"The Dark Witch," she whispered.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Clayton stepped away from the door and moved closer, keeping his focus sharp on me.
"She's the banshee?" Hattie breathed.
I nodded again. "I think so."
Tears continued to stream down Hattie's face.
"And she's come for us?" she asked.
My lip trembled as I struggled to find a response.
Hattie was right.
The banshee had come for us.
And she always would.
She was the Dark Witch.
She was our mother.
Everyone fell silent around the table, staring at the book of Hell's Gates.
"What is it?" Clayton pressed. "What did you read?"
He turned the book and scanned the pages for anything that might jump out at him. Looking back up at me, his eyes searched for the truth.
"She knows us," I whispered. "She's come for us."
Clayton pulled back and stood rigid.
"What are you talking about? She's just a demon conjured by Josie."
"No," I exhaled. "She's more than that. It's all here." I pointed to the book. "I don't think we can get away from her." My throat constricted as the words scratched out of me.
"What the hell do you mean?" His voice grew agitated as he pressed his fists into the table.
"The banshee is the Dark Witch. It's all here. They're one and the same." I flipped through more pages. "She's come after our covens before. The original coven fought her, and sent her through the portal into limbo. It says it all right here."
He stared at the pages with a bewildered glare.
"And now she's back?" he pressed.
"She'll always come back," I murmured. "It's us she's been seeking all along." I glanced at Hattie.
Clayton stepped back, moving his eyes between Hattie and me, searching for the connection.
Piper and Noah hung on my every word, breathless.
Just as the statement of truth was about to leave my mouth, Piper gasped as her hand flew over her mouth.
We all jumped and followed her gaze to the back of the archives.
As if in slow motion, my eyes moved up the wall and landed on Asher.
He hovered in the air, levitated in a trance, and his eyes glowed yellow.
"Asher!" I screamed.
With my heart pounding out of my chest, I lept toward him, reaching to pull him down.
"No," Clayton called. "Don't touch him."
I froze just inches from Asher's leg.
"You should never jolt someone out of levitation," Piper yelped. "It could cause them to become lost, like disconnected from their body."
"But I can't just leave him..." My voice caught in my throat as I stared at Asher's helpless form hovering above us.
His arms hung limply as if he were bobbing in water. The only part that seemed engaged was his eyes. They glowed in a way that appeared like he was seeing heaven. It illuminated him from within.
"Asher," I whispered, unable to control myself.
His head moved slightly in my direction, and I was sure he'd heard me.
"Asher, what's happening?" I asked in a steady, low tone.
As my words resonated through the tight vault of the archives, Asher's arm twitched and he released something from his hand.
With a smack, a small leather-bound notebook landed on the floor beneath him.
I stepped closer and picked it up.
Turning it in my hands, I gazed at its detail and searched for any writing. The cover was clear of any markings, and I opened it to the first page. The thin booklet seemed insignificant in its size and weight, at first. But once I read the perfectly scrawled words of the title page, I dropped it back onto the exact spot it had originally landed.
"What is it?" Piper gasped, keeping an eye on the booklet as well as Asher's floating form.
"Death," I whispered.
Clayton pulled me away from the small book.
"What are you talking about?" he barked.
I strained to form my words, overwhelmed by the fact that Asher still levitated over us, beaming rays of the afterlife from his pupils.
Then Asher's feet jolted. He flinched as awareness began to return to his body.
"Quick," Noah said, reaching for him. "Help lower him down."
We surrounded Asher as he woke from his trance. Our hands guided him to the floor as he slowly regained consciousness.
"It's my fault," he murmured, as if caught in a bad dream.
I shot a confused gaze at the others, while straining to hear his words.
"It's all my fault," he repeated.
"Asher, you're safe now," I said, placing my hands on his shoulders.
He sat against the stacks of books and dropped his head back against them.
"I failed at leading her to the other side." Asher dropped his face into his hands as if in shame.
My confusion grew deeper.
"Asher. You had nothing to do with any of this. You're okay. You're safe."
I glanced at the booklet on the floor, half-expecting it to burst into flames.
From what I had briefly seen, its pages seemed to hold a small account of the process of death and dying. The meticulous writing within it had chilled my bones, yet its straight forward print was clear and direct.
Asher had been drawn to the small book. He'd gone straight for it when we'd entered the archives. And for some reason, it had a profound affect on him, mesmerizing. His levitation was the final part that made me believe he'd encountered something that would forever change him.
As I looked at my friends, their worried expressions dropped the pit of my stomach, and terror set in its place.
"What did you see, Asher?" I asked, putting aside all my efforts at protecting him from whatever it was that happened.
He glanced up at me, then at the book.
"It's who I am," he said. "I've always known it, but never had a name for it." He reached for the booklet. "A boy named Blake, from the original coven, he wrote this for me. And any others like us. It's our guide."
I stared at the thin book in his hands. The word death had been written prominently throughout it.
"What does it mean, Asher?" I whispered with a shake in my voice.
He swallowed hard, fighting to push out his next words.
"I am the angel," he choked. "The Angel of Death."
Chapter 7
I'd always known Asher's gift was special. I'd just had no idea how special.
He was the Angel of Death.
The idea made me shudder. It was too much responsibility for him, or so it seemed.
Asher was too innocent for such a big job. And every time I'd heard of the Angel of Death, I envisioned someone much older and wiser.
Then I thought of his unique ability to calm the emotions of those around him. He'd even done it to me when he first arrived at Hazeldene. And now I understood better that it was part of his role as the angel. He calmed the ones who were frightened of death and dying. He settled the raw emotions of the most deep-seeded fear known to man.
The fear of dying.
Asher was the one to soothe the terror of the unknown. To help each soul cross over in peace.
But at this moment, he was distraught with shame.
He'd claimed he failed, and that it was his fault.
The Dark Witch had not crossed over.
And now Asher felt responsible.
As I studied his anguished expression, my attention shot toward the stone slab door.
Out of nowhere, it rattled and shook, loosening its secure hold of us within the archives.
Clayton bombed over and shoved his body against it.
"She's trying to get in," he hissed through clenched teeth, pushing back with all his strength.
I pictured her on the other side of the barricade—her heinous, burned skin, the stench of death, bony fingers reaching to claw my soul out of me.
; But at one time, another realm, she was my mother.
"We need to go to her." I reached for Hattie's hand.
Without hesitation, she took hold of mine and stepped toward the door with me.
Her lack of fear gave me more courage, and I knew we were doing the right thing.
It was the only way to spare the rest of the coven from the Dark Witch's vengeance, but also, there was unfinished family business.
There was something unsettled between our mother and us.
"Not a chance," Clayton squared his shoulders against our approach.
The stone slab behind him continued to rattle as if an army were trying to burst through.
"Clayton, please," I begged. "We have to."
His eyebrows pulled together as his jaw clenched.
He knew he'd already lost the battle, and I didn't blame him for trying. But facing the effigy of my mother was necessary. I refused to spend any more energy running from her and avoiding her treachery.
"It's not your responsibility," he pleaded. "She's after all of us."
I hesitated, realizing he still had no idea of her true identity.
Hattie and I had only just discovered it as well, but in the past few minutes it resonated with us so deeply that we seemed to have always known.
"Clayton, it is my responsibility. It is my destiny." I took a deep inhale. "She's my mother."
His head bounced back and hit against the stone. He winced in pain but shook it off immediately.
"No, that's not possible." He closed his eyes as if willing away a migraine.
Piper and Noah stepped closer, examining Hattie and me like we were strangers.
"Shaye?" Piper whimpered.
My eyes lowered as my breath fell out of me.
She was frightened.
"It's okay, Piper. It doesn't mean we're evil." I glanced at Hattie who hung on my every word. "If anything, I want to help her. I want to bring her peace."
"I knew it," Clayton shot. "You think it's your role to save her. It's not. The creature out there is not your mother. It's some conjured demon sent to confuse you." He panted. "Your focus is your coven now."
My heart rate spiked in my chest.
He wasn't wrong in his thinking, but his order of priority didn't match mine.
If I was to keep the coven strong, I had to deal with my family issues. And there was no doubt in my mind that the deranged creature behind the stone wall was my mother.
"He's right," Noah stated. "We need to remain together as a coven. It's what we're supposed to do. If we break apart now, there's no telling what will happen."
Piper moved closer to him, showing her allegiance.
I was taken aback at first, this being the most I'd ever heard Noah state of being part of the coven. It meant something to him. And I was quickly realizing how much it meant to all of them.
"Okay, I get it," I said. "We're not breaking apart in any way. But for us to get out of here safely, Hattie and I need to at least distract her from the hunt."
My words felt nauseous in my gut, proving that they were only lip service.
There was more on my mind than mere distraction.
I fully intended on confronting the banshee and figuring out how the hell my mother was the Dark Witch.
I bent down to talk with Hattie. I had to be sure she was comfortable with the plan.
"So, I think if we burst out of here and surprise her, we can distract her long enough for the others to escape up the stairs. It's well beyond sunrise by now, and they'll be heard pounding on the door by the kitchen staff."
Hattie nodded with her eyes wide and clear.
"She'll be so surprised by our confrontation, it'll buy us a couple extra seconds," I added.
Hattie blinked.
"I want to tell her who I am," she said. "To see if it's really her." She swallowed hard. "She doesn't look like Momma."
Her voice squeaked out of her.
It was in that moment that I realized it hadn't been that long since Hattie saw our mother. She'd only arrived to Hazeldene a couple months ago, and that was nothing compared to my many years of separation. I was young, just on the verge of puberty when I'd left her. My formative years were here at Hazeldene instead of home with my mother. No wonder I couldn't remember her that well.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Hattie. She may not remember you in this state that she's in." I swallowed my heart that threatened to come up my throat. "I mean, she's our mother, but it's not really the mother we know. Know what I mean?"
My words confused me, let alone her.
"Well, if we can make her remember us, maybe she'll stop being bad."
Her words broke my heart in two.
But I couldn't deny them.
Hattie was right.
Maybe we had some power to help her in some way.
I flinched, knowing Clayton had been right about me all along, wanting to save her.
"We can try," I whispered to Hattie.
We'd either make a connection with the witch or we'd have to destroy her.
It was a predicament I never thought I'd be in.
As I glanced up from Hattie's determined gaze, I caught Clayton's odd stare.
I followed his line of vision and landed on Asher.
Between the two of them, something had been planned and my defense shot to its highest level.
"Let us through now," I demanded, determined to not lose another minute. "We'll hold her off as the rest of you escape. Bring the books if you can."
"But they're never to leave the archives. Prof Finneas will have a fit," Piper cried.
"Screw Prof Finneas! We need these journals, and I'll be damned if we have to come back to the catacombs for them."
My command shook my bones. I'd never made such a demand of my friends before, but the stakes were higher now. Time was of the essence.
"Open it!" I shouted to Clayton.
He held my eyes for a moment, making it clear he didn't approve of my plan, but in the same stare, he understood I had no choice.
He turned to the heavy stone slab and pressed against it. As he pushed, it began to shift on its plane and scratch against its gravelly housing.
"Everyone ready," he called back.
Piper and Noah hovered close by, each holding several books and bouncing on their heels like sprinters waiting for the gates to open.
Asher remained at the back near the stacks of ancient journals. It was like he was still clinging to the time before he learned of his origin—as if he wished to be the carefree boy with copper hair, rather than the Angel of Death.
My heart sank for him.
But then the stone slab broke free from its seal, letting out a whoosh of dust.
Just as the first bit of air shot through, the banshee's wail filled the vault, causing us to cringe in pain from the distraught sound.
She was just outside, waiting for her chance to pounce and devour us.
I drew a deep breath and took Hattie's hand.
"Ready?" I breathed.
She looked at me with complete trust in her eyes.
"Ready."
And as we took the first lunge toward the opening, we were knocked back by a whir of motion.
As I steadied myself and focused on the movement, I stared as Asher pushed past us and bombed out the door.
Clayton made way for him, holding the stone slab open just enough for him to squeeze through.
My hands flew to my ears as the wretched sound of the tortured banshee made my mind explode. The sound wrecked my brain, causing me to crumple.
Hattie fell with me as we resisted the sound of our mother's suffering.
"Run! Now!" Clayton demanded, grabbing hold of my arm.
Piper and Noah surrounded us, forcing Hattie and me to our feet.
Without a chance to even think, we were out of the vault, running.
Looking back, I watched as Asher advanced toward the banshee.
She swung her cloak at him, reeling
back from his attempt to make contact with her.
As he moved closer, she burst into a swarm of a thousand crows. The black birds flew around us in flapping chaos, whipping through our hair and cawing in our ears.
Swatting at the demon-like birds, we barreled up the stairs toward the chapel.
Asher ran behind, along with Clayton, keeping an eye that we weren't being followed.
Running across the tiled pentagram, my mind raced with what might have been and what might have happened. Resentment shot through my gut at the lost opportunity, and noting Hattie's hesitation to climb the final stairs toward our escape, I knew she felt the same.
We'd missed an opportunity to connect with our mother.
And it was Clayton and Asher's fault.
As we barreled up the stairs, pushing on each other to move faster, we reached the top in a heap. Rapping on the door and jiggling the handle, we attempted to burst through to our safety.
As the door remained steadfast, I remembered Josie.
She'd locked us down here.
She'd hoped the Dark Witch would consume us. Devour us.
My heart pounded as anger surged through my veins.
Josie tampered in events she had no clue about. She thought she was sneaky and conniving, but all along, she was only Laney's pawn.
Laney.
Laney Rosco had information.
She knew about my connection to the Dark Witch. Always had.
She knew she was my mother.
Who the hell was Laney, anyway?
I resolved to find her connection to us, where in the same breath, I resolved to remove Josie from any of my coven's future missions.
Josie was trivial and a nuisance.
I knew who I truly had to focus on now.
And it was Laney Rosco.
As we continued pounding on the door for our release, a new anger boiled in my veins.
It had to do with Clayton and Asher conspiring against Hattie and me.
They had planned to attack the banshee so we couldn't.
My eyes narrowed into two steady beams that I shot directly at Clayton.
He shriveled against my attack, knowing he was in deep trouble.
Just as I was about to ream him, the door shuddered.
Mystic Coven: Winter Wiccan (Supernatural Academy Graduates Book 2) Page 6