We buried it.
Paisley ate the second nail.
The tracking spell triggered again, leading us out of town.
The third decoy was pinned to the back of the “Welcome to Lake Cowichan” sign. The twins had sacrificed a little red squirrel. I nearly lost it. Not only were red squirrels endangered, the black witches were leaving blood magic out for mundanes to stumble upon.
That was ridiculously irresponsible. And I didn’t need their shit pulling more attention my way.
I had to clean the blood from the sign with wet snow.
I refused to cry, not even certain why I felt the need to do so. My face felt flushed, my eyes hot.
The tracking spell didn’t trigger a fourth time. Either I’d used up all its magic, or the black witches had distracted me long enough to get the mystic under heavy-duty wards, likely preset.
I’d wasted almost an hour and had uncovered only three decoys. The mystic — and the twins — had outsmarted me.
As I should have expected. Chenda had to have noticed it when I pulled out a chunk of her hair. But it was still annoying.
Foiled, Paisley and I headed back into town. We stopped by the Lake Cowichan Lodge, though Jenni had indicated she’d already checked every currently open hotel in town, plus advertised home-stay rentals, for newly registered guests.
Nothing.
As the clairvoyant had indicated.
I wanted to believe that Christopher wouldn’t outright lie. But I couldn’t force myself to trust him.
Paisley paused as we crossed back through town along a different route, watching a floatplane pass overhead. I had no idea whether it was Opal’s flight, or whether she would have been looking down even if she was on board. But, idiotically, I waved anyway.
The “Open” sign was turned outward on Hannah Stewart’s thrift shop — she’d been closed due to the snowstorm — but I hesitated outside. I wanted to step in to check on Hannah. But I didn’t know whether Jenni had told her that her abusive ex-boyfriend was dead, along with his father. And I wasn’t certain that news should come from me, or how I would explain even knowing anything about it, house-fire cover story or not.
My chest felt raw. I could brush it off as a residual ache from the death curse I’d fought off. But some part of me understood that I’d gone through an emotional wringer over the previous few days, and that it was going to take a while for that to settle.
Christopher’s betrayal wasn’t helping.
The cool detachment I had spent my entire life cultivating — specifically as a counter to my empathy — felt irreparably damaged. Unsalvageable.
In the hands of a telepath with the mystic’s level of power, that was a weakness that could be easily exploited.
I didn’t have exploitable weaknesses.
Or at least I didn’t used to have exploitable weaknesses.
So even though talking to Hannah, and maybe even buying a gift for Opal or a luxury item for myself, might have temporarily soothed me, I didn’t think it would help me at all in the fight I was facing.
Friendships, family, and the heavy sense of loss and betrayal creating a raw open wound in my chest weren’t going to help me vanquish the mystic. And knowing Chenda had moved through town previously without my sensing it, talking with Hannah would expose my attachments even further. My weaknesses.
So I stepped away from the window of the thrift shop.
Brushing my fingertips along the softly furred length of Paisley’s ear, I headed home.
I needed more information. Then we needed to regroup.
Chapter 8
Aiden’s SUV was parked beside the barn by the time Paisley and I returned to the property. I secured the gate, expecting Paisley to check on the chicks and Christopher in the barn. But the demon dog stayed at my side, following me up the front steps into the house. I stripped off my boots and raincoat just inside the door, then tracked the active hum of Aiden’s magic into the study.
Samantha was sitting on the fir floor with her back pressed against the window-seat bench, flipping through a thick leather-bound book. The grow lights set over Christopher’s lemon, lime, and avocado plants on the window seat played across the lighter strands within her halo of dark hair. Her legs were bent around a large cardboard box that appeared to have been dropped into the center of the study, taking up the bulk of the floor space between the built-in bookshelves and desk.
Aiden, who was balancing three books in his left hand while trying to flip through another book in his right, hovered over the box. A small stack of books sat to one side of the desk, behind the sorcerer.
The telekinetic’s magic was still so muted that when I’d entered the house, I had assumed she was still sleeping upstairs.
Aiden pinned his bright-blue eyes on me the instant I stepped through the door. And for a brief moment, I just held his gaze, allowing myself that respite.
“Progress report,” Samantha snapped, setting the book she’d been reading on a growing stack next to her left shoulder, then pulling another book from the box and glancing at the spine.
Paisley pushed by me, bumping against Aiden, then lingering so the sorcerer could acknowledge her with the proper amount of petting. He managed to balance the books all in one hand in order to accomplish the task.
“No leads, no trail,” I said. “The witches’ tracking spell led me to three decoys.”
Samantha growled under her breath. “You shouldn’t have given the witches all the hair. We could have the sorcerer cast his own tracking spell.” She indicated Aiden with a jerk of her chin, as if I wouldn’t know what sorcerer she was talking about. “He’s more powerful than a weak coven, let alone those two by themselves. Anything cast by a Pine witch wouldn’t be strong enough to counter the twins.”
“Focusing primarily on the amulets for Opal, Capri, and Ember was the right call,” Aiden said mildly. “Even if working with a hair sample wasn’t a strong suit for Ember and Capri. I witnessed the spell the twins crafted to drag the mystic off the property, even though they were almost wholly drained by Emma. That was dark sacrificial magic. Even with DNA for the mystic, it was unlikely that witches of the light would have been able to penetrate the black witches’ shielding. Maybe if Emma had gotten a hair sample from one of the twins instead. Maybe.”
“And you?” Samantha asked mockingly, though her tone was weary. “Could you penetrate the witches’ darkness?”
Aiden didn’t bother glancing at her. “Yes. With time and the right set of runes. But since Emma is more than a match for the witches, blocking a telepathic assault from the mystic was, and is, the priority.” He glanced at the telekinetic. His expression could have been hewn from stone. “I imagine the binding the mystic holds over you will be the biggest obstacle.”
“I already offered to leave, sorcerer,” Samantha spat.
“That would make it more difficult for Emma to protect you.”
Samantha bared her teeth at the sorcerer, but then looked pointedly at me. “All up in our business, isn’t he?”
I gave her a look, not bothering to address her continually simmering irritability. The muted tenor of her magic concerned me. Sleeping even for a couple of hours should have helped it recover much more than it had.
Paisley stuck her head in the large box, snuffling around.
I offered Aiden a smile. “Opal?”
“Minutes from landing in Vancouver,” he said, setting one of the books he held on the desk while adding two others to the pile on the floor beside Samantha. “She promised to text when she lands. And Ember will check in, of course. Capri tried to give me the amulets right before they boarded the plane, but I knew you’d want them to keep them.”
“Thank you. With the twins drained, going after Opal would be a logical move for the mystic.” I eyed Samantha. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was. Then the courier rang the doorbell. Multiple times. Feeling the magic coming off the box, I considered running him through with Knox’s swo
rd, but instead I just signed for the delivery.” She narrowed her eyes. “He wanted to help me bring the box into the house. Said it was heavy. He’d used a dolly to get it on the patio.”
I didn’t think she was joking about contemplating killing the courier. Even I could feel magic emanating from the books — sorcerer and witch power by its tenor.
“Your library?” I asked Aiden, smiling softly.
He grinned at me. “First box. I figured I should ease you in.”
Samantha snorted. “You read that one right.”
I shook my head at her. “If you’re up, you should be debriefing me.”
“I’m being useful,” she protested, sounding almost like Opal. “We’re looking for texts about anything related to telepathy. Plus … I didn’t feel like dealing with Christopher without you here.”
“You’re the one who throws things when angry.”
“Yeah.” She grimaced. “Exactly. And I’m not … feeling great.”
Aiden stilled, looking up from the book he was reading. “Worse? After you napped?”
She twisted her lips but didn’t otherwise answer him.
Aiden glanced at me.
I shook my head. “Maybe I amplified the wrong thing?”
“Can you do that? Intensify an already-cast spell? Or a binding?”
“No.”
“Not that you know,” Samantha grumbled, reaching into the box of books to pull out a tome with black leather boards and green fabric binding. “That’s the thing about taking up with one of the Five, sorcerer. We adapt.” Then she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, looking at me ruefully. “Usually.”
“We’ll fix it, Zans,” I said.
She nodded, distractedly flipping the book open. “It was probably the stupid stunt of trying to take off with Paisley that drained me, not Socks. Because she and I are made for each other.” She grinned and playfully snapped her teeth in my direction.
“So I’ve been warned,” Aiden said. Then he flashed me a teasing grin.
Samantha barked out a laugh. “I forgot you met Fish. So yeah, you know. I’m impressed you stuck around.”
Paisley backed up from the box, padding over to me. She was still wearing her large pit bull aspect, but now held three books captured within her tentacles.
“Don’t eat those, please,” I said to her.
She snarfled, then offered one of the books to me. I glanced at the spine: Advanced Forms of Mental Bindings.
Interesting. “Did this smell similar to the mystic’s magic?” I asked.
She offered me a toothy smile. Her mouth was slightly too wide for her face.
“Really?” Aiden asked, setting his books aside and reaching for the book I held. “Brilliant, Paisley.”
She chortled, then headbutted the sorcerer in the hip, nearly knocking him into the bookshelves.
“Thank you.” I rubbed the tip of one of her ears. “It’s past time for afternoon tea.”
Aiden nodded, already engrossed in the opening pages of the tome Paisley had pulled from the box.
I turned back into the hall.
“Afternoon tea? What? She drinks tea on a schedule now?” Samantha asked Aiden behind me. Then she called out to me, louder. “I’m not going to repeat myself, so you should get Knox.”
I ignored her, heading into the kitchen.
The telekinetic grumbled. Then a pile of books crashed to the ground, and I felt her dim magic shift as she crossed through the house in the other direction, heading out to the barn.
In the kitchen, I crossed around the island, filled the stainless steel kettle with water, and set it to boil on the stove.
Aiden wandered in, reading as he walked. Behind him, Paisley was also pretending to read from the second of her purloined books as she lumbered along. Or perhaps she wasn’t pretending. I’d never tested her for that particular ability, which was most likely shortsighted of me. Though being on the run for most of the previous eight years had tended to force my focus on the immediate over the long term, especially when it came to training.
“Looking for alternative ways to block the mystic?” I asked, moving around the kitchen to set out the teapot, side plates, and napkins on the speckled quartz counter of the island.
Aiden nodded, flipping a page. “Warding the house is the priority. Even amplified by you, I can’t get the property boundary fully up in the next twenty-four hours. And we shouldn’t assume that the twins will be down for longer than that.”
“I agree. Despite the retreat, I don’t think I ran them off at all. I think the confrontation might have been a test.”
He nodded as if only half listening. But the mystic’s assault had been clumsier than what I would have expected from a former member of the Collective. The hit we Five had taken from her on the rooftop in LA had been decisive and strategic. She’d taken out Bee, stunning all of us through our connection to the telepath to varying degrees. Knocking out Christopher, staggering me. Even Daniel had gone all the way down, forcing Samantha to watch over him until he’d shaken off the mental assault.
But Chenda couldn’t use our blood-bound connection to Bee to take us out in this new scenario. So she’d tested our defenses. First, incapacitating Aiden by having the witches tear through his half-finished wards. Then confronting me head-on. And she’d had no idea Christopher was on the property. No idea that Samantha wasn’t in fighting form.
It had been a risky assault.
The mystic was arrogant, to be sure, but she was no idiot. So it had to have been a test. A test for me. To see if I’d gained any new abilities? Either as a natural extrapolation of my magic or by stealing power from other Adepts? As a member of the Collective, Chenda would know how they’d built me, how they’d created all the Five. She’d know about all my abilities, as well as how stained my soul was from everything they’d made me do. Every life they’d forced me to take, even as they’d given me my abnormal strength, my speed, my healing abilities.
A test.
Yet another test.
As infuriating as that thought was, it felt like a solid assumption. If I was Chenda’s biggest obstacle in getting to Samantha, in getting the Five back under her control, what had I revealed to her on the front lawn?
The mystic had been surprised by Silver Pine’s demise. So there were gaps in her knowledge. She was out of date.
Aiden stepped by me, taking the whistling kettle off the stove. I’d been so deep in my head that I hadn’t noticed it. The water would be too hot now after boiling so long. I’d need to let it cool for a bit before steeping the tea. Or more properly, I should have just heated another kettle.
Then I realized that I needed to actually select a tea in order to know how hot I wanted to steep it.
Aiden leaned his hip against the kitchen island, settling in across from me. So I just gazed at him, losing myself in his beauty just for a single breath.
He looked up from his book. “Emma?”
I shook my head. “Thinking … about how my weaknesses can be used against the others.”
“What weaknesses?” he whispered, his tone gentle. “Like caring?”
“No.” I laughed. “I wasn’t even thinking about emotional weaknesses. The mystic might appear to be in her midforties, but as a member of the Collective …”
“A contemporary of my father’s …”
“Yes. I might be a match magically, one on one, with anyone, any Adept. But I think I might have just failed some sort of test with the mystic.”
“No. Even if it started out as a test, they wouldn’t have backed off if we’d failed.” He emphasized the ‘we’ with a tight smile. “But I think it will be much more difficult for you to lay hands on the witches in the second assault.”
“I agree.” I leaned against him for a moment, feeling Samantha and Christopher moving toward the house from the barn. “Also …”
“Opal.”
“Yes. It … hurts.”
“It does.” He laughed quietly, but pained.
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I looked up at him. “You too?”
He nodded. “I’ve never really had any contact with kids. I was the youngest growing up. But … something about teaching Opal …” He trailed off, then pressed his lips to my forehead and just held them there.
His emotions filtered through the empathic connection that was only ever a touch away for us now. Sadness. Regret. Confusion.
“Capri’s going to fight any request for guardianship or adoption. I’m worried I’ll never see Opal again.”
“Never is a long time,” he murmured. “And I’ll do anything I can to help.”
I nodded.
Footsteps sounded on the back patio as Samantha and Christopher crossed toward the laundry room entrance. I exhaled harshly, opening my tea drawer and selecting an organic Bangladesh black tea. We all needed the caffeine boost. Aiden trailed his fingers down my arm, then picked his book back up.
Paisley was sprawled out by the kitchen table, waving the bovine bone overhead while peering at a book open between her two front paws. She appeared to be attempting to cast a spell.
I hesitated for a moment, contemplating stopping her.
Then I poured hot water through the strainer, set the timer for three minutes, and set out cookies instead.
If Paisley managed to actually cast anything from a sorcerer’s spellbook, it would be better for her to do so in front of us all. She would only do it in secret if I tried to stop her.
Samantha crossed in from the laundry room, making a beeline to slump on a stool by the island. Christopher stepped just inside the door, leaning back against the wall, keeping his distance.
That was fine with me.
“Chenda, the Mystic of the Golden Peninsula,” I said. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing,” Samantha said. “She’s one of my ongoing targets. As far as Fish and I have been able to track, the Collective definitely splintered after the attack in LA, then was hit hard when we took down the compound in Peru. But there were outposts, secondary facilities. Over the last eight years, Fish and I have identified other key members of the Collective and systematically eliminated them. If we could find them. If we couldn’t, we whittled away at their holdings.”
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