“Incredible power. No denying that. Was it the same vision? The exact same?”
“I saw the shadow. I saw the people—they didn’t have faces, only shapes. I couldn’t make out who they were, but I felt… as if I knew them.” Mara trailed off.
“Shit. This is worse than bad.”
“I never had any doubt. We’ll make it, sweetie,” Mara murmured. “We always do.”
Andy wasn’t so sure. They may have beaten the odds before. This time they might not. “Have you ever had a vision like this before?” She hated that her voice seemed so small.
After taking the time to gather her thoughts, Mara spoke in a soft voice. Softer fingers tucked Andy’s hair back from her face. “I have. Once. Before your father died, I saw it. I was out of sorts for days. I warned him. I—” Her smile slipped to sadness. “But that was a long time ago. I haven’t felt anything so horrible since.” She pressed her lips together. “Yes. It will be bad, but we’ll make it. It’s what we do.”
“Shit, Mom—you couldn’t lie? Just a little bit to make me feel better?”
The door opened with a soft click, silencing the rest of her words. Vinnie stepped in, two steaming mugs on a tray. Neoma too, tall and thin, hovered in the doorway behind her.
“Oh, thank the gods. My mouth is so dry.” Andy pulled the blanket closer to her and gratefully accepted the mug. Mara murmured a thank you and blew across the rim before she sipped.
Neoma sat with Andy at the edge of the bed. She still wore her white tank top and pastel pink pajama bottoms, her hair thrown into a messy ponytail. She must’ve been jarred awake by the commotion. There were dark circles under her eyes.
Andy was glad to have her there, all the same. Out of habit, her eyes flicked to Neoma’s long neck, seeking out the charmed piece of green malachite she wore. Seeing the empathy-dampener in place, Andy breathed a little easier. It was quite a relief knowing Neoma wouldn’t feel their fatigue and ever-fluctuating emotional states.
“I’m okay enough for this,” Neoma said, smiling some when she saw where Andy’s gaze had drawn. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Easier said than done. Worrying is one of the things I do best.” Andy sipped her tea.
“You do a lot of things best. Worry about yourself.”
“I can’t. I’m worried about everyone else. The vision’s not just about me, you know. It’s about everyone. It’s about the city. It’s about something bigger than us. It’s—”
“—everything,” Neoma whispered.
Andy closed her eyes and nodded tiredly. She couldn’t fight what she knew to be true.
Neoma rubbed Andy’s knee gently. “It’s everything,” she repeated and sighed.
“What do you mean?” Vinnie asked from nearby. “‘It’s everything’. What does that mean?”
“It means,” Mara began, “that the vision’s bigger than anything we’ve ever seen before.”
Andy opened her eyes, studied Vinnie’s face as she continued. “It’s bigger than one or two of us. It’s not about me. It’s not about Casey. It’s about every one of us. Maybe even the whole town. It’s all-encompassing. It’s… everything.”
“Oh.” That single syllable said so much—disappointment, fear, uncertainty. Vinnie sat next to Mara, shoulders slumped with defeat. “I had hoped for something else. Something… better.”
“It never gets better.” Andy’s laugh held no humor. “The visions don’t come with good news. I don’t even know what good news is anymore.”
Vinnie licked her lips. “I mean, I just wish we had some idea of what to expect.” She glanced at Mara. “No such luck, huh?”
“Not in this case, no.” Mara sighed.
Silence fell. The air in the room grew heavy, uneasy. Next to her, Neoma shifted and pulled her hand back into her own lap. She took in a deep breath and broke the quiet with her soft but even voice. “We need to brainstorm. We take the details of your visions—both visions—and compare them.” Neoma looked to Mara. “Then we try some good, old-fashioned interpretation. Maybe we can piece together something from the symbolism if nothing else. We’ve done it before.”
“We have but this is—” Andy faltered for an explanation. “It’s heavy. Too heavy. It’s like it’s crushing my chest and I can’t breathe.” She closed her eyes again, squeezing them tight. “I don’t know anymore but I want to know. I want to know what to expect. These visions don’t tell me a godsdamn thing.”
Gods, she hated every part of this—the helplessness, the pitying way they all looked at her. Breath escaped her in a sharp huff. “And I want to rest, but I can’t.” She combed fingers through her hair and loosened a few knots. “I don’t think I’ll ever rest again.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Mara’s weariness fled and her Mom Voice came out, stern and sharp. “Andromeda Nicole” —oh shit, she’d middle-named her. This was serious— “listen to me.” She took hold of her shoulder and turned Andy to face her. “This is not the end.” Her piercing eyes held her captive. “We’ve been through worse. We can survive worse. We will survive worse.”
Andy thought immediately of her father’s death, of Victor choking on his blood. She remembered her childhood in flight. She remembered moving from city to city, country to country only steps ahead of his murderers. She thought of her teen-aged self and those long nights in magical detox. She remembered screaming for the dark magic she craved while Mara held and soothed her. She remembered crying for the men and women she’d killed to get away. She remembered Jeremy and his open, unseeing eyes—
Yes, those were worse times and she’d survived. Andy was strong and so was her mother, but this? This trumped everything else. She knew it deep down and she couldn’t shake it.
“We will make it through this, whatever it is. We’ll do it, together. That’s what we do. I don’t care if it sounds cliche or not. You put that defeatist attitude on ice and get some rest. We’ll kick ass later,” Mara said.
Peering into her eyes, Andy saw nothing but hope and sincerity. Guilt hit her and she swallowed hard. She wanted the reassurance of those simple words, but she didn’t have it. Mara knew what she knew, felt what she felt and yet—“How do you have so much faith?”
“Because I know you. And you’re strong.”
She may have been strong physically and magically, but emotionally? No. She lacked that. “Okay,” she said and swallowed back her emotions. “I’m glad someone believes in me because I’m not sure I do right now.” She cut her eyes to Neoma. The brunette smiled and gave a small nod.
Mara’s smile grew a little more too and she looked toward Neoma and Vinnie. “I know you’re both worried, but please… give us some privacy to rest. Vinnie, hon, tell Mason if he learns anything new—”
“Yeah, I’ll let him know,” Vinnie murmured.
“We won’t be far.” Neoma’s gaze lingered on Andy for a second longer before she followed Vinnie out the door.
The second the door clicked shut, the dam broke. Andy sobbed, tears falling hot down her face. She couldn’t stop them. Her second breakdown of the day, fresh on the heels of the first and the most devastating vision of her life. It had to be a new record.
She sank into the comfort and protection of her mother’s embrace. She cried and Mara held her and that was all she could handle right then.
Strength? She had no more strength.
Vinnie
“She’s crying.”
Vinnie could hear it. An obvious statement, yes, but Neoma verbalizing made it all the more real. This was one of those rare times when she did not envy the power of precognition.
Though the hallway felt tight with the three of them crowded into it, it also felt quite empty. Casey leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. Worry etched across her face but when Vinnie glanced in her direction, she looked away.
Neoma stood closest to the door, her full lips drawn thin with concern. She helped more, Vinnie reasoned, than she ever could. The empath. She could tel
l exactly what someone felt and how to handle it. She could even alter it and take away the pain—a risky sort of ability, to hear tell, but it could be done. She could literally draw away their suffering.
And all Vinnie could do was hover nearby and bring tea. Shouldn’t she be able to do more? Jealousy flared in her chest, hot and troubling.
Neoma turned, brows furrowed as she aimed the concern at her now. Heat rose to Vinnie’s cheeks as embarrassment followed close on envy’s heels. The empath arched an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she murmured, looking away.
Neoma dismissed it with a shake of her head. “It’s fine,” she said, offering a tiny smile. It disappeared a minute later, worry returning in full force when her gaze flicked back to the door.
Vinnie knew it wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. She hesitated, licking her lips before she asked, “What did you feel?” Usually, she didn’t question the results of Neoma’s talent, but given the brevity of the situation, she had to know.
Neoma’s eyes held immeasurable sadness. They were always a touch sad, but this sadness went beyond the usual.
It scared her.
“I felt… tension. It’s hard to explain. There’s a lot of frustration from everyone. Fear.” She folded her arms around her thin body and cut her gaze back to the door. “Worry. Too much—” She went silent, as if unable to put more to words.
If Vinnie could feel that tension too, just how much more did Neoma feel? No, she wouldn’t want Neoma’s power for the world either. She watched her, thankful for her strength. Vinnie, certainly no empath, was barely hanging on.
When Neoma looked at her sharply once more, Vinnie realized she’d projected her emotions again. She smiled apologetically “I’ll just… go downstairs. Until I’m needed.” Yeah, right. “If anything happens—”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Neoma assured her.
It did nothing to make her feel better, but Vinnie smiled weakly. She tucked hair behind her ear and turned to Casey. “You wanna come with me?”
Casey pushed away from the wall. “Yeah.”
Vinnie let out a breath. She’d been afraid she’d say no—though she had no idea why she would—and relief flooded through her. One good thing, she thought, in the sea of bad. Just like when she’d grabbed her hand back in Andy’s bedroom. A little thing, but it meant so much—and she could really use the company.
After nodding to Neoma, she headed down the steps with Casey close behind. The wide staircase, a testament to an affluent architectural style, twisted at the base into the open foyer. Mason met them there, having entered from the dining room. He looked more haggard than Vinnie could remember. When was the last time he slept?
“Are they well?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “Have they mentioned the visions?” His gaze remained unflinchingly steady on her face.
“N-no. I mean, Andy didn’t say. And Mom didn’t give details either. All I know is it’s bad and—” She shrugged her shoulder helplessly. “Did you find out anything? About that power surge? About the demon summonings?”
Mason ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more disheveled. He looked so far from his usual collected self. Seeing him fall apart worried her more than she liked. Dreading the answer, Vinnie drew in on herself, arm wrapped about her torso.
“Some,” he admitted, “but not enough to locate a definite source. There is no denying it has grown stronger. It feels local, but—” Mason cut himself off, leaving his thought unfinished. He swiftly turned to Casey, gaze still intense.
She edged back from the power of the stare. Her eyes widened. “What? What is it?”
Mason didn’t answer that. He flicked his gaze to Vinnie again, but he didn’t see her. “I need to confer,” he said, distractedly.
“Confer? What?”
“With who?” Vinnie asked, but Mason had gone, leaving behind empty space and the smell of ozone.
“Jesus. That’s rude as fuck.” Casey huffed. “Do you ever get tired of how he appears and disappears like that? And the riddles—what the fuck does ‘confer’ mean anyway?”
“It means he needs to talk with someone, but I have no idea who.” Her stomach twisted. “This whole thing gives me a bad feeling.”
“I’ve had a bad feeling from day one.”
There wasn’t much they could do. Mason was off to confer. Neoma had her emotional support, while her mother and Andy were in recovery mode. She and Casey only took up space.
“Come on,” she said after a minute and nodded toward the dining room. “Let’s see if anyone left some food.” She wasn’t particularly hungry, but it would give them something to do besides idly waiting.
And gods knew she needed some kind of distraction.
Casey
She stepped into the empty kitchen. Other than the red-haired witches, the girl she just met—what was her name again? Neoma?—and the brief Mason sighting, the house seemed deserted. Casey asked about it.
“Not everyone stays at the coven house. They’re more of a headquarters. Does that make sense? A place for everyone to gather and hang out and stay at sometimes. Some live here, but it’s just a gathering place. Wren, the High Priestess—she lives here part-time with her kids, but she mostly sticks to the London house. Kind of a back and forth thing.”
“Are there a lot of them? Coven houses?”
“Not here in New Ashton. Only this place. There’s the one in London, but that’s about it. For the, uh, Kindheart Coven anyway.” Vinnie shrugged and popped open a can of Dr. Pepper. “There are other covens though. All over the world. Some of them stay connected, even if they don’t get along. It’s like… all about family. Community.”
“Yeah. It’s like that with hunters too, but we don’t have meeting houses or shit like that.” And most of them hardly kept in contact. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d encountered another hunter. Casey grabbed a drink for herself. “I’m still processing the whole coven-witch-demon thing. And the town in general. What’s this Otherside? Andy made it sound like demon central.”
“Well, it kind of is. Mercy Avenue is sort of like their main street? I don’t know. I try to avoid it, but there are more demons and vampires around. They gravitate there. That’s how it’s always been, I guess. It’s all I’ve ever known so it’s not so weird for me.” Her smile turned apologetic. “That sounds really lame. Sorry.”
Casey ignored the apology and boosted herself onto one of the island stools. “Everything’s an adjustment. I know about weird, believe me, but this is an all-new level of shit.” She only wanted to find her father but at every turn, she sank more and more into the quicksand of the bizarre.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d drown here.
Vinnie joined her at the island, cradling her Dr. Pepper between her palms. She said nothing.
The following silence grew uncomfortable. It reminded her of those long days as a kid, cramped in some motel room. Her father would work away on a case, or else drink himself into a stupor. That quiet drove her crazy until she had to go outside. There she’d listen to birds tweet or the crickets chirp until sanity returned.
But she couldn’t walk away now. Where would she go?
Casey took a noisy sip to break the interminable silence. “I ain’t gonna stick around too much longer, so I doubt I’ll get all that used to it. After you do that spell, whether you find him or not, I’m gone.”
That’s if they ever did the spell at all. It kept getting pushed back, put aside for one crazy thing after another. Frustrating and scary and tiring—God, so tiring. She leaned against the island, running a hand through her hair, fingers snagging on a couple of knots. She blew out a breath and finally looked at Vinnie.
The redhead’s eyes were downcast. She stared at the counter and murmured into her can. “Almost seems like you’re already used to it. Or getting used to it.” She gave a small laugh, though it wasn’t funny. “Nothing like throwing yourself right into the middle of a mess to figure it out. What’s the s
aying? Sink or swim? You can’t give up and leave. Not yet.”
“Yeah. Dad always called it ‘trial by fire’. I dunno where people come up with that shit.” Her laugh burst out, forced and too loud.
Her dad used to do that too.
Casey let the feigned smile drop and glanced away. “I dunno. I don’t feel like I’m swimming very good. Sinking—fast.”
“I think we all feel like that, honestly,” Vinnie offered. “I feel like I’m sitting on the sidelines, not able to do much but wait. And I hate it.”
“Yeah. Not a fan either.”
“But,” Vinnie continued, turning in her seat to face Casey, “we can stay afloat together. There’s strength in numbers. We can do it together, right? Neither of us has to face it alone?”
As self-reliant and independent as she was, Casey didn’t like being alone. It was nice to have someone else to lean on. Given the situation, it was the best she could get. She turned to tell Vinnie as much when the kitchen door swung open. Neoma stepped through, brow furrowed. She moved with graceful ease, drawing attention right to her.
“Mason’s not here?” she asked, searching the kitchen.
“No.” Vinnie took another drink from her can. “He had to go confer about something. He didn’t leave details—as usual. Popped out about ten minutes ago.” She straightened and her blue eyes narrowed in concern. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”
“Yes. No.” Neoma shook her head. Her lips pressed together until they almost disappeared into a thin line. “There’s a man at the door.”
“What do you mean? What man?”
Neoma looked back at the door. “He feels… weird.”
“Weird? What? Weird how?” Neoma’s assertion sent alarm bells ringing in Casey’s head. “What do you mean he feels weird?”
An edge of frustration crept into Neoma’s voice. “Feeling what people feel is what I do. And I don’t feel anything from him.” Her gaze settled on Vinnie. “He may need help, but I don’t know what to make of him. This may be out of our wheelhouse.”
Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles Page 9