I know, it’s very confusing. It’s a possibility he could want you for himself. Don’t forget, Dominus was infatuated with Annabelle, he thought she belonged to him. I believe he will be just as infatuated with you and that’s why he kept you alive. He would have shown up and presented himself as your saviour at some point, and tried to earn your trust, but you, my clever girl, you managed to escape.” Heather smiles at her. “He will have been taught our ways from birth, he’ll have a large following and be well protected. Unfortunately, the Domini Bellatorum didn’t die with Dominus, his legacy carried on through the generations. They’ve awaited their Master’s return. We need to get you ready. I’ll teach you everything I can but it’s not going to be easy, there’s a lot to take in and not a lot of time,” Heather says.
“Will I need to find a familiar like you?” Clara asked, feeling rather overwhelmed by everything. “No, sweetheart. I mean, you can if you want to but, the power that resides inside you allows you to change any familiar without using the bonding spell. You can channel their magic with only a conjuring,” Heather explains, looking thoughtful.
“Like with Colt last night?” “Exactly like that, you just have to know what the proper name of the animal they embody is and their change is yours.”
“This is the weirdest conversation I think I have ever had with anyone, I can’t believe I am having it with someone I thought died a long time ago... I am waiting to wake up,” Clara exclaims.
“Well, sweetness, it’s abou t to get a lot crazier. Are you ready to embrace your destiny, Clara?” Heather asks with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, I think I am, or at least ready to give it a go.”
Heather’s beautiful face lights up and she claps her hands together. “Oh, excellent. Well, first things first. I’ve changed my mind, we need to sort a plan out. I need Amelia and my gorgeous granddaughter here with us. How do you feel about pretending to be dead?”
Chapter Thirteen
Three weeks later
Emmie “She didn’t run away, she wouldn’t do that, you need to keep searching, it’s only been eight weeks. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO? IT’S YOUR FUCKING JOB!”
The line goes quiet. They hung up. How dare they hang up on her? She stopped herself before launching her mobile across the room, but slammed it down on the pine coffee table, wincing when it was harder than she had planned.
She had paid them a small fortune for their services and they tell her there’s nothing more they can do, fucking assholes.
The police had been useless and judging by that phone call from the pompous dickhead on the other end, it looked like the private investigator she had hired was even worse – they had uncovered nothing. She was at a loss as to what to do next. She ran her hand through her blonde hair, searching her brain for an answer.
Her sister hadn’t run away, she had been taken. She just knew in her heart Clara was still alive. Someone had her and she would get her back or die trying, she would just have to do it on her own.
She sat down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands.
“Where are you, Clara?” she said to the empty room.
“MUMMY!” a little voice shouted from upstairs. Hope, she must have woken her shouting at that useless piece of shit. She checked her watch. Shit. It was almost 10pm, bloody private investigator and his late evening calls.
She made her way up the stairs to her daughter’s bedroom and opened the door. Hope was sitting in the centre of her pink princess b
ed surrounded by stuffed toys and dolls; her dark hair was all tousled and messy. She rubbed her green eyes, still tired from being rudely woken.
“Hey sweetie, Mummy’s sorry she woke you.” Emmie walked over and sat on Hope’s bed, pulling her onto her lap. These last few months had been so hard on Hope; she still had trouble sleeping. She cursed herself for disturbing her.
“Who was you shouting at, Mummy?” She yawned, cuddling into Emmie’s chest.
“No one you need to worry about, sweet pea. Mummy just got cross with someone on the phone, but I am ok now.” She feathered light kisses across Hope’s hair.
“Mummy, can I have some hot chocolate?” Emmie smiled at her daughter’s sudden change of topic. Her daughter definitely had her priorities sorted.
What the hell, after that bad news, she could do with some Hope cuddles. “Come on then, monster mash, we’ll get some hot chocolate and have a snuggle then it’s time to try and get some sleep. It’s nearly Mummy’s bed time too, you know.”
“Is Daddy having another sleep over at his friend’s?” Hope asked, and Emmie winced. Hope was so aware of everything going on. Emmie had tried so hard to keep her out of the problems she and Will had been having, and was really working on keeping things positive for her, but it was getting harder and harder, she was missing Clara terribly.
“Yes, dolly legs, it’s just me and you again tonight,” she said, praying she wouldn’t be bombarded with more questions. After that phone call she wasn’t strong enough to keep her emotions in check and the last thing she wanted was to get upset in front of Hope.
Thankfully Hope seemed to accept it and moved on to another subject.
“Can I watch TV with you for a bit?” Emmie smiled and placed a kiss on her daughter’s nose. “We’ll see, lovely girl. Come on, let’s go make this hot chocolate.”
They spent the next hour sitting on the sofa snuggled under a blanket sipping hot chocolate and watching a silly movie about an ogre and a talking donkey. Hope was in her usual talkative mood and asked so many questions about the movie. She was determined that she was going to be a princess and marry a prince when she got bigger, but he wouldn’t look like an ogre and he wouldn’t make stinky trumpy sounds like Daddy.
She couldn’t help chuckling at Hope’s funny little sayings. By the time the credits of the movie were on the screen Hope was fast asleep snuggled into Emmie’s side; her heart just melted every time she looked at her daughter’s beautiful face.
This little girl had been the only thing that had kept her going these last three months. Two weeks after Clara had disappeared, her husband Will had admitted he had been having an affair with one of the women from work, that’s why he had been ‘working late’ or ‘working away’. She had kicked him out. He was now staying at Kevin’s house who was one of their mutual friends from college. She couldn’t be around him anymore. It had put more cracks in her already fragile heart. They had been having issues for a long time, but she thought they would work through them. She never thought he would ever be unfaithful.
It had been so tough, but she held it together and put on a brave face for Hope’s sake. She had gone back to work in the hospital a week ago; they needed the money and she needed something else to focus on other than all the crap that was happening. Work was good, delivering babies for a living was a great distraction and kept her mind busy.
She looked at her watch, it was almost midnight. She picked up Hope and carried her up the stairs. She was halfway up the stairs when a knock sounded on the front door.
Who would be knocking at this time of night? She carried Hope into her room and placed her back into her bed, covering her with her pink princess duvet.
The knocking sounded again, it was a little louder, then a deep authoritative voice spoke loudly through the letter box. “Mrs Stewart, you need to open up, we have some information regarding your sister.”
Clara. She made her way back down the stairs quickly and looked through the peep hole. A police man and woman stood on the other side of the door. That smell; these officers were shape-shifters, she had met a few since she discovered what she was.
She had kept her secret for a long time – not even Clara knew. She had only ever changed twice, but she hated what she became, the loss of control she felt.
The first time she felt the change happen was when she was fifteen. She had been staying at one of her friends’ houses. She was woken in the middle of the night by a sudden urge to tear her own skin off, it had consumed her. She had crept out and ran as fast and as far away as she could. She had ended up in an abandoned field about a mile away. That’s where the change happened, it was the scariest moment of her life. The second time was a few months ago, just after Clara disappeared.
Who would believe her? She’d be put into a straightjacket. She had kept it secret all this time, not understanding why it had happened to her. That was until she met Jane, another shape-shifter who introduced her to a group.
There was a handful of people who were the same as her, they could all change into different animals. They called themselves spectrals or familiars and some were even bound to a companion. whatever that meant; she hadn’t asked, it was all too weird for her.
She had stopped meeting up with them all after going to a meeting one night and witnessing them all naked and chanting about the sacred bond. The last thing she wanted was to be part of a freaky cult, it reminded her of all the night terrors she had as a child.
She had spent part of her younger years having nightmares of witches and shadow demons; she used to wake up screaming. Even thinking about the content of those dreams still gave her the creeps. They had started up again recently and kept her awake some nights, terrified to go back to sleep.
The child psychologists had put that down to her separation anxiety from her sister. She hadn’t met a witch or shadow demon, she had no intention of ever coming in to contact with one, if they even existed. Those dreams had stopped once she and Clara had been reunited. She hoped once Clara was home they would stop – she was exhausted.
She hoped the police on the other side of this door had good news about her sister. She unlocked and opened up; she was taken aback by how ruggedly handsome the male officer was. She actually felt herself blush a little.
The woman looked very similar to him, in fact they could be siblings.
“H-hi, what’s going on?” she stuttered nervously. “Good evening, Mrs Stewart. This is Officer Brooker, I am officer Thomson. We apologise for calling so late, can we come in?” the female officer said.
“Of course.” She stepped aside and directed them to the lounge, glad she hadn’t had chance to change out of her jeans and sweatshirt. She followed them in and headed for the couch.
Her hands shook nervously as she folded the blanket she and Hope had been cuddled under only moments ago.
“You’re going to want to take a seat,” Officer Handsome said.
She sat on the edge of the sofa and nodded for them to continue, unable to speak. “Mrs Stewart, we are sorry to have to tell you this but we have found a woman’s body that matches your sister’s description. We have a photograph of the woman we found, and we need you to identify it. We can either show you it here or you can come tomorrow to the station and you can view it there if you want.”
What...? No, this wasn’t happening. “I’d like to see the picture now please,” she said. How was her voice so calm?
Her hand shook as they passed a small photograph over, face down. “We have to warn you, Mrs Stewart, before you turn that photograph over. The woman in the picture has some bruising to her face, she was quite badly beaten when we found her,” the female officer said.
She turned the picture over. It was Clara; her face was a lot paler than usual and her beautiful green eyes were closed. She looked like she was sleeping.
Her heart shattered to pieces.
Clara was dead.
***
The police stayed for a while but they offered little comfo
rt. The female officer sat with her until Will turned up. He had held her for a little while but she couldn’t cry or hug him back, she was dead inside. Nothing would ease the emptiness inside her heart.
He said something about staying with Hope while she processed it all. What was there to process? Clara was gone, dead, and she would never get to talk to her again. She had just nodded at him and locked herself in her bedroom. Once the door was closed and she was alone with her thoughts she let herself feel. She sobbed until her ribs hurt; her exhausted body gave in and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
***
She hadn’t slept or eaten for two days. Will had stayed with Hope and took her to school, he had said something about keeping things normal for her. That had pissed her off and broke her heart at the same time – nothing would ever be normal for her ever again. One of Hope’s most favourite people in the whole wide world was gone forever and she couldn’t bring herself to tell her.
She had shouted at him, he had left, she had cried some more. How would she explain everything to Hope?
***
Today was the day she got to see her.
She walked down main street; the cold wind chilled her to the bones. She didn’t bother to zip up her trench coat, it felt good to feel something other than the constant numbness.
It had been a week since the police visit, a week before they’d said her body was ready to view. She put one foot in front of the other as she crossed the road on Chester’s main street. The Chapel of Remembrance was down one of the side streets opposite an old art museum, the woman had said on the phone.
She was surprised she had even made it out of the house, the whole week had been a big emotional blur. The depression and anxiety of what she was about to do was eating her whole and she couldn’t stop her brain from spiralling into darkened thoughts.
Will had been brilliant with Hope but he wasn’ t Mummy. Emmie knew her daughter was worried about her and was missing her terribly. She had decided after today she needed to work on getting her act together and start attempting to get over this fucked up, shitty situation. Her little girl needed her mum and she would make sure she had her.
Unfamiliar (The Vandran Legacy Book 1) Page 14
