Things She's Seen

by Pat Esden

  She drew a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly to calm herself like her therapist taught her. Relax. Let it go. She could do this. She had to.

  Taking another slow breath, Em looked out again. Chloe was being held down. But she wasn’t shackled. She wasn’t fighting against them either. “Do you think she’s unconscious?”

  “I can sense her magic,” Devlin said, sounding relieved. “She might be drugged. But she’s alive and conscious. Thanks to Hecate.”

  Dux’s voice boomed as he shouted into the phone. “Yes! I said on solstice eve.” His voice sweetened and Em had to strain to hear as he continued. “You won’t want to miss the celebration. I’ll be revealing something truly extraordinary…”

  As Dux’s voice dropped out of hearing range, Gar steered them away from the doorway and the curtain fell closed. His gaze went from Em to Devlin. “Here’s what I’m thinking. First, I’ll use my darts to test the floor. There are a lot of Barbies coming and going across it, so I’m willing to bet the spell has been lifted, for now. Feel free to speak up if you have any suggestions.”

  “The spell’s power was used up when we fell through it,” Em said. “Before that happened, there was a moment when I couldn’t connect with the spirits. Once we went through, I could again.” She shuddered. “But I still think you should test it. Just to be safe.”

  Gar smiled at her. “That takes a weight off my mind, though I agree about playing it safe.” He looked at Devlin. “We’ll have to attack fast. Shock and awe. Grab Chloe and get out.”

  Devlin nodded. “I’ve got two of your light bombs canisters left, and a few other tricks.”

  “Good.” Gar’s gaze returned to Em. He ran a hand over his cap, as if hesitant to say what was on his mind.

  She frowned. “You better not be thinking of telling me to wait here.”

  “I wish I could.” Worry flickered through his eyes, but it was followed by a gleam that said he had full confidence in her. “While Devlin and I go after Chloe, I want you to get the gold triangle. You know where it is, right?”

  “Yes. In an office just to the right of where we are now—twenty or thirty yards at the most.” She really hadn’t expected this. But it made sense. They couldn’t just leave the key here, even if they didn’t know what it was for.

  “Stick close to the wall,” Gar told her. “Use the pillars to shield you from Dux’s view. Once you’ve got the triangle, leave. Don’t stop to help us. Don’t think about us or Chloe. Get out.”

  “I can’t do that,” she protested. “You might need—”

  Gar raised a finger to silence her. “No matter what happens, we can’t let Dux complete that key. I need you to make sure the Council gets it.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe he’d even suggested it. “Why? We can’t trust them.”

  “Give it to Ignatius. He’s the chancellor I talked to in the corridor at headquarters. You remember what he looks like?”

  She nodded. She didn’t like the idea. But this wasn’t the time or place to debate it. “Just don’t ask me to give it to the asshole who was with him. That guy may be passing himself off as a potion master, but he’s a medium. There’s no way he didn’t know you were haunted.” She bit her tongue to keep from going on. So much for waiting for the perfect time to debate things.

  Amusement twitched at the corners of Gar’s lips. “The asshole’s name is Heath Goddard, and I know what he is.”

  “Heath Goddard.” Em repeated the name, committing it to memory. “I don’t like—or trust—him.”

  “I’m with you there,” Gar said. “He’s number one on my list for having been involved with Rhianna.”

  Devlin stepped forward. “Em, don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “I second that idea.” Gar pulled out his phone and gave it to Em. “Once you get outside, call Zeus. If we’re lucky, he might already be in town. He’ll know how to contact Ignatius.”

  Em stared at the phone, her head whirring from the craziness of what they were about to attempt. It was unbelievable how her life had changed since that day with Johnny at the river, and even more so since she’d gotten sober and started living at the complex, not to mention in the last few hours.

  “On the count of three,” Gar said, easing the curtain all the way open.

  He held one finger up. Then two—

  He took a dart from his sleeve and lobbed it past the pillars and into the center of the room. It landed with a thunk, point stuck firmly into the floor. No sparks of Dux’s magic. No sense of magic at all.

  “Did you hear that?” One of the Barbies swung to look in the dart’s direction.

  “Three. Go!” Gar sped forward, shooting darts one after another to mark a path to the platform. Devlin hurled a canister. It exploded. White light flared.

  Em squinted against the brightness. She drew up her magic, focused it on an incoming wave of wraiths and shouted, “Be gone! Be gone!”

  Then she bolted along the edge of the circular room, sticking close to the wall and using the pillars to shield her from view as she raced toward Dux’s office and the triangle.

  Chapter 31

  No ghosts walk her hallways. No wraiths scream in her cellar.

  Her house is haunted by boxes of scarves and postcards.

  Broken earrings. Tattered ribbons. Torn paper. A carnation, dried brown.

  Skeleton keys lay in a bowl. Which lock they open, she cannot remember.

  —Journal of Emily Adams

  Memory. Elderly client. New Haven, Connecticut. 10 years old.

  Screams and explosions of magic roared behind Em as she dashed into Dux’s office. File cabinets and bookcases lined one wall. Showcases packed with stuffed lizards and glass knickknacks covered another. The gold triangle floated five feet above a flat-topped desk. It was equilateral and moderately thin, like a trio of rulers glued together and spray-painted gold. Yellow diamonds glistened in two of its corners.

  Em licked her lips and went up onto her tiptoes, preparing to grab it—but retreated. What if the triangle was warded with a protection spell? She didn’t sense anything, but she might not. She didn’t have experience detecting such things. She might not even sense if the triangle was booby trapped.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Rapid fire explosions boomed from the raging battle. The floor shook. Knickknacks rattled in the showcases. Chloe’s distant scream pierced the air.

  “Screw it.” Em went back up onto her tiptoes and clamped her fingers around one side of the triangle. A sharp sting of magic shot up her arms and her sixth sense jolted awake. She yanked on the triangle to pull it free from whatever kept it suspended—

  It didn’t budge.

  Gritting her teeth, she grasped it in two hands, drew up her magic, and channeled it into her clenched fingers. Sparks of magic arced out from her fists. She yanked again. The triangle resisted, then released so quickly that she stumbled backward. But she had it. Time to get out.

  Her chest tightened, and a painful sense of desperation closed around her.

  The books. The books, Saille and Athena’s emotion-choked voices cried in her ears. Take the books. The books.

  “Which books?” Em asked.

  The other room. Other room. Hurry.

  Em spun around, looking for an adjoining room. She spotted a doorway next to the largest showcase. Heartbeat racing, she sprinted to it and into what appeared to be a sitting room. There was an ornate fireplace and an upholstered sofa and chairs, cozy and welcoming. Globes spun slowly. Atlases opened, beckoning for her to take a look. Overhead, crystal-draped chandeliers twinkled invitingly. Pretty. Peaceful. The scent of violets filled her nose….

  Her muscles went slack, and an urge to sit down and put her feet up washed over her.

  What the hell? Em shook her head to free it from the overwhelming desire to relax. There was something strange g
oing on in this room. Something she didn’t have time for.

  She clutched the triangle tighter and scanned the room. Books. Special volumes.

  Just to her left, three leather-bound books floated upright in midair with their spines touching so they formed a triangle. A waterfall of black sparks hissed downward from the cluster. Shafts of light shot upward from it. Within the shafts of light, Merlin’s crystal hovered.

  Her gaze flicked from the triangle of clustered books to the gold triangle in her hand. There was a definite connection, but how it worked or what spells were involved was way out of her league. All she could hope was that the books would be as willing to come with her as the gold triangle had been. But how was she going to transport everything out of here, especially with all the sparks and light? Not to mention the fact that leaving Merlin’s crystal behind didn’t seem like an option.

  A chill swept up her arms and across her scalp.

  Something’s here, her intuition murmured.

  She drew up her magic, casting out her net as she turned in a slow circle. She couldn’t see anyone. But she felt a presence. Not a ghost—this was alive. Powerful magic.

  Cold sweat iced her body. It wasn’t Dux, but the energy felt similar—a cambion.

  “Dear Goddess,” Em gasped. It was Merlin’s Shade.

  A tall apparition with a long white beard manifested directly behind the floating books, like mist becoming solid. How had he escaped from the otherworld? They’d just imprisoned him. The Lady of the Lake, Nimue, had pledged to keep a closer eye on him.

  He held out his hands at waist level and the cluster of books floated down toward him until it hung just above his palms. Black sparks bathed his fingers and the shafts of light continued to shoot toward the ceiling.

  Em shuffled backward. Every lingering trace of unnatural calmness was gone from her body and the room. Merlin’s Shade. He was beyond dangerous. A master of magic. Unscrupulous. Powerful. Still, she had to get the books. But how?

  His misty-green gaze settled on hers. “These books are mine to give. Years ago, I freely gifted one set to the sorceress Nimue. I give this set to you, along with the crystal from my first staff. Use them well.”

  Em stiffened. Her instincts whispered for her to grab the books and run. Spirits she trusted had told her to get them. But this was too easy—and easy was never good. She’d seen firsthand where trusting him had taken Rhianna.

  She raised her hands, palms out as if to fend off the gift. “Thank you very much. But I don’t want them.”

  His eyes sparkled and he laughed. “Child, you mistake who I am. I am not only my Shade.” He gestured at the waterfall of dark sparks, then to the shafts of rising light. “Like my Book of Shadow and Light, I assure you that the man standing before you is my entirety.”

  “Ah, you’re—Merlin?” Em’s head spun. She had sensed a cambion. It made total sense that Merlin’s energy would have reminded her of Dux; they were half brothers.

  He is. Saille’s voice murmured.

  Em blinked at him. Merlin. The great wizard. His dark half and the light. The books and crystal were his legacy, and they belonged in the safekeeping of a powerful witch, not a messed up psychic medium like her. “I think you’re mistaking me for Chloe, the high priestess.”

  “I know who you are. Born, Kate Brewster. Became, Violet Grace. Are, Emily Adams.” He brought his hands together. The shafts of light and dark sparks vanished. The books joined into a single volume with the crystal fused to the center of its cover, then settled onto his palms. “Like you, I was born a witch with a gift for seeing the dead.”

  Her thoughts jumbled. Saille had been a psychic medium too, and a powerful witch. But she—Emily Adams—wasn’t anything above average. She couldn’t even make a decent energy ball. “That’s cool—and I’ll take the book to keep it out of Dux’s hands. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be its guardian. I can barely take care of myself. Besides, I’d never be able to make use of it. I’m not even good with modern English, and it’s written in what?” She thought about Merlin’s legends and the tales of the round table she’d always loved. She ventured a guess. “Archaic Welsh?”

  “There is no reason you can’t learn the old language. You already possess a key.” He tapped the book with his forefinger, turning it in midair so its cover faced her. The outline of a triangle was incised into the leather, a size and shape that perfectly matched the gold one clutched in her hands.

  “But the key isn’t finished—” She clamped her lips together once she saw the darkness hidden in his offer. Merlin both light and shade. “Forget it. I’m not going to kill Chloe so she can be turned into a stone and complete a key. For Dux or you—or for my benefit.”

  Merlin flicked his fingers, sending the book drifting toward her. “Chloe is not the only young witch here.”

  “She’s the only high priestess.” Em drew up her magic and flicked her fingers at the book, sending a wave of energy to shove the book away. No surprise, it didn’t move a fraction. But it did come to a standstill.

  A slight smile rippled across Merlin’s lips. “You are not only young, you are a member of the Northern Circle.”

  “I’m not their high priestess.” Merlin was awfully dense for an allegedly wise man. “I’m not special. I’m not any kind of chosen one, trust me on that.”

  All humor faded from his expression. His voice rumbled, the magic in its timbre vibrating straight into her bones. “I agree. There are others like you. But that makes you no less special. You are an aspect of the Goddess, just as Chloe is.” A devious glisten sparked in his eyes. “You see, my imbecile half brother mistranslated my spell. The key does not require three high priestesses from the same coven. The requirement is the power of three witches from the same coven, each representing one aspect of the Goddess: Maiden. Mother. Crone. The reason Rhianna could not activate the key is because she is far from a maiden. You, however, are still in your youth. A maiden. Full of failure. Full of courage. Full of potential.”

  Em’s chest tightened as the truth of what he was saying sank in. Since she’d gotten sober and joined the Circle, that was exactly how she felt. Full of failure. Full of courage. Full of potential.

  Merlin flicked his fingers, his body shimmering and beginning to fade as he sent the book inching toward her again.

  Boom! Crack! Sounds of the battle broke through the silence, reverberating loud in the room. The walls rattled. The chandelier over Em’s head swayed, prisms clattering. The distant din of screams and shouts transformed into a loud roar as new voices joined in. Men. Women. Lots more of them joining the battle.

  Em clutched the gold triangle tighter, hoping Zeus had gotten Gar’s message and the onslaught was the arrival of the Council Guard. It had to be.

  The thump of footsteps sounded behind her, someone running through Dux’s office and toward the room she was in. She swiveled to see who had come to her rescue. Gar?

  Her body went cold as Magus Dux sprinted into the room.

  He swung the door shut behind him and swept his hand across it, sparks of magic fanning from his fingertips, sealing it closed. He turned to face her, amber eyes blazing with fury. Dirt and blood steaked his clothes, but other than that he looked unscathed. “That will give us some privacy. A smart idea, wouldn’t you say?”

  Em’s legs weakened. She clutched the triangle tightly to her chest. Whether it was a losing battle or not, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Dux stepped closer. Light glistened off sweat that beaded on his temples. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

  Sweat? Rapid breathing? Em pressed her lips hard together to keep from smiling. She knew those signs. She’d seen them on her aunt hundreds of times. Dux’s bravado was false. In truth, he was terrified. Unfortunately, that made him even more dangerous.

  She took a relieved breath. Thankfully, she didn’t have to face him alone. After a
ll, Merlin wouldn’t have offered her the books if he was on Dux’s side. Would he?

  Em turned back to Merlin. The book still drifted between them, but he was now no more than a curl of mist, as silvery as Alice had been before she’d gone into the light.

  I can do no more in this form, Merlin’s voice whispered in her ear. The book is your weapon. Maiden. Mother. Crone. Page three. The spell is on page three. The last misty trace of Merlin evaporated, and his voice silenced.

  Dux dove for book. Em reached it first. She swung it out of Dux’s reach and slapped the gold triangle into the incised slot on its cover.

  The book shuddered in her hands. Its vibrations branched across her skin, awakening every inch of her.

  “Give it to me,” Dux said, prowling toward her. “Don’t make me have to kill you.”

  She gripped the book in two hands and lied. “Don’t think I won’t use this. Merlin told me how.”

  He snorted. “How can you? The key isn’t complete.” He stopped moving forward and smiled. His voice sweetened. “How about we turn this into a win for both of us? You keep the book and come with me. I’ll give you sanctuary. You won’t have to worry about your aunt hunting you down. You could write your poetry in peace.”

  Em’s mouth went dry. How could he know about that? She’d never told anyone about her dream of being a poet, except for her therapist, and Johnny.

  Slow, cold dread seeped into her veins. Gar couldn’t have told him her secrets. He wouldn’t betray her like that. Please, not Gar.

  A memory from when she’d first arrived at the Circle’s complex came to her. Rhianna, disguised as Athena, was talking softly to her, a heart-to-heart about her life and recovery, including the poetry.

  Hot anger rushed through Em. She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting that she knew who had told him. Better to stay quiet. To keep him guessing.

  “Well”—Dux huffed out a breath—“if you’re not willing to cooperate, you’ll have to die.” He gestured with two fingers and an icicle-shaped dagger flew from his beltline to his hand. It glimmered like liquid silver. “Recognize this?”