Chapter 17
Becky vanished into the basement and Abby waited, trying not to let the feeling of despair, that hung as heavy as the cigarette smoke in her mother's kitchen, drag her down. When she finally returned with a stack of albums, Abby could no longer take it and went to the window over the sink, pushing it open and gulping the fresh crisp air. She watched the tall oak tree in the front yard release some of the last of her brown leaves to the earth below.
Becky dropped the books on the table with a huff and slid the top one to the side, flipping back the cover.
"I haven't looked at these in...well over a decade at least, maybe more. Sydney wanted them a few years back, but I never did get around to giving them to her." Becky sighed and turned the album so that Abby could see it.
"It's not all Trager, there's other stuff mixed in, but here you see all of us out on the lake. Mom, Dad—that's Sydney in the bikini showing off, even at three." She spoke in equal parts anger and sadness. "There's the tree house. My dad built that for Sydney and me, but my mother spent more time in there than I did."
Abby looked at the large structure sitting atop branches that hardly seemed capable of holding it. It was a log-style tree house, complete with little windows adorned with tiny red curtains. A rope ladder hung from its deck.
"Who are they?" Abby gasped. "I mean they look so strange." Abby tried to cover her outburst, but still her mother watched her skeptically.
She pointed to a photo of the stone cottages. Four women stood together on the beach, their arms wrapped around one another. Abby recognized her grandmother in the group.
"That's Lorna's mom, Kate, in the blue dress," Becky told her. "She lived in one of those cottages. Gwen's mom, Denise, has all the necklaces on and she lived there too. Little dumps if you ask me. It was like livin' in a hippie commune, which of course Sydney and Mom thought was a real hoot. No, thank you! That's about one step above a trailer park..."
"A commune? Is that what they were?" She studied the small cottages. The picture had been taken in the summer and the lawn burst with wildflowers.
"How would I know?" She glowered at Abby.
"Did Grandma say that though?"
Becky shrugged and flipped the page.
"Mom called them love sisters. That was more than enough information for me. I don't know the name of the third woman, but she may have lived there too."
"And Sydney was friends with their daughters?"
"Yep, peas in a pod, that group. Their little houses always smelled like patchouli and, God forbid, you got stuck having dinner over there. Tempeh meatloaf or tofu burgers. Ugh, my stomach turns just thinking of it."
Abby smiled thinking about the roasted Tofurkey Sebastian had made at Ula two weeks before. All of the witches, excluding Dafne, pretended to enjoy it. Helena even asked for seconds, despite the dense soggy texture. It hurt Abby's heart to think of it so she shifted back to the photos.
"What is this?"Abby asked, pulling out a sheet of folded paper that had stuck to the album's page. She began to open it, revealing a drawing of a dark forest with a vibrant red willow tree nestled in the center.
Becky snatched the paper away and balled it in her fist.
"That's private," she hissed and marched out of the room.
Chapter 18
August 9, 1908
Dafne woke to chanting. The haunting murmurs beckoned her out of the cottage and into the warm night. She walked, sleepy, into the Ebony Woods and followed the sounds. Buried deep in the thick foliage, she could see the brilliant light of a fire. Her body began to resist her forward movement. Without warning, her feet simply stopped and she nearly pitched forward. She walked to a tree and rested her palm against the soft white folds of birch bark. The tree emitted an ominous vibration and Dafne pulled away, startled. Then she began to hear the screams.
Aubrey cried out first and then Debra. She heard Henry begging for Aubrey's life. Dafne raced towards the fire, but as she moved into the clearing, she struck a shield of darkness that blasted her back. Her body sprawled on the forest floor. The fire burned an enormous ring around the witches and they were trapped within it. In the center of the circle, shrouded by eerie red light, Tobias stood in rapture. His black eyes reflected the horror of her beautiful magnetic friends. Naked from the waist up, sweat shone on the taught muscles of his chest and arms. Resting on his chest, Dafne saw a gold amulet with a red stone in its center.
"Noooo," Dafne screamed, and she began to draw the fire into her, but it only grew larger around the witches.
Tobias leered at her and threw his hands toward the sky where a ball of blue fire erupted from his fingertips. He turned and cast it towards Evelyn. Evelyn whose beautiful cherub face lit up when she talked to the birds at her feeders each day. Evelyn who'd promised Dafne that when she and Tobias left for New York, she would teach a pigeon to carry their messages. Evelyn burst into flames. She fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in agony.
Dafne saw the other witches trying to help her, but something all-powerful held them rooted in place. She stood and raced into the barrier, but again it shocked her away. A dozen times she tried, but one by one, Tobias burned them all. She slowly understood that he pulled his power from her. With each thrust of fire into the circle, Dafne grew more depleted and Tobias grew stronger. He inhaled the smoke as it rose up from their bodies and he danced in a circle and laughed and cried out in ecstasy. When the entire forest began to burn, Dafne's instincts took over and she fled from the blaze.
Chapter 19
When Abby felt sure that her mother slept soundly, she crept into the basement. It smelled of mildew and kitty litter. The overwhelm of boxes, stacked nearly to the ceiling, made Abby's head pound.
"How am I ever going to find anything in here?" she asked out loud.
"What are we looking for?" a voice asked from a far corner of the room and Abby nearly jumped high enough to hit her head on the ductwork above.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw Oliver standing sheepishly in the shadows, his hands tucked into his jean pockets.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, irritated that he was able to surprise her so easily.
"Sorry," he smiled, and walked into the dim light of the single bulb. "I wanted to warn you, but thought your mom might get pissed if I knocked on the front door."
"And this is better?" Abby asked, grimacing at the cobwebs clinging to Oliver's hair.
"It was effective." He smiled and Abby returned the smile in spite of herself.
She had been so angry when she left Ula. Blinded by her pain over Sebastian's death and the discovery that Oliver had killed Sydney, she had not given Oliver a chance to explain. Made worse when she had fled from him after he saved her and Victor in the Vepar's lair.
"I know you're angry," he said quickly, reading her face and perhaps thinking she might lash out at him. "But I need to tell you what happened and, more than that, I want to help you. I need to help you."
She sighed and sank to the floor, ignoring the cold, damp cement that seeped through her jeans.
"I'm not mad at you," she told him, patting the floor beside her. "I should have heard you out and I'm sorry that I ran. I just...I guess I was embarrassed that Victor and I needed help at all."
Oliver looked uncertain, but then a huge grin drew across his face and, rather than sitting, he plucked her off the floor and held her in a bone-crushing hug. She held him back, pressing her face into his shoulder and letting the tears that never seemed to be far away flow freely. When he pulled back and saw her wet cheeks, he wiped them with his hand and then hugged her once more, kissing her on the forehead.
It felt so good to have a friend. Abby had mostly suppressed her loneliness in the previous days, focusing instead on her search for answers.
"I'm happy I had the chance to save your life, Abby. I, at least, owed you that."
He grabbed two folding chairs and opened them, pressing Abby into one and taking the other.
&nb
sp; "And I've missed you," he told her, his green eyes searching hers and she knew that he meant more than the absence of a friend.
She bit back the next wave of tears that rose behind her eyes.
"I missed you too."
They worked in silence, ripping boxes open and casting aside old clothes and household items, piling up the boxes filled with papers, pictures and albums. Abby did not really know what she searched for, only that she had begun to assemble an enormous jigsaw puzzle of which she could see only a corner.
She sensed how unsettled Oliver felt in their mutual silence. He wanted to explain and seek her forgiveness, but she needed to wait until she could offer her full attention. She also wanted to get out of her mother's basement. The space grew more claustrophobic with every passing second.
When they finished, Oliver loaded more than eight boxes stuffed with history into the trunk of her car.
"What did you drive?" she asked, scanning the road.
"I didn't," he smiled and shrugged. "Hitched a ride with a pretty girl from Detroit."
She started to ask how that transpired, but understood that Oliver's charm, combined with a little magic, could have gotten him a police escort if he desired it.
"I have to check my room too. Can you see it there's a cat carrier for Baboon in the basement?"
He grinned, snuggling the black and white cat against his chest.
"Nah, he'll be fine." Oliver winked at her and Abby realized that he could keep the cat calm despite Baboon's usual anxiety in the car. "Take your time. He and I will be right here." He plopped into the passenger seat and laid it back.
She crept up the stairs and opened the door to her old room. She surveyed the neatly stacked storage bins, all labeled, in front of her closet. The ever meticulous Nick had even written a list of the contents on the side. She did not feel any longing as she sat on the carpeted floor, the faces of her past ogling her from the walls. Posters and pictures and old love letters were tacked and puttied to nearly every surface. She scanned the containers and read about various items of clothing, choosing to take none of them with her. Someone else had lived in those clothes and she didn't want any of that energy following her into her new life. That girl had been weak and afraid. This one was strong and, if she wanted to stay strong, especially with all of the pain swirling just below the surface, she had to close her eyes to the girl who wanted to hide beneath the covers and never come out.
She opened a tote stacked with albums and frames, pulling out only two. One held a picture of Abby sandwiched between her mom and dad on a ferris wheel when she was only five. In the other photo, Sydney and Rod kissed beneath a bundle of mistletoe that he held above their heads.
"Coffee," she told Oliver when they pulled out of the driveway. She didn't need the caffeine. When she needed alertness, she only had to dip her hands in some running water to get a burst, but she loved the smell of the dark oily beans and the warm surge that came with her first sip.
They stopped at a late night java shop and then drank their coffees in the car. She had opted for a cup of french-pressed Sumatra and Oliver insisted on the Works, a caramel double shot latte with extra whipped cream.
"Mmmm," he said, licking off his whip cream mustache.
She laughed and felt grateful for simple joys.
****
For the first hour of their drive, Oliver talked without interruption. He described the night that Sydney died, but he withheld their lovemaking. He had not forgiven himself for the indiscretion and knew that Abby would struggle to accept it as well. Not only had he given in to his lust, his desire created the perfect opportunity for Alva to strike. He told Abby about Faustine's theory that Alva had taken control of Sydney's mind and used her to draw Oliver into the house.
At the end of his long and tragic tale, Abby leaned over and took his hand. He knew that she struggled to hold back her tears. At a gas station, he got behind the wheel so that Abby could nap. She curled up on the passenger seat and faced away from him, nestling Baboon against her belly. Oliver reached across and rubbed her back gently and eventually the crying began, not ending until Abby drifted to sleep.
That night they left the boxes in the car and, world weary, took the stairs to Rod's loft. They slept side-by-side in Sydney and Rod's bed, their breath lulling the other to sleep as the comfort of their two bodies near to one another made the long night bearable once more.
****
"Where are you sneaking off to?" Isabelle asked Sebastian , handing him a ceramic to-go mug filled with piping hot tea. "I added honey."
Sebastian had stayed with Isabelle for nearly two weeks. Every day she catered to him and his feelings of desperation grew. Strangely, he sensed that Isabelle was perfectly content to let him live with her, identity-less, forever.
"I'm just going to walk. I'm starting to feel like something's going to come back," Sebastian told her.
"That's great," she said, but her smile looked sad.
He took a sip of his tea and winced as it burned his tongue.
"Thank you again for everything," he told her before he slipped out the door and ambled down the street. For reasons that he did not understand, he wove a strange pattern each time he returned to Patty's store. He doubled back twice and cut through a deli. No matter how many diversions he took before he reached her, he still felt convinced that someone followed him.
Once inside, he closed the door securely behind him and watched through the window for several seconds.
"Got the paranoia on you again today, stranger?" Patty asked, sashaying up to him in a glittery tangerine-colored dress. White tufts of chiffon beneath the skirt combined with knee-high white cowboy boots made the outfit seem more fitting for a five year old whose mother let her pick out her own outfit.
"I like it," he lied, knowing that Patty knew otherwise, but appreciated his compliments just the same.
"Well, I wish I had some good news for you," she told him, walking back to her counter. "But mum's the word on any American disappearances. I've been on the Google for three days and unless you're a teenage girl from Sacramento, I've got nothing."
He moved a pile of clothes from one of her antique chairs and took a seat.
"I'm not surprised," he complained. "It feels weirder than that. Maybe I was a spy or an assassin?" He looked at her hopefully.
She stood on a step-ladder and then perched on the edge of her counter, her boots dangling childlike two feet from the floor.
"Surfer, I'm telling you. You want my opinion? You caught the wave of your life and it washed you all the way to France. I bet you lived in one of those little Winnebagos on the beach and no one even realizes that you're missing yet."
"Ha, yeah," he chuckled, and flipped absently through one of her women's catalogues. "If that's the case, I wish my spaced-out girlfriend would get sick of making her own eggs and come find me."
He glanced down and an advertisement shocked him to silence. The photo depicted a woman in a long silver dress running up a twisted stairway to a medieval castle beyond. In the prison of his mind, a door swung open and, for an instant, he saw a gothic castle towering over a brilliant lagoon. He tried to follow the image, but nothing else came to him.
Patty scooted closer and glanced at the page.
"You just remembered something?"
He nodded and touched the photo. In his memory, he sought a face or a name, but nothing else developed.
"Maybe you're a Prince," Patty teased.
He stood and paced away from her. A terrible fear that he would never remember anything started to wash over him.
Patty sensed his distress and hopped from the counter. She walked to him and, standing on tiptoes, placed her hands on his shoulders.
"I have someone that I want you to meet," she told him.
****
The next day, Abby showed Oliver the room beneath the loft and together they pawed through boxes of newspaper clippings, journal entries and photos.
"Wow," Oliver sai
d, taking a break and stretching his neck from side to side. "There's too much." He held up his hands in surrender.
"I know," Abby agreed. "I felt the same way when I first came down here. I don't even know where to begin with deciphering all of this. And there's more..."
She crawled out of the space and returned with a manila envelope. She opened it and handed him the single sheet of paper inside.
He studied it, at first not seeing, and then a look of surprise took over his features.
"Dafne? What is this?"
Abby pointed to the figure with the wild hair.
"That is Aubrey Blake and this picture was taken a hundred years ago..."
Oliver slowly shook his head from side to side.
"But Dafne never lived in Trager City. Right? I mean, she told me she came from somewhere out east and she couldn't possibly have known Devin's aunt." But he lifted the picture closer to his face, his concern growing.
"I don't know what it means either, but I found this picture right after Devin died. Dafne knew Devin's aunt, Oliver. I don't know why she didn't tell anyone, but that is her..."
"I need to get outside, it's getting hard to breathe in here," Oliver said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.
Abby agreed and they left the apartment, driving her little car out of the city to an old dune trail that Abby remembered from childhood.
"I haven't been out here in years," she told him as they wound through the woods, walking a path that only existed in her memory.
When she was a child, Sydney took her exploring and they found secret forests and beaches tucked all over the Trager Peninsula. Sometimes Sydney had already staked them out and other times they just walked for hours until they found something worthy of their hike. Abby still owned a single pearl earring from one of their expeditions. It sat in a jewelry box in her childhood bedroom.
"Trager," Oliver said, scanning the horizon as they reached the top of a small bluff. What's the pull? You know what I mean? There's something here, I can feel it, but what? And now this thing with Dafne? Is it possible she just passed through here and didn't even remember it?"
Born of Shadows- Complete Series Page 48