“Then why didn’t Dad come with us? You could have protected—”
“He was the cursed one, just like you. Only, he didn’t have the luxury you did,” Mom says, cutting me off.
“Luxury? You call dying a luxury?” I spit.
“Call it what you will, then. Loophole. Whatever. Your father knew the only way to stop the Moirai was to find a way to break the curse. So, that’s what we did. Both of us have spent the better part of a decade hunting for information. Searching the ends of reality for a way to stop whatever fate may come our way. Clearly, it wasn’t enough,” she whispers. Tears tumble from her cheeks and she turns away from me, wiping at her face.
“Autumn’s dad left her a small decorative box in the will. The executor didn’t seem to know what it was, just that she was meant to have it. Do you know what it’s for?” Wade asks, obviously thinking more clearly than either of us.
Mom turns back, her face full of confusion. “A box? No. What does it look like?”
“I can go grab it. We brought it with us,” Wade offers, making his way to the front door.
The two of us stand in silence, staring at each other as if it’s the first time we’ve really ever seen one another for who we are. Maybe it is.
After a moment, Wade comes back in, carrying a backpack and pulling two suitcases. He leaves the suitcases beside the stairs, but makes his way back to us with the backpack over his shoulder. When he reaches the table, he shrugs it off and opens it wide.
“Here, Autumn,” he says, handing the box to me.
I clutch the wooden artifact close, pressing my fingertips against the rounded edges of the carvings. When I look up into Mom’s curious face, I extend my arms and place the box in her hands.
She looks at it closely, twisting and turning the box from one way to the next, until she’s looked the whole thing over. “I’ve never seen this before, but it’s incredibly powerful. The sigils on here alone…”
“That’s what Abigail said,” I mutter, fighting the urge to be sick. The nausea and anxiety swirl from my stomach, up to my throat, making me feel both dizzy and queasy at the same time. “That it was powerful.”
Her eyes dart up to meet mine. “You speak to Abigail?”
I nod, refusing to go into more details with her right now. “What are the sigils?”
She blinks away her surprise, returning her gaze to the box. “See here?” Tipping the box so I can look at the corners, she taps her finger on one particular symbol. Enclosed in a circle, it looks like a model of the solar system in stick-figure form. “This one is a sigil for protection. But what it’s protecting, I’m not sure.”
Apprehension and fear consume my thoughts, and I can’t help but worry about the reasons behind willing the box to me.
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” I blurt out, looking at it with fresh wariness.
She continues to rotate the box in her hands. “I’m not certain. I’d have to research some of the writing. It’s old.”
Inhaling deeply, I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick again. The information coming at me is too much and I need to find a way to control my anxiety in peace.
“You know, I’m not feeling…” I begin, trying to breathe through a new wave of nausea. “I think I need a few minutes to clear my head.” Without waiting for either of them to respond, I make my way from the kitchen, walking down the hallway toward the bathroom.
I press my right hand along the wall, trying to keep myself upright as I close the door behind me. Looking in the mirror, I’m horrified at my complexion. My skin is waxy, and my eyes have lost their usual luster.
Before I can admonish myself any further, I run over to the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach. When it’s all over and I’m dry-heaving, I lean back, resting my head against the cool wall. My eyes drift to the nearly empty toilet roll and out of reflex, I reach forward, opening the cupboard under the sink. I grab the toilet paper, but my eyes rest on the feminine hygiene products sitting beside it. They were mine from before I moved—remnants of my time here.
I wipe the side of my mouth, my hand sliding from there to my abdomen. I don’t remember the last time I had my period. Things have been an intense blur these past few weeks, but the last time I remember dealing with it was just after Halloween. Surely, I should have had it by now?
My mom’s question from earlier comes flooding back and a fresh wave of nausea makes me return to the toilet bowl and heave.
This can’t be happening… Not now, not with everything going on.
I can’t be…pregnant. Can I?
Chapter 9
Out in the Open
I don’t even know why I tried to sleep.
It’s almost laughable, if I wasn’t on the verge of breaking down completely. My entire world is splitting apart and even if I found solid ground, there’s no guarantee it would hold.
No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of being pregnant. And even when I do manage to drift for a split second, or lapse on this new obsession, my thoughts snap right back to my mom.
How in the hell could she be a supernatural? And not just any supernatural, either—one that’s been around so long she was considered a goddess before we understood that some people were…different.
What does that mean? What powers does she truly have? We barely had time to get into it, but I don’t think I could have taken on any more right now. My whole life—everything I thought I knew about my family, my mom—it was all a lie.
I’m not sure I know how to deal with that.
In fact, I don’t get any of it. If she’s been around as long as she implied, why would she give everything up to pretend she was human? The things she’s seen—the places she’s been. If that were me, I don’t know that I could give it up so easily. Even if I wanted to protect my child.
The concept is just too foreign.
I roll over, trying not to wake up Wade. I haven’t found a way to voice my suspicions about my sickness, and I don’t want to worry him if it’s really just anxiety. Yet, even as I think that, I know better. There’s a strange, horrifying realization settling into the back of my mind—maybe my gut—that tells me I need to be sure.
But if it’s true, it couldn’t be worse timing. The last thing either of us needs is to bring a child into the mix of a family curse brought on by the Fates.
My heartbeat quickens and I have to take slow deliberate breaths to settle my shallow, rapid inhalations.
If I am pregnant, what will happen to the child? Wade might be expelled from the Angel of Death legacy, but would his child? Would it skip his generation and simply fall onto our offspring? And if so—what would that mean to the Moirai? Would that connection protect him or her? Or would they still claim that child as a Blackwood? If they did end our child’s life, would that mean the human life has been forfeit but the baby still gets to ascend as an angel? Or would both of our bloodlines die out?
The possibilities make my stomach roll and I fight the urge to sit up in bed or race to the bathroom. I spend the next few hours, drifting in and out of an uncomfortable, restless sleep.
By the time morning comes, I barely feel as though I’ve fallen asleep at all. My mind is instantly on the possible pregnancy and the need to know for sure. For whatever reason, it feels like the one thing in this whole crazy, mixed-up life I can control. Even if that control is only an illusion.
“I think I’m going to take a walk, if that’s okay,” I announce as I bring my breakfast plate to the sink. If I can get out, I can walk down to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test.
Both Wade and my mom look up at me as if I’ve managed to grow horns on the top of my head.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Well, it’s just—you haven’t said two words this morning,” Wade says, trying to smooth out his face. “It was just an abrupt shift.”
I run my fingertips across my forehead, nodding to myself. “Yeah, sorry. Just in my head a bit. Lots t
o mull over, you know? That’s why I thought a walk might do me some good.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Wade asks, getting up from his seat.
I shake my head, reaching out for him. “No, stay. Sit. It’s okay. I need a few minutes.”
His expression turns doubtful. “Do you really think you should be out on the streets alone? I mean, after what happened last night with the woman…”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. Of all the things circling my brain at this particular moment, the woman and her connection to the Moirai were pushed further to the recesses of my mind. Which is bizarre in its own way, since the Moirai have been the only thing on my mind for weeks.
“I’ll go with her. I think we need a little time to talk,” Mom says, shifting back her chair and standing up. “Wade, would you mind taking a look at the television? It hasn’t connected to the Blu-ray player in ages and I’d love to bust out our stash of Christmas films tonight. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition in this house.”
Wade shifts his gaze from my mom back to me, a silent question lingering in his eyes.
Nodding my head, I say, “It’s okay. She’s right, we have a lot to talk about. Besides, I’d be useless with the Blu-ray thing.” I shoot him a smile, but I’m not certain it was very convincing.
His eyes narrow as he stands up and rests his hands on my arms. Looking deep into my eyes, he finally says, “Take your phone and if anything strange happens—”
I step forward, placing a kiss on his lips. “You’ll be the first I call.”
He watches me for a moment, but finally nods and turns to my mom. “All right, Andrea. Would you mind showing me this Blu-ray player you speak of?”
The two of them wander into the living room as she shows him the outdated electronic equipment. With the exception of watching Buffy reruns when I was younger, neither of us really spent much time watching television. It’s no wonder the thing isn’t working right.
After fifteen minutes of explanation and discussion, Wade is on the floor following cables and Mom walks over to me.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod, reaching to grab my coat from the rack. She does the same and shrugs into it.
“We’ll be back soon,” I call out, putting my coat on. “Promise.”
Wade stands up and brushes off his knees. In four huge strides he stands in front of me. Without a word, he places his hands on either side of my face and bends forward. His lips press down on mine, making my skin tingle and my cheeks flush.
“You better,” he whispers, as he takes a step.
Mom turns away, reaching for the door handle and trying to pretend she didn’t witness any of that.
I grin, standing up on my toes and brushing my lips one last time against his.
Without another word, Mom opens the door and we walk out into the blustery cold. Large snowflakes drift through the air, blanketing the ground as they sparkle in the sunlight trying to peek through in places. I zip my coat up to my chin and shove my hands into my pockets.
We walk down the sidewalk in silence, just watching the snow fall.
After a few minutes, Mom turns to me and says, “Autumn, there were so many times I wanted to tell you everything. I miss how things were with us before.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Before?”
She nods. “Before your accident. Everything was out in the open. You were in training with your dad. Abigail was there, too. Though your dad couldn’t be certain. You talked about a woman being there.”
I face my gaze forward, concentrating on the snow-covered sidewalk. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“I know,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. The memories, they may come back. I just don’t know for sure.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, biting the side of my lip.
She tips her chin in acknowledgment. “I suppose you’re right.”
“So, Hecate, huh?” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t remember all the details about the mythologies. Had I known, I would have paid closer attention.”
Mom chuckles. “Mythologies don’t always get things right.”
“But you’re immortal?” I say, shooting her a sideways glance.
Her forehead creases and she shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. The longer I’ve been around, the more I notice signs of aging.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m finally getting gray hair?” she laughs. “Pretty sure that’s all you.”
I roll my eyes and she nudges me with her shoulder.
My head still can’t wrap around the idea of my mother being so old. Or supernatural.
“If you’re immor—really, really old,” I say, narrowing my gaze and smirking at her, “could I have inherited that gene? Would that explain how I didn’t drown? Maybe that’s what really happened. Maybe I didn’t resurrect myself at all?”
The idea that maybe I would have a longer-than-normal life suddenly flares against my imagination. Would that protect me against the Moirai?
But if it was the case, would I want to live so long? Or would that be painful to watch those you love continue to leave you? Had Wade still been next in line to become an Angel of Death, perhaps…
Mom’s expression turns thoughtful and she shakes her head. “I don’t think so, sweetie. It took me half a century to reach what looked like age ten. Your aging process has been pretty typical.”
I can’t help but frown. For a brief moment, the idea had balanced on the edge of being appealing.
“We do share some commonalities, though,” Mom says, her forehead furrowing.
“Like what?”
“Well, for starters, I can also communicate with the dead. And I love graveyards, too. But I can see them for what they are—gateways into the realm of the eternal,” she says, keeping her voice low as we approach a family building a snowman in their yard.
We’re closer now to the drugstore and I need to find a way to break away from her for a moment to get what I need inside.
My eyebrows flick upward and I exhale slowly. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“It’s why your father and I were attracted to one another, I think. We shared so much in common—so much I didn’t think I’d ever share with anyone. The gifts we share aren’t very common. In fact, I’d wager…” she pauses, as if choosing her words carefully. After a moment, she sighs and says, “Wade is special, too, isn’t he?”
I stop walking and twist to look at her, unsure what to tell her. “He used to be,” I finally admit.
“Used to be?” Mom asks, her eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, it’s complicated.”
“Try me. I’m pretty sure I can keep up,” Mom says, reaching out and touching my elbow.
I swallow hard, turning from her for a moment. Do I tell her everything? That he was expelled for loving me? That it’s my fault he’ll never be supernatural, never have powers…
Sighing, I say, “The powers he would have gained were stripped from him. But you’re right. He was meant to be an Angel of Death.”
Mom takes a step back, eyes wide. It clearly wasn’t what she had been anticipating.
“An Angel of Death? Are you certain?” she whispers.
“Very.” I nod.
She shakes her head, stepping away and pacing. “And he was stripped of his birthright, you say? How did this happen?”
“His father. He was given a mark that expelled him from the club, I guess.” I shift uncomfortably to one foot, eyeing the drug store a block away.
Her eyebrows tug in and she taps her lips with the tip of her finger.
“What is it?” I ask.
Mom’s hazel gaze switches to me and she says, “Maybe nothing. But I’d like to look at this mark. Do you think he’d let me see it?”
I shrug. “Probably.”
She nods, clearly lost in her own thoughts.
“Mom, I—uh, forgot my toothbrush. I’m going to run into the drugstore
quick and pick up a new one. I’ll be right back,” I say, trying to make a quick getaway while she’s thinking.
“Oh, okay,” she says, blinking back her inner monologue. “I’ll come, too. I could use some more shampoo.”
I pull up short, shaking my head. “I can get it for you. Do you use the same stuff as always?”
Mom’s eyes narrow and she smirks. “Yes, but I can grab my own stuff.”
The suspicion in her eyes makes me shift gears. “Suit yourself,” I say, feigning nonchalance. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
“Hmmm,” she mutters, following me anyway.
My heartbeat thumps awkwardly as I pull back the door and step inside. It’s not an overly large store, so keeping things under wraps is going to be difficult. The feminine products are only an aisle over from the shampoo.
I make my way over to the small gift section, pretending to eye the knickknacks and trinkets. Predictably, Mom follows me, checking out the small rack of sweatshirts that say “Mistwood Point” on them.
“Do you need a sweatshirt to remind you of me?” she chuckles, holding a purple one out in front of her. She closes one eye, trying to match it up with my frame.
“Sure,” I say, smiling. “That was my devious plan. Get you in the store so you can buy me clothes.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “I thought it might be.”
I shake my head. “I’m going to grab that toothbrush.”
I meander away from her, watching her dig through the other racks of clothing. As quickly as I can, I grab a toothbrush. I don’t even look at it; the kind doesn’t matter—it’s just a prop.
Shooting another glance down the aisle to locate her whereabouts, I catch a glimpse of her back as she eyes the jewelry display. She’s always loved the natural stone necklaces and bracelets they have here.
Slipping behind the aisle, I make my way to the feminine products section, scanning quickly for the pregnancy tests. I find them on the bottom shelf. Scanning them quickly, I pluck the first one that catches my eye.
99.9% accurate, it reads in the bright-yellow starburst. That’ll do.
The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Page 71