Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles

by F. R. Southerland

  Vinnie

  It hit her in the stomach as certain as a punch—not that she’d ever been punched, but she could imagine. Andy even called it that. The ‘gut punch’. It signaled when intuition went into overdrive. What else could this knot in her belly be? It certainly wasn’t her usual brand of anxiety.

  Unease filled her and tension spread throughout her limbs. Her heart pounded.

  “Casey?” She rapped her knuckles lightly against the door. “Casey? Did you go back to sleep?”

  The cold doorknob pressed into her palm. Vinnie hesitated, then twisted and pushed the door open a tiny bit. The lamp beside the bed burned with feeble light, casting the room in semi-darkness. The rumpled covers were thrown back, revealing an empty bed and no Casey.

  Don’t panic. She’s probably in the bathroom. She might be in the shower.

  She glanced toward the open bathroom door. No light, shower quiet. Nothing.

  Casey was gone.

  Vinnie swallowed the lump in her throat. She went downstairs, she reasoned. Maybe she’d just missed her. Her eyes swept the room, seeking out little clues and details. Her backpack—she didn’t see her backpack. That cinched it. Casey had left. She was really gone.

  Don’t panic. There’s no need to panic.

  She moved quickly out of the room and back down the stairs. All eyes turned to her as she burst into the kitchen. “She’s gone. Casey—I think she left the house.” Her voice didn’t sound right. Too strained, too high.

  “Shit.” Andy pulled herself up straighter, blue eyes searching Vinnie’s.

  “Quiet.” Mason moved with preternatural quickness, startling Vinnie when he approached her. “You saw her this morning? Are you sure?”

  “Uh, yes. Right before I came down for breakfast.”

  “Then she cannot have gone far. We can find her easily enough.”

  “If she wants to be found.” Andy scoffed. “Given all that she’s been through? Maybe she needs a little space. A lot of space.”

  “I thought—I thought I was giving her space.”

  “Well, it’s bad fucking timing. And real stupid.”

  “Stupidity and youth go hand in hand.” Mara sighed softly. “It’s bad timing, yes, but the coven isn’t targeting her.”

  “I don’t know. They used her father to attack her—or did you not see the bruises on her neck?” Andy rolled her eyes.

  Vinnie pressed her lips together and looked between Andy and their mother. “That—”

  “That was a matter of circumstance,” Mara spoke over her. “They may well have attacked anyone at the door. Casey, Neoma, you.”

  It did nothing to reassure her. “So you’re saying she’s not in danger? But she may not have left town. She could still be out there!”

  “We’re all in some kind of danger, right? No one is safe. Even behind protected walls,” Andy pointed out. When she earned a sharp look from her mother, she shrugged and held up her hands. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Mason gave her a look as well. “You are not wrong, but I do not believe Casey is in any immediate danger. The target has been well-established.”

  “Me.” Andy laughed harshly.

  “A witch,” Mara corrected tersely. “Any witch.”

  “Right. Magical blood only. Got it. Not the usual just-a-normal-human sacrifice. And I’m right at the top of the list.”

  Vinnie sank into a chair. “Okay, but none of this changes the fact that she’s out there. We should go after her. She’s—she just—she’s been through so much.”

  “I know you’re worried, sweetie. We all are,” Mara said. “Give her another hour or two then we’ll search for her, okay? Give her the space she needs right now.”

  Whether it was okay or not didn’t particularly matter. That settled it. Vinnie frowned and turned her head away. “All right,” she muttered.

  Mara smiled and helped herself to another donut. “I think the best thing we can do right now is jump headfirst into preparing our defense. The sooner we uncover what the Hallowed Circle is doing, the sooner we can all rest easy.”

  “Yes. There is work to be done.” Mason turned to Mara. “I will continue my efforts to break through the Hallowed Circle’s barriers in London—”

  “—if that’s even where they are,” Andy broke in.

  “—the three of you should work on the barriers here.”

  “That’s first on the list,” Mara assured him. “Go. We’ll hold down the fort. If Casey isn’t back in a few hours though, we’ll be searching for her.”

  He nodded in parting and then teleported away.

  “Well, I guess that’s that.” Andy pushed the hair from her face and sat up. “We better get started. No time to waste.”

  “Guess so,” Vinnie said, unconvincingly. She couldn’t even muster up a smile. She wasn’t feeling particularly optimistic at the moment.

  “We’ll meet in the morning room. We can use the sun to our advantage,” Mara decided and she led the way from the kitchen. After sharing a look with her sister, Andy followed. Vinnie lingered half a second longer before she joined them.

  Protection spells weren’t her forte. No matter how much practice she put into it, she never could pull off the big defensive spells. Potions, herbology—Vinnie could mix with the best of them. This barrier thing was a little out of her comfort zone, but she wanted to help.

  Vinnie’s worries settled in the bottom of her stomach. A part of her wanted to go after Casey, heedless of what the others thought, but what would that even do? Did she expect to convince her to come back, just like that? She wasn’t the persuasive sister and she sure as hell couldn’t use magic to change her mind.

  She didn’t want her to leave, not like this.

  Gods, she felt sick.

  Vinnie took a seat, cross-legged in the circle with her mother and sister. Her paltry magic wouldn’t be enough, but here she sat. She took a deep breath and exhaled, following Mara’s lead. She closed her eyes and sought to find her center, her inner calm. She would need it.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Andy bearing down on her with a fierce stare. “What?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?” Had she done something wrong already?

  Andy took in a deep breath, exaggerating the inhale by lifting her shoulders high. She dramatically dropped them on the heavy exhale. She did it again, louder.

  Vinnie’s face burned. “Sorry. I didn’t think—I didn’t mean to make noise. I was just trying to ground myself.”

  “Ground yourself more quietly, then. I’m trying to fucking concentrate.” Energy crackled around Andy. Her fingertips sparked.

  “Girls.”

  “Sorry,” Vinnie muttered.

  Andy ignored her mother’s warning and delivered another poison-barbed look at Vinnie. “I can’t do this. I can’t concentrate.”

  “I said I was sorry. I’m just sitting here. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Yeah. And that’s a problem too.” Andy unfolded her legs and ran both hands through her hair. “It’s not helping, you just fucking sitting there. Grounding yourself.”

  Ow.

  Vinnie scooted back, out of the circle. Andy had said hurtful things before but this really stung. Tears blurred her vision and she tried to blink them back before they fell.

  “Girls—that’s enough! Stop your bickering.” The green of Mara’s eyes stood out more in her anger. They flashed like emerald fire now as she looked between them. “We are all tired and under pressure, but we do not turn on each other. This is a protection spell—we need positive intent. Every bit helps. Even grounding. So both of you… shut it!”

  Vinnie ducked her head, immediately chastised. “Okay,” she murmured. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and scooted back into position. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Andy sighed. “All right. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

 
“Good.” Mara held out her hands, positioning them as she had before. Her eyes slid closed. Her hair rose a few inches as kinetic energy spindled and rose. Andy’s lips parted as the power came to life between her hands. Goosebumps dotted across Vinnie’s arms and she shuddered.

  Their magic separately was indeed powerful. Collectively, it became staggering. Andy’s purple light mixed with Mara’s paler blue, and Vinnie’s—a gentle green—swirled within the mix. Her contribution may not have been much, she thought, but every bit helped.

  The colors never muddied but stayed true and bright. Where they touched, a white light formed. For once Vinnie surrendered to the sensation of power washing through her. It was like a warm kiss, a tight hug, a snuggle within fresh-out-of-the-dryer blankets. It was warm sunshine, and beautiful girls who smiled at her, and snow days. She floated in her soul. She took a deep breath and the magic entered her lungs. It sustained her, it fueled her, it made her alive.

  With their combined power, they strengthened the wards in no time. When the power expelled, Vinnie closed her eyes and gave in completely to it. Her heart jumped to her throat. Her stomach flopped.

  As the power left her, it took something—and not only her breath. The sensation disoriented her, filled her head with humming, but Vinnie held on. When the power ebbed, she could breathe again. The tension left her shoulders and when she leaned back, calm and relaxation flooded over her. She even smiled a little.

  That was… something.

  “When we recharge, we should do this for the shop too,” she suggested, a soft satisfied cadence in her voice. Contentment. She had never touched power like that before and it felt good.

  Incredibly good.

  And it wasn’t enough that they protected the coven house—they should think wider. “Maybe Andy’s apartment. What do you think, Mom?”

  Mara didn’t answer.

  “Mom?”

  Mara sat motionlessly, arms still poised before her. Her eyes had gone milky-white, her mouth open.

  The blood drained from Vinnie’s face and settled somewhere in her torso. Her limbs were heavy as she moved toward her. “Andy? Help me get her back.” She could try the same calming spell she’d done for her sister, but she couldn’t guarantee its success. “Andy, help me.” She turned to her.

  But Andy was on her back, eyes wide and white, staring at the ceiling, caught in the throes of the vision too.

  “Oh, gods. Oh, gods.” Bad. So bad. Worse than the earthquake, worse than a revenant at the door. Worse than anything she could remember. Panic hit her hard. She fumbled as she reached for her phone. Mason. Neoma. She had to call someone. Anyone.

  She needed help and she needed it now.

  Casey

  The sunlight streamed down. Though only mid-morning, it was hot and bound to get hotter. Summer weather in May. The high humidity had Casey already sweating in her hoodie. The weight of her backpack dragged her down. Her steps were sluggish.

  Still, she plodded on. There was no reason to stay. She no longer needed the witches’ help. After all, she’d found her father. And for what? He was dead. A revenant.

  Whatever that meant. It didn’t do her any good.

  Casey blew out a breath. Cool air drifted out from the convenience store’s propped open door. The air conditioner buzzed loudly when she stepped in, but she ignored it, completely focused on what she needed to do. She would need supplies but she had only a little money. It might be enough for a bus ride to the nearest town and a bit beyond that, but nothing more. She’d have to take the five-finger discount, though she hated it. Guilt coiled in her chest, tightening around her heart, but Casey tried to push it aside. She’d need drinks, food, and she’d hit up a hardware store for a few other supplies. Then she could get the hell out of this town.

  Guilt of another kind pressed against her throat. She should’ve left a note for Vinnie. She could’ve at least said goodbye. She’d been nice to her. She’d cared.

  Damn it.

  Casey blinked a few times and stared at her reflection in the cooler doors. Within the shadows of her pulled-up hood, she could see the ugly bruises on her throat.

  That’s not your father. He’s dead.

  The words echoed over the hum of the overhead lights. He was her father. She’d looked right at him, knew him. Yet her father would’ve never hurt her. Even at his worst with the drinking, he never laid a hand on her.

  Fuck. She needed to let this go.

  She came back to reality and glanced behind her. The old man who ran the place stood behind the counter, head down. He pressed numbers into the register, painstakingly ringing up each item for his impatient customer. A good enough distraction, she decided.

  She grabbed a couple of cans of Red Bull, some bottles of water, and shoved them into the open zipper of her backpack. She was down the next aisle a minute later. Her heart thudded against her chest. She grabbed snacks left and right, put them in her bag, and zipped it up.

  She didn’t look back. No one shouted at her. Nobody stopped her. She was in the clear, but Casey didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she made it well across the street and down the sidewalk.

  A vice tightened her chest. Her breath came out shallow and quick. She leaned against the brick wall of the alley and closed her eyes. It wasn’t just her crimes that spiked her anxiety. She’d made her choice. Leaving town was the right move. She had to move on. A dead father. She had nothing left, no reason to stay, not even for Vinnie.

  Frustration coiled in her chest, replacing fear and anxiety. She wanted to hit the wall. Scream. Throw something. Instead, she shoved away from the wall and walked quickly away.

  Fuck it.

  The sun cast long shadows as she walked. Sweat dotted across her forehead before long. She pulled her hood down and stopped when she reached the next street. Where the hell could she find a bus schedule in this town?

  Something glinted and glared right into her eyes. Casey squinted and turned her head. Ugh, it was too bright today.

  She saw him. The revenant. Her father.

  He moved with a slow gait like each step pained him. The motions were almost robotic. Stiff. He didn’t move like her father. He barely even looked like him.

  That’s not your father.

  Her heart leapt into her throat again. But it was. It was!

  He continued down the street, sunlight catching the blond on his bowed head. Then he lifted his head and looked right at her. His eyes caught hers, blue and clear. Normal.

  “Dad?” The wind caught her weak voice and carried it off. “Dad!”

  Did he recognize her? She hoped. She prayed.

  He continued on.

  Her feet moved before she realized it. She didn’t heed to the traffic and a car honked at her as she crossed the street. She didn’t care. Her father—she had to get to him. Then he rounded a corner and she lost sight of him. No, no. She hopped up quickly onto the sidewalk, almost stumbling in her haste to pursue.

  “Dad! Wait!”

  When she turned the corner a few moments later, he wasn’t there.

  No, she couldn’t have imagined it. She saw him! He’d been right there! Fuck. Fuck! What if it had been a trick? Some sort of witch’s trick? She cursed under her breath and scrubbed a hand over her face. Tears blurred her vision. She’d had him!

  No. No! Why? Goddamn it! She’d been so close. Casey shook her head, turned her face toward the sky, and tried to steady her shallow breaths.

  And there he stood, on the other side of the street. Her heart jumped again.

  “Dad? Please, don’t go. Wait!”

  Where the hell were they? For the first time, Casey looked around. She didn’t recognize the area. The Otherside? Certainly creepy enough, even in broad daylight. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

  An old Catholic church loomed across the street. A large building, she noticed, but the grounds around it had overgrown with tall grass and weeds. It didn’t look like it had been used for a long time. The concrete steps lead of
f from the sidewalk, broken and crumbling, but Patrick took them with no problem. He slipped inside the weathered-wood door and left it ajar.

  Casey hesitated, but only for a second. If this was the Otherside Andy had warned her about, it didn’t matter. She had to do this.

  Rusty hinges barely held the door up. The broken stained-glass windows offered nothing but darkness inside. The scent of stale air, of dust and mildew struck her as familiar. All the old houses she’d squatted in over the years, all the haunted places she’d hunted in—they’d all smelled like this.

  The scent grew stronger the further she entered. The brightness dimmed, the light from the stained-glass spilling red and blue across the dusty floorboards. Her father’s footprints made a path. Casey followed it.

  He knelt before the altar. More footprints and lines marked the dust surrounding him. Casey slowed her steps and held her breath. Her fingers grazed against the arm of an old pew, askew from the row. It blocked her path so that she had to step around and she did so cautiously.

  “Dad?” she whispered.

  With his head bowed, he seemed as if deep in prayer, but Patrick Jennings had never been a religious man. No, he wasn’t pious. He wasn’t praying.

  Casey went cold when she edged forward and finally saw the space before the altar. Someone had drawn a large circle on the floor. No. Not drawn. Burned, branded, blackened directly into the floorboards. A circle with symbols around the circumference. She didn’t recognize a single one.

  It looked like a summoning circle.

  “Dad?” Her voice trembled.

  He lifted his head but did not turn. “We’d hoped to see you again.” The voice that came from his lips sounded nothing like him. It resonated with something unnatural.

  That’s not your father.

  A knife with a shiny black hilt caught the light and glinted menacingly. He turned it in his hand.

  “Your father died a long time ago, love. He’s not here. And he’s not coming back.”

  The words hit her hard, as if weighted and physical. “No.”

  “Yes. The sooner you understand this, the better.” The eyes that looked at her were not unkind, but they were not her father’s. There was someone else behind them.