by Lenore Wolfe
TWELVE
CLAIRE
Claire waited for her sister, and her sister-friends, from where she sat in the kitchen when they came downstairs late the next morning. She’d been anticipating, for more than three hours, them waking soon, getting their butts up to come down for breakfast.
Her heart hammered. She’d come to a decision.
The twins showed first, so she asked them to do her a favor. She wanted to surprise the rest of them. The time had come to share what she knew. To get them to do the same with the stuff they knew. Each of them needed to get on the same page, be sure who they were going up against. Maybe, if they put their heads together—told each other what each of them knew—what each of them remembered—they could plan for what they should do next.
Right now, they may as well as be shooting blindly in the dark.
Footsteps tore her from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to see Morgan sniff the air as she came into the kitchen. Claire grinned. The smell of her grandmother’s spices was back. She’d made sure it felt as Morgan would remember.
Morgan eyed the twins, busy stirring something on the stove. She turned and frowned at Claire. Something crossed her face. A shadow cast across her eyes. “You’re making—potions?” she said.
Taking a deep calming breath, Claire nodded. Morgan remembered. But Claire decided to leave that one alone right now. “We’ll leave them to that. We have something else to do.” She took her sister’s hand and lifted the skeleton key on the end of a large tassel for her to see.
Morgan sucked in her breath. “The—attic key?”
Again, Claire nodded, her heart hammered hard now, so she could hardly breathe.
“Not without me, you’re not!” Alex growled from the doorway.
Claire and Morgan turned, laughing. Hand-in-hand, the sisters, headed for the stairs. At the top, they met up with Tara and Sophia.
Tara’s brow arched. “What are you two up to?” she asked, grinning at the two conspirators.
Claire considered the door that led to the attic, and Tara’s brow jumped up an inch.
Sophia frowned. “I thought it was sealed off,” she said.
Claire laughed nervously, going to the door and opening it. The passage was too narrow for more than one of them, so they took the stairs in single file, whispering, excited. When they were standing in front of the attic door, they stood on the landing eyeing each other. Finally, Claire turned and unlocked the door.
Morgan stared, wide-eyed, at the room around her. Her gaze went to the round oak table, which now stood to one side, then went to the round, Oriental rug, which sat in the center of the room near the shelves and the overstuffed chairs and the couch. She saw her take in the crystals Claire had set on the table—and the cauldron. She saw her gawk at the shelves full of books, jars, and dishes of stones and finally go from one to another of the three sets of windows, which sat in all four directions, turning in a circle so she could take it all in.
The windows faced out from the four directions of the house. Each held a large glass window, which was flanked by two smaller stained glass ones—with a design in the form of a Triquetra.
Claire watched her sister as Morgan gasped at the broken, plain glass one she’d told Claire she’d seen from the street, the day she’d arrived. The hole in the glass shaped more like a round hole that a rock would cause. Her gaze searched for and found the stone on the floor. She eyed Claire.
“What—did grandma Murcia have an affinity with that hit show—Charmed?” Sophia asked.
Tara giggled at that.
Claire laughed out loud, relieved. “I think every witch does, doesn’t she? That show made us feel a little less alone—even if they did glam it up.
Grinning, Morgan nodded. “They Hollywood everything. They take a lot of liberties with that too,” she said, laughing now, too. “But they needed to get their ratings somehow.”
Claire giggled now, too, at that. She took Morgan’s hand and led her over to some trunks lined beneath one of the windows. She knelt beside one of the largest trunks. This one had ornate tooling in the metal that held the leather in place. Claire waited for Morgan to join her on the floor. Alex stood guard—as if he expected the shadow to show up.
Morgan touched the decorative metal brackets that held the trunk, so Claire waited a moment.
Finally, she lifted the lid. Morgan sucked in her breath, and Claire carefully lifted out the beautiful candlesticks. They were black and held the same design of the Triquetra etched in them.
Claire lifted out a large bundle wrapped in leather. They both scrambled to their feet, and Claire set in on the table. When they opened it—there sat a rather large Book of Shadows—bearing the same ornate metal brackets and bearing a timeworn lock.
She looked up in time to see Tara’s mouth drop open in shock. Claire nodded. Tara’s mouth jumped up and down like a guppy, and Claire laughed through her tears.
Sophia giggled with glee and clapped her hands together. “I heard about this one,” she said. “But I thought it was a myth.”
Wide-eyed, Tara stared at it, shaking when could she finally tear her gaze away to look at Claire. “Have you opened it, yet?” Tara asked.
Claire had been waiting for her reaction, more than anyone else. She shook her head at this. “I’ve been too—shocked….”
Tara nodded, reaching out in apparent awe to touch the Book of Shadows.
Morgan stared from one to the other. “Am I missing something?”
Claire, Tara, and Sophia laughed as Alex stepped forward to touch the book with obvious reverence too. He seemed mesmerized.
Morgan stared after him. “Okay, someone needs to let me in on the secret….”
Tara laughed in excitement. “We were shown only one Book of Shadows,” she explained.
Sophia nodded emphatically. “Obviously, a newer one.”
Frowning, Claire also nodded, filing away Sophia’s obvious knowledge of both the attic and the newer Book of Shadows—but also the mystery of the older one. “Obviously, the newer one was put here to throw us off…,” she said with more than a little heat to her tone despite herself.
Morgan frowned now, too, at this, as Tara put her arm around her friend. “Our parents and grandparents seemed to have been keeping secrets,” she said.
Morgan shook her head, clearly confused. “But why?”
Moving forward, Sophia touched the book now, too. “I guess to protect us,” she murmured.
“From Dante,” Alex finished.
Morgan’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Claire touched the key around her neck. “I always wondered why Grams gave me this. The other night, when I found this, I knew why.” She’d just removed the key from around her neck and opened the lock—when something shimmered, then appeared.
Morgan yelled, “Look out!”
Her shout caused Alex to spin around—searching in the direction where she’d pointed, knocking over a small table and sending it crashing.
In the next moments, the Twins yelled while racing up the stairs below. Morgan reached into her pocket—yanking out the bottle Claire had given her the other night, at the same time Claire pulled one from hers….
This time, another voice stayed their hand.
Morgan yelped in surprise and dropped her potion. “Grams?”
Claire stepped up beside her. She didn’t have to see her, to know how stunned her sister must feel. She felt the same way. The twins had come up behind them by that time. She didn’t have to see them either, to know they wore the same stunned appearance as the rest of them.
Their grandmother, Murcia, laughed at the expressions on their faces.
Claire stared at her Grams. “Don’t ghosts usually take up the form of their bodies while they’re here on earth?”
Murcia nodded. “But sometimes they cannot come through strong enough. Then, the humans see only a wisp of their—shadow.” Claire couldn’t have stopped the anger that swept through her. Her grams
always did love surprises.
Their grandmother moved closer, and Claire felt the twins step back. Alex moved close to Morgan and placed his arm around her. His face held a look like he would refuse to budge.
“Surely you two have learned by now,” Murcia said, “there’s much more to the world around you than any of you know.”
Morgan swallowed. “But—you’re dead,” she stated the obvious.
Her Grams chuckled. “And what is death but the ability to release our physical bodies—the vessels we need to move about the earth. We release those so that we can return to our true selves.”
“Okay,” Claire nodded. “That makes sense—I guess. But why did you wait so long?”
Her Grams frowned. “I waited for all of you to returned here—where my life essence is strongest. It’s easier for me to anchor here—at least for a few moments….”
Claire nodded, again. Somehow that, too, made sense. She glanced at Morgan.
Her sister frowned.
“Everything is energy,” she told her. “Her energy was tied here—to this house—during her lifetime on earth….”
She saw her sister’s eyes clear as she grasped what their grandmother tried to tell them. Turning, she eyed their grandmother. “Well—then, while you are here, can you help us with the shadow?”
Morgan nodded. “If we don’t get rid of him—we can’t stay here—Grams.”
Her grandmother sighed. “That’s why I came here to talk to you. As you know, we have battled Dante for hundreds of years—and in that time, he killed six members of our family alone—many others, from other families.” Their Grams shook her hand in the air at this. “There was a prophecy that spoke of the Daughters of the Circle, who would bring forth the Goddesses—and the witches who could channel the power to bring them through, so they can join us on Mother Earth, once more. These witches would have the power to channel the Goddesses—and destroy Dante.
Morgan frowned. “I—don’t understand.”
But Claire smiled. “So, there is a way to destroy him.”
“Yes,” their Grams said, but only if these witches learn to channel their power—and allow the Goddesses to join with them.”
Claire stepped toward her in her frustration. “I’m sorry, Grams, but some things about your plan still don’t make sense. If we are meant to do this, then why did the coven keep us ignorant?” Claire frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t you let us prepare?” She threw her arms wide. “Why didn’t the coven show us how to use our magick—so we might stand a chance at beating him?”
“I did teach you, child,” her Grams said.
Claire frowned again, then grasped what her Grams just said. “By teaching me how to call the Daughters of the Circle.”
“I could not teach you openly—or let you join our little group. I’m sorry for that. We needed him to spend his energy searching for the answer to the riddle of the prophecy, which thanks to the merciful heavens has continued to escape him. We needed him to think you all held only a minuscule power, so he would think the real threat lay elsewhere.” She frowned. “He tracks magick. We wanted him to believe the magick died within us so that he wouldn’t see you as a threat. We built a web of protectors….”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open as she listened. She closed it—then opened it again—but no words of comprehension would come to her. “What are these Daughters of the Circle?” she finally squeaked.
Claire came over and put an arm around her sister as Alex let go. “The Goddess once held a prominent place amongst the people—but the Church drove Her from the lands.”
Morgan’s brows rose, her eyes were wide, but she only nodded.
Claire’s head jerked up at a sudden thought. “Grams—does he know we are the ones who are to call the Daughters of the Circle?”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Morgan whispered as Claire squeezed her shoulder.
Their Grams nodded. “That much he does know, which is why he would have still gotten around to trying to destroy you at some point. But he has no clue you are the witches the Goddess will join. When he learns of this, he’ll know how much of a threat your group is to him—and he will do all in his power to stop you.” Their Grams stepped closer. “But before he figures that much out—you will call the Daughters. He doesn’t know that you will call the Daughters—only that you will gather them.”
Claire frowned. “You taught me to gather them, Grams. What’s the difference?”
Her Grams shimmered. “Calling them requires a connection—a connection he doesn’t know you have.” She shook with her words. “When he figures that out…. Well, let’s just say, he cannot allow that. He’s worked too long to keep that from happening. He kept coming after our ancestors, each of our grandparents, each of our parents—just to keep the Daughters from being gathered.” She lifted her hands. “Imagine what he’d do to keep the Goddesses from being called.” She grew quiet now for the space of several long seconds. Finally, she spoke again. “He failed to keep the two of you from being born. He failed to keep you, Tara from being gathered to the Daughter—and you, Sophia….” She gave Sophia a quiet smile that caused Claire to frown once more.
“He has worked hard, but he couldn’t prevent all of you from coming to do what you were meant to do.” Her Grams shimmered once more, as she shook with her emotions, becoming lighter in color each time she did so. “He will do anything to prevent you from finding the rest of the Daughters of the Circle…,” she said.
Morgan’s head shot up. “Your web of protectors,” she said, “are they beasts?” Morgan said.
Their Grams nodded.
Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “The winged one,” she said, to no one in particular. “So—now—what is up with the one who chases him—what is up with that particular one?” Morgan said.
“Is that—beast—trying to protect us?” Claire voiced for her.
“Yes, he’s a gargoyle guardian—dear. They all are.” Their Grams smiled. “He is their leader. And—he has taken a—special—interest in protecting you.”
Claire frowned. She wasn’t sure exactly who her grandmother had meant—or if she’d just meant all of them. She didn’t know if she wanted to know either.
There was not a sound in the room, for the space of several seconds, at this proclamation. A grandfather clock ticked. Finally, their grandmother expanded on this. “He’s been with us for hundreds of years, trying to protect the Daughters. He leads the rest of them. They respect him. He’s been scaring away the shadow whenever Dante comes around to check on the two of you—to see if you have begun to use any powers.”
“I treated him horribly when I saw him as a child!” Morgan yelled. “I attacked him with the little I knew about magic…,” she breathed. “I completely freaked out.”
Alex took her hand into his. “You weren’t the only one who made the wrong assumptions,” he reminded her. “We all did.”
Claire nodded at this. She knew this was at the forefront of all their minds.
Murcia sighed. “I tried to protect you girls—but you were drawn to your powers anyway.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of spirits out there, child. With powers like the two of you possess—you were like a bright beacon to the spirit world despite our best efforts. The warlock—he’s your shadow as you now know.” She shook her finger at the two of them. “You threw open a door that day when you kids went out there to see what you could call out with that Ouija Board. Those boards are not a game. They’re not a toy. In the wrong hands—it’s like flinging open the front door and inviting in anything. You never know who, or what, you’ve invited into your home.”
Morgan sighed at this. “Yeah—we figured that out the hard way Grams,” she said with biting sarcasm. “We were out to find out who he was….”
Her Grams smiled gently. “Learning that—is one of the toughest lessons you can learn, child.” Her grandmother eyed her, her sister, and Alex—coming back to her. “We have allowed our fears to drive you f
rom your homes long enough—much like the town once tried to force us to leave because of their fears. The Gargoyles chases the shadow who follows our family, and since we didn’t teach you how to hide from him, you couldn’t begin to understand the way Dante hides in the shadows.”
Their Grams stopped—then said. “We have allowed you to live in ignorance, and now your fear of the unknown may cost you,” she said grimly. “But that ignorance has also kept you hidden. It’s protected you. He likely will come now, and soon, to destroy you, but he’s still ignorant of your true power. Your power to channel the Goddesses.”
She stopped to survey Morgan and Claire, then Tara and Sophia. “You each have her power, even without fully gathering the rest of the Daughters. Our plan has worked.” She nodded in approval. “He’s failed to see you as the real threat. Made obvious by the fact he hasn’t attacked you all yet. Since he’s been too preoccupied, looking for the powerful witches who’ve continued to elude him.
“He doesn’t see you as much of a threat,” their Grams continued, “only an irritation—since he thinks you will only gather the Daughters. You been even less significant to him because you all split up and went your separate ways.” She raised her eyes to the heavens. “But the time has come. Now, the remaining Daughters of the Circle shall soon be gathered as well. He will realize his mistake—and with it the true threat to him.” She nodded in approval again. “When he finally does—it will be too late. It will bring his downfall.”
Shaking her head, Claire stepped near her sister. “You guys never found any other way to take him down.” It wasn’t a question. All the stuff she’d read told her what she already knew. “You’re telling us that this is the only way….” She watched her Grams, as she shook her head. Shocked, Claire blanched. “Not even with that last potion entered into the Book of Shadows?”
“We didn’t get a chance to try that one,” her grandmother said. “That’s the one we worked up while we waited for you kids to grow up.”
Frustrated, Claire nodded. “So, we don’t know if it will work—but we don’t know that it won’t work either.”
Her Grams nodded, but then she frowned at Claire. “The power to destroy him—isn’t in the potions, child. “It’s within the four of you,” she said. “And in the remaining Daughters.” She faded out, then came back in. “I must go now. I have stayed too long already. Be well, my granddaughters. Blessed be.” And with that, she shimmered out.
Glancing at the others, Claire eyed Morgan. Her sister took a deep breath, apparently trying to absorb everything she’d just heard. There were tears in her eyes.
“Okay,” Morgan said. “Well, then, we need to start gathering everything we know, right?”
Claire nodded. “Already on that, Sis,” she said. With that, they took a seat around the huge round table, to go over all that they’d learned so far.
An hour later found them reading various books. As they read, Claire kept finding herself distracted by troubled thoughts of the Gargoyle. She kept turning over something Grams just told them. She’d already considered there may be many more Gargoyles out there—waiting. Now, her Grams had confirmed that. But why were they waiting?
She turned this over in her mind—once more losing her place on what she was supposed to be reading. Did it have something to do with gathering the Daughters of the Circle? And now they were expected to do something more than just gather them. She’d wondered about that before, more than once, too. The Daughters were gathering to bring back the Goddess to her rightful place on Mother Earth. Now, she knew they were to be counted amongst those Daughters gathered—not just doing the gathering.
And her Grams had said the Gargoyles acted as their protectors. Claire shook her head. This was too much responsibility for anyone to handle, she decided, more-or-less a handful of young women.
It was dangerous as hell.
How could they possibly be expected to do this? She didn’t even know what they were supposed to do.
Antsy, Claire wanted to get up and pace. She thought better when pacing—but glancing over at the other women, she knew she’d only worry them, and then they’d begin asking questions. Questions for which she had no answers. She didn’t want to get into all this with them. Not yet. She’d just open more questions than answers. The last thing they needed right now was more questions.
Too many things remained unanswered.
Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if somehow this was tied into the other things going on of late. And, if so, how could she continue to keep the others in the dark. That—and she knew that more than one of them had been keeping their own secrets….
Claire leaned back and pulled up her legs, trying to get comfortable. She glanced up in time to see Morgan give her a quizzical look.
See! She already had Morgan noticing her agitation. She needed to quit worrying, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—one that sat over her middle with the weight of a large stone, sitting in the pit of her stomach.
One that repeatedly warned her—they were in trouble. And they hadn’t begun to know—just how much….