“This isn’t the same situation.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t take threats. Never have. Never will.” Her heart pounded, blood rushing fast through her veins. She curled her fingers into a fist, then loosened them. She had to stop them.
Somehow.
Doubt crept in and Andy sank onto the edge of her bed. “Call Mason,” she repeated. “I want to talk to him.”
Mara sighed, nodded. “All right. Keep an eye on him.”
“Ha, yeah. I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
The door clicked softly after Mara left. Andy fixed her eyes on Patrick. His eyes were open, but empty and glazed, the blue of them washed out. Awake, he seemed lost without the coven’s power.
Why were They doing this? The summonings, the raising of revenants, the strange surges of power, and now the attempt on her life. For what? Patrick had given them all the information he could but, there were still questions.
His eyes were on her, clear and full of clarity now. For a second, Andy thought she saw the man he used to be, once, when alive. A handsome man, a father, a man with a purpose.
“I’m sorry. For everything,” he said, in his weary, strained voice. He hung his head.
Andy’s exhaustion and annoyance vanished, replaced with pity for him. “Oh, don’t—don’t say that. None of it is your fault. They’re controlling you. Your actions—they aren’t your own.”
“Still.” His shoulders sagged. “It bugs me. Deep down.” Patrick laughed—the sound like a hoarse bark. “In my soul—if I even have one any more.” His smile was grim. “I know I’m dead. I know when this is over, I’ll be gone. And Casey—”
“Casey’s strong.”
“She is. Always has been. I didn’t even know she was here, and now she’s gonna see me die. No child oughta see her father die. Not like this.”
Andy cut her eyes to the side and pulled her arms around herself. The dark alley had been cold and wet, with the smell of rain in the air. Her father choked on his blood from the force that crushed his insides, while voices chanted around them. They tried to take her, while she screamed and fought and watched the light leave his eyes.
“No. No one should have to suffer that,” she whispered.
She glanced down at her wrist. She well remembered her flesh burning as Bernice forced the Hallowed Circle’s mark into her skin. Andy remembered, too, how it hurt a few years later when she put flame to it herself and seared it away. And the pain of the tattoo needle that etched the tree of life into her skin to cover the ugly reminder—that hurt too. But those pains were nothing compared to watching her father die. His body on the ground, with the blood pooling from his mouth, his eyes, his ears, his nose—gods, she’d never unsee it.
Andy shook her head to clear away the memory.
“You made the right call,” Patrick said, after a few seconds. “It ain’t right for her to see me like this. It ain’t right to be this.”
She’d felt bad, at first, when they agreed that seeing Patrick would only confuse Casey. The disappointment and hurt on his face had struck her hard. But they had to do what was best for Casey and everyone in the long run. The girl hadn’t taken the news well. Too much to process so soon, Andy knew.
“Casey will be fine. She’s tough as nails. A survivor.” She blew out a breath and pushed the hair from her face. “When did you die?” Honestly, she should’ve turned the topic to something far away from that, but curiosity held her. And maybe something in his answer would be a clue. Maybe it would be helpful.
Patrick furrowed his brow. “I—don’t remember. My memory is… shit. There are times when I know I’ve been somewhere. There’ll be dirt on my hands. Or blood.” He swallowed. “But I won’t have any idea where They made me go, or what They had me do. What I do know—I already told your father.”
“Mason? He’s not my father.” The closest thing to one she had now, but no. “Godfather.” She waved it off. “So you can’t remember when this all started? How far back?”
“If I had to put a time frame on it?” Patrick inclined his head back. “Years. Four or five.”
That checked out with what Casey told them. Had they been raising power for that long? Dread filled her. She glanced away, just for a second, toward the door. Where was her mother? What was taking her so long? She had to hear this too.
Then she went airborne, her entire body thrown back as if it weighed nothing. Her head collided with the wall. Pain flashed yellow, red, and her cry of pain became lost in a crash. When she tried to right herself, spots danced in her vision.
It happened so fast. She hadn’t sensed the power. There had been no tell-tale sign of magic, no red tint, nothing—but now it flooded the room and filled her senses.
Andy gasped, fingers clawing at the carpet. Some sort of weight pressed her down to the floor. She couldn’t breathe. Pressure crushed her lungs.
She managed to lift her head. Patrick—no, not Patrick—They stood over her. The ceremonial knife flashed in hand. When They began to speak the words, Andy scrambled to get away, but she couldn’t.
“Hecate, We offer this one in supplication. Blood of your blood, We give this one to you.”
It wasn’t until the words reverberated around her a second time that panic filled her. She knew those words. She had heard them before. She had spoken the words, too, just before she sliced her boyfriend’s throat and ended his life.
Blood. Always blood. But this time, it was her blood. Her sacrifice. She had no time to think why, or how, or to what end. She had to survive.
A cruel smirk pulled across the revenant’s face—a smirk that seemed way too familiar. Her blood ran cold. Andy tried to take in air, but her lungs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.
Oh, she was so much stronger than this. She could fight this. She needed to fight this. Where was her voice? Where were her spells? It couldn’t end this way. She wouldn’t let it.
Her vision went black around the edges, but she kept her head up. They grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck.
She glared defiantly. No fear. She wouldn’t show it. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Only silence. But silence had a power, a power she’d grown through the years. Words weren’t needed. Only her will.
Andy narrowed her eyes and she pushed out with her telekinesis.
They slid back only a few inches. Enough to give her more ground, to relax the magical grip on her but would it be enough to save her? Her hair ripped as They pulled tighter. The blade glinted when They lifted it.
Andy pushed again and the blade clattered to the floor. They struck her with a backhand across her face. Blood welled in her mouth. She swallowed. She wouldn’t give her blood, not even this little bit. She toppled over to the floor. Her mobility had returned, but she struggled to stand, struggled to breathe.
They dove for the knife. Fingers closed tightly around it.
Then the revenant hit the floor, writhing and twisting. Mara stood in the doorway again. Her mouth moved, the words of the spell rising from her lips. “Nothing you’ll gain but pain for pain!” Her voice vibrated with power.
“Enough!” They bellowed. Mara grasped the door frame when the force almost knocked her back. Her words came faster, louder. The dagger flew from the revenant’s hand and hit the wall, burying itself three inches into drywall.
Andy, still trapped on the floor, joined Mara’s chant. Voices rose in unison. “Nothing you’ll gain but pain for pain! Nothing you’ll gain but pain for pain!”
“Enough!” Red magic swirled and darkened. It consumed the revenant, starting with the ankles. The last thing Andy saw was the blue of the revenant’s eyes slowly turning black.
They were gone. Vanished. The scent of freshly charged ozone filled the air and burnt amber soon followed.
“Andy—Andy? Are you okay?”
Andy shook her head. “No. I mean—I’m okay. Second save of the night, Mom. You’re on a roll.” She let out a b
reath. “I didn’t see it coming.”
They both looked toward the dagger embedded in the wall. Mara pursed her lips. “I didn’t either,” she stated. “I don’t think any of us could.”
And that didn’t bode well for them.
Andy
The Next Morning
Her cold touch bit into her flesh. Andy flinched and tried to draw away but Bernice held her fast.
“Finish it,” she hissed.
“No. I won’t. I won’t do it!”
Bernice dug in her fingernails. Andy winced. “Finish it!”
“No!”
“Andy!”
She tightened her eyes shut. She could still see the blood dripping, the pool growing. The wood grain beneath his body soaked it up. The dagger gleamed.
“Andy!”
She opened her eyes and stared at her mother, at her sister, who both wore identical expressions of worry. Mason gave no response, staring across with a faraway gaze.
“Are you with us now?” Mara asked.
Andy managed a half-smile and shrugged. “I am. Now. Just… tired.” Always tired. The whirlwind of the past few days left her drained of emotion and powers. The first time she’d tried to sleep, visions and nightmares reigned. The second time, the Hallowed Circle tried to kill her. The lack of sleep tacked on top of that doubled, tripled her exhaustion. No wonder she’d spaced out.
And a vision of the past? It could’ve been nothing more than a memory caught up in her anxiety, but Andy knew better. She didn’t get them often and when she did, nothing good came from it. They had enough on their plates; she’d keep this one to herself. She sat back in her seat, smiled apologetically, and waved a hand. “Sorry. Ignore me. Go on.”
“I was just asking… why your blood?” Vinnie asked.
“Why anyone’s blood?” Andy scoffed. “It’s always blood. Can we please get that out of here? We don’t need a ceremonial blood-dagger on the breakfast table, do we?”
Vinnie mirrored her disgust with the curling of her upper lip. She drew back. “Yeah, can we get rid of it? It’s creepy…”
Mason said nothing but stepped forward. He stretched out his hand to take the dagger, but it vanished before he touched it. He pulled his hand back, his surprise registering with a few rapid blinks.
Andy swallowed the lump in her throat. “Let me guess… you didn’t do that?”
“Correct. I did not send it away,” he confirmed.
Vinnie’s eyes widened. She looked to Andy in alarm, sitting up straighter in her seat. “What? Where did it go?”
Andy stared at the now-empty space, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. “Back to the coven where it belongs, I imagine.” She couldn’t be too surprised by that. Just another problem to add to the ever-growing list. She closed her eyes and rubbed tiredly at her face. “Fuck.”
“Yes. The dagger has been called to its home, wherever that may be.” Mason sighed. “The blood of a strong witch—it is a powerful thing. A powerful sacrifice. I have no doubt we will see the blade again before this is over.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s not buried in my throat when we do,” Andy said dryly.
With certainty, they knew the Hallowed Circle Coven was behind this entire thing, now they only had to pinpoint the particular witch. They had it narrowed down to the usual suspects. Tobias and Bernice, former coven leaders, topped the list, followed by lesser Priests and Priestesses—sour Salvadore included. They were the most powerful witches in the Hallowed Circle Coven, but any one of them could raise a revenant, could channel power, and mask its origin. Hell, for all they knew, it could be the lot of them, but Andy had never known the coven to work together in harmony for so long.
It had been twelve years. A lot of things may have changed since then. What did she know?
Too much and too little, she thought sullenly.
Mason with all his knowledge, power, and experience had been unable to track the revenant. They still had no idea what the coven planned and any effort to penetrate the coven’s headquarters in London failed. They had strong protection spells and even more powerful wards. All they had was speculation and palpable frustration. No wonder breakfast was a tense affair.
Andy didn’t have much of an appetite, for once, but she forced down half a donut. The rest of it she’d torn apart and the bits littered the plate in front of her.
Vinnie hesitated but took another donut from the striped box. “Maybe it’s nothing personal. Maybe it’s just power. Andy has a lot of it.”
“Yes. And I would know.” Mason passed her a grim smile. “I stole magic from witches and I did so without any personal entanglements. Andy is a perfect target.”
“Aw, Mason. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” she answered, not skipping a sarcastic beat. Andy made a face but didn’t dispute it. Mason would’ve loved to take her power, back in the day. But that was ancient history.
“It is personal, from what I gathered.” She sucked in a deep breath. “They know us. They know me. And I did betray them.”
Like father, like daughter.
“Be that as it may,” Mason continued, “There is a purpose to their actions. They would not use a ceremonial dagger if they only wanted your life. Any weapon would suit that purpose. They want your blood and they want your power.”
“Yeah.” Andy pushed her plate away. “My life means nothing. Just blood and power. Mm, yeah. That fits their M.O.”
Color rose in Vinnie’s cheeks. “That’s not true…” But she trailed off, leaving her sentence—and donut— unfinished.
“That’s not true,” Mara continued, “not for us. But the coven wants blood. Ending your life would give them that.” She pushed the hair out of her face. “A means to an end. Of course, that’s not the only way.” Their mother’s exhaustion showed this time with her usually composed facade cracked from worry. Her face paled, leaving her freckles in stark contrast.
“The next time they try to slit my throat, I’ll ask real nice if they’ll take a donation instead. Throw a fucking blood bag in their face, and a half a dozen spells too. If they want my magic, I’ll give it to them.” But it wouldn’t be in the way they’d want it. Andy folded her arms beneath her breasts and scrutinized her mother. “When’s the last time you slept? You’re not making sense.”
“Oh, I caught a few winks when you were resting, but not enough. This isn’t the first sleepless night I’ve had, and certainly won’t be the last.” Mara sighed. “I mean, if they want your blood and your power, they will find ways to take them. Those ways may not mean your death.”
Andy hated to think that, but she couldn’t deny the truth in the words. She inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I’m aware but I can’t help but feel this is an ‘all-or-nothing’ situation.” She cut her eyes to her mother’s face. “Thinking the coven won’t take my life when they get the opportunity… Seriously—You need sleep.”
“We all do. I believe Casey’s the only one of us who’s rested at all. And Neoma, but she took a potion for that. No rest for the witches.” She glanced toward Vinnie, brow puckered. “Is she still asleep?”
“Casey, you mean?” Vinnie blinked a few times. “She was awake when I got ready to come down. I thought she’d be down by now but maybe she went back to sleep? How she could sleep with all this going on, I’ll never know. She didn’t take one of Neoma’s empathy-numbing sleepy potions did she?”
Maybe Casey was one of those lucky few who fell asleep without much effort. Andy would love to have such an escape.
“No, she didn’t,” Mara answered. “She didn’t take a healing potion either, though I insisted.” She shook her head. “We should save some food for them, whenever they get up.” She began to put aside a few of the donuts in another pastry box. She grabbed some of the jellies—Neoma’s favorites. “Do you know what kind Casey likes? Her favorites?”
“I don’t, but she seemed to like the jelly ones too. Just save one of each. Can’t go wrong that way.” She paused, glancing back to th
e door. “I’m going to check on her.” She wiped crumbs off her shirt and stood. “Back in a few.”
“Take your time.” Mara licked donut frosting off her fingertip. “In light of everything going on, I’m closing the shop today. We should focus all our energy on this.”
“A rare day off. Cool.”
“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Andy murmured.
The door closed behind Vinnie and Mara continued. “I’ve made a few calls. Wren. She agreed to fortify the defenses around the Kindheart house in London. I agreed to do this one. The idea is to stop any Hallowed Circle member from returning. On the off chance that it’s not personal, we don’t want other witches targeted. I’d rather not see any more ceremonial daggers in this place. Better safe than sorry.”
“So I’m safe as long as I stay inside?” Andy laughed. “Great. I’m a prisoner.”
“Don’t look at it like imprisonment. It’s for your protection.”
“Different words for the same thing.”
“It does not matter,” Mason cut in. “Your mother is correct—any precaution we take is important.”
“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
She knew her mother’s words were meant to be comforting, but they weren’t. What could she say? Every response she considered sounded disheartening in her head.
Yes, she knew, but she was tired. It was hard to be optimistic and view things objectively—especially when the Hallowed Circle Coven so clearly targeted her. Being cooped up inside the coven house was not her style. She didn’t hide. She fought. Andy Foster was no coward.
Best not to argue about it though. She wouldn’t win this fight. She should save her strength for a fight she could win. She slumped back in her seat and gave a hefty sigh.
“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles Page 12