by Teri Harman
“We think a Dark witch or coven took them to work some kind of spell, possibly killing them in the process. That spell is causing the quakes.”
Sarah gasped. “Oh no! Do you know who?”
“No. We’ve been looking for a month and can’t find anything.”
Ethan grunted, switched the channel. “That because it’s a load of crap.” He scoffed again, turning abruptly. “This whole thing is a big, sadistic joke. I mean, now our daughter is talking about missing people and murders. What kind of a life is that?” He pointed a judgmental finger at Willa. “You better not go around town telling people you know something about thirteen people missing. You’re gonna end up in trouble.”
Willa’s anger flashed hot. “Dad! This isn’t some kind of delusion or brainwashing. This is very real. You can’t keep—”
Sarah cut her off with a hand on her arm. “You’ve got to stop this, Ethan. This is our daughter’s life—it’s not a joke. It’s very serious. She could be in danger again. I know you don’t understand or want to understand the witch world, but if you’re not going to try, then keep your mouth shut!”
Willa blinked. She’d never heard her mom talk that way to her dad. Certainly not raise her voice. Usually, Ethan took the authoritative stance, doing the managing as he was accustomed to. Willa watched him carefully, her hands balling into nervous fists, arms still locked around the grimoire. His face hardened a bit, but then his shoulders sagged.
“You never gave me a chance to understand, Sarah.” He clicked off the TV and stood. Willa blinked, shocked. Sarah’s face collapsed. For the first time, Willa realized her mother wasn’t only fighting to regain her daughter’s trust, but her husband’s as well.
“I’m sorry, Willa,” Ethan added quietly, not looking at either of them, “but I’ll never be okay with this.” With that he left the room, his steps sounding up the stairs.
Sarah exhaled slowly, her face pale, her shoulders hunched forward. She turned to Willa. “Sorry, honey. I’m working on him, but he’s got that Fairfield stubbornness and naïve practicality. He can’t see past his own ideas.” She shook her head and glared in the direction of the stairs. “And I hurt him badly,” she added, almost too quietly for Willa to hear.
Willa nodded, the back of her throat suddenly tight. “Maybe I should move out.” She hadn’t intended to say that, but the words spilled out before she could grab onto them.
Sarah blinked like Willa had slapped her. “What?! Why would you move out? You’re not to blame for what’s going on between your dad and me.”
“I know that, but Dad hates what I am,” she said, looking down at the grimoire, pulling it tighter against her chest.
Her mom touched her leg gently. “Willa, no. He’s just worried about his little girl. Yes, it’s hard for him, but he doesn’t hate anything about you. He just doesn’t understand it, and that scares him. And he doesn’t know how to handle being scared. The whole witch thing is as new to him as it is to you; but he’s not a witch, so it’s much harder for him to deal with.”
Willa looked up into her mom’s wide, worried face. “Mom . . . I think I should be on my own. I want to be. Maybe things could get better between all of us if there was a little distance.” She bit her bottom lip, pained by the look on her mom’s face, but needed to go on. She’d sat on the idea long enough. “There is a room already waiting at Plate’s Place. I want to be with the Covenant.”
Sarah’s eyebrows lifted in a look of shock and hurt. She opened her mouth, but didn’t get a chance to say anything. Another tremor shook the house. This time a vase fell over on the kitchen table, the water and flowers spilling out. Her mom swore under her breath as she jumped up to clean the mess.
Willa’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, a text from Wynter: Come as soon as you can. She gripped the phone and stood. “Mom, I gotta go.” Willa felt she should stay and talk about the bomb she’d just dropped, but the desire to flee from the impending fight was too strong.
Sarah looked up, her face tight with worry. “Can’t we talk some more? We need to talk about this.”
“Later, okay? I have to meet the Covenant. We have to stop this.” Willa moved toward the stairs. “But please think about what I said.”
“Okay,” her mom said stiffly. She turned back to mopping up the water. With her eyes on the mess, she said, “Be safe, Willa.”
Willa blinked at the strong tug of guilt the words caused: guilt that her strangeness had to worry and affect her parents so much and guilt that she wanted to get away from their worry. She watched her mom’s lowered head and the tense curve of her shoulders. “I will,” she mumbled and then slipped upstairs to change.
Willa hurried through the empty streets to Ruby’s house. The weather still clung to winter, the air laced with the smell of snow. She pulled her scarf higher on her neck and picked up the pace.
Her coven-mates huddled in the kitchen, now almost completely renovated. She shut the door behind her and turned to the group. Willa felt instantly safer being with them, but their concerned, solemn looks slightly dampened the sensation.
Charlotte walked over to put her arm through Willa’s, guiding her to the group. “Where’s Simon?”
“His shift ends at ten.”
She nodded slowly, bit her bottom lip. “More people are missing.”
Willa’s breath caught in her chest. “How many?”
“Fourteen that we know of,” Char said solemnly. “It hasn’t been officially announced, but Cal knows someone at the Denver P.D.”
Willa sat at the table, dazed by the news and turned to look at Wynter. “It’s new moon again.”
“Yes,” Wynter said as she rubbed her right forearm where her scars were hidden under the long sleeve of her peasant top. “The power of the new moon can be used for many types of spells: starting a journey, renewal, healing. But it’s hard to say what a Dark witch would use it for, especially while employing blood sacrifices.”
Elliot came into the room carrying his laptop and sat next to Willa. “Well, this isn’t working like I hoped,” he announced, his face sour with disappointment.
“What are you doing?” Willa asked, looking at the complicated, scientific graphics on his screen.
“I was trying to pinpoint the location of the quakes. I thought if we found the point of origin, then we could go there and find whoever is responsible. But,” he made a few clicks with his mouse, “it’s really weird.”
“Weird how?” Rowan asked.
“The location seems to . . . float, even disappear at times. It’s like the instruments can’t really read these tremors. So all I can say is that they are happening somewhere within a one hundred mile radius.”
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Cal grunted. “Now even the ‘good old-fashioned way’ is failing us.”
The side door opened. Rain came in, shivering in a battered army jacket. She sighed loudly. “I tried the scrying spell again. Even tried to focus only on the quakes and not the magic, but still saw nothing. Only a gray cloud moving just under the surface of the water.”
“This is so bizarre,” Wynter said, rubbing at her temple. “Has anyone heard from friends? Any updates from other witches?”
No one had anything to offer.
By the time Simon arrived at the house, the air was ripe with tension and frustration. He strolled in just as everyone stood up from the table. Willa hurried over. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“More people are missing, none of the spells are helping, and we can’t even use science to find out where the quakes are coming from. So we are splitting up the surrounding areas and driving around.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“See if we can spot anything suspicious or get closer to where the quakes are coming from.” She shrugged as if to say, It’s pointless, but what else can we do?
Rowan stepped to the side door. “Simon, good, you’re here. You and Willa go up the east canyon. Whatever these witches are doing would need privacy.
Maybe they’re in the mountains.”
Simon nodded. “Okay.”
“Text if you find anything.”
Out the door they went, pouring into the driveway and dispersing into the fleet of cars. Simon and Willa hurried back to the Jeep parked on the road in front of the house. Another quake shook the car as Simon started the engine.
“That’s seven,” Willa said warily, looking out the windshield.
“How many people this time?”
“Fourteen.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Halfway through.”
Simon flipped the Jeep around and headed in the direction of the canyon.
Archard stood up from the frigid, lumpy dirt and flexed his arms. His muscles responded with vigor. The cold night air pricked his perfected skin and moved through the clearing with crackling energy. “It’s done!” he hissed. Twenty-seven bodies lay buried in the dirt beneath his feet, the clearing a bloody mess.
Rachel’s eyes traveled up and down his body. “It’s incredible.” She touched a small rippled scar over his right eye—the last remaining trace of his former condition. “This spot right here won’t heal, but I think the scar suits you.”
He pulled a hand back through his full head of black hair. All the pain, the burning agony, had been worth it. Bartholomew’s healing spell had produced results that surprised even Archard. He locked his eyes on hers. “Now, the real work begins.”
“Willa?” A quiet knock sounded on Willa’s bedroom door. She paused in reaching for her bedside lamp and turned. Her mom cracked open the door, putting her head in. “Can I
come in?”
The clock read twelve-o-three. She and Simon had driven around for two hours before the quakes stopped and the Covenant gave up the fruitless search. Willa’s parents had been in bed when she came quietly into the house, a flood of relief washing over her, knowing she’d avoided talking to her mom about what she’d said earlier about moving out. Tired and ready to get a few hours of sleep before her early class, the last thing she wanted was a strained conversation with her mom. But, she hadn’t escaped as cleanly as she thought.
Willa sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She sighed and looked at her mom, “Yeah, of course.”
Sarah came in and shut the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, nervously wedging her hands between her knees. “How did things go tonight? Did you find the Dark witches?”
“No. Something is still preventing us from discovering what’s going on.” Willa yawned.
Sarah nodded slowly. “And did more people go missing?”
“Yeah. Fourteen.”
“Their poor families.”
Willa nodded. “Mom, is this really what you wanted to talk about?”
Sarah shook her head and exhaled. “No, of course not.” She looked around the dimly lit room. “Funny thing is, it wasn’t the quakes that kept me from going to sleep earlier—it was what you said about moving out.”
Willa’s chest tightened. “Okay . . .”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell your dad. He’s not ready for that.”
Willa exhaled. “Yeah, probably not.”
Sarah looked up and scooted a little closer. “I know I don’t have the right to ask you to do anything after . . . after keeping the secret of who you really are. And also since things have been so strained between us all since the fall, but . . .” She pressed her teeth together, grimaced slightly.
“What, Mom?” Willa said gently. Part of her still hated that her mom had kept the truth from her, but she was working on not being mad about it. She hated the way it felt to be mad at her mom.
After a short exhale, Sarah said, “Can you wait until the summer to move out?”
Willa blinked in surprise, not sure whether to be relieved or upset. “Why?”
“So I can work on your dad.” She gave a little smile. “Give me the next couple months to convince him that it’s okay for you to move out and live with the other witches. If you were to suddenly go now, he might say or do things he’ll regret. I don’t want him to permanently ruin your relationship with him over this—he’s already pushing it.” She reached out to put her hand on Willa’s knee. “I know that this really isn’t fair to you, but do you think you can wait? Can you be patient with us a little longer?”
A dual feeling bloomed in Willa’s chest. She understood the reason to wait, but summer seemed so far away. However, nothing in her mom’s request was unreasonable. Willa didn’t want to make things worse with her dad either. So, she could be smug and pull the guilt card on her mom, using her betrayal as an excuse not to agree, or she could do the kind, respectable thing and stay until summer. She knew Simon would tell her to stay to protect her relationship with her parents.
Sarah studied her face, waiting anxiously. Willa exhaled, “Okay. Until summer. After the semester ends.”
Her mom exhaled and released a small bubble of a laugh. “Oh, good. Thank you, Willa. Really. We are so lucky to have you as our daughter.”
Willa nodded, uncomfortable with her mom’s thanks. “But, Mom, this is something I really want and need to do. It’s not just about getting separation from you and Dad. Come summer, no matter what, I’m moving out.”
“I know,” Sarah said meekly. “And I really do understand. I think you should do it. I moved out of my house at eighteen and never looked back. I learned a lot on my own, and I want you to have those experiences too.” She chewed on her lip for a moment and then added, “What about Simon? Will he move in too or stay at his apartment?”
Willa almost lied, thinking it might make things easier, but lies like that never worked. “The room at Plate’s Place is for both of us, if we want.”
Sarah lifted her eyebrows, tried to hide her shock. She laughed, “Well, that won’t make things any easier with your dad. You know how he is—always a little traditional about things.” She looked at the bedroom door, her body shifting as if to leave. Then very quietly, she asked, “Will you get married? I know you are young, but . . . being married is a good thing. And I’ve dreamed about your wedding your whole life.”
Willa’s heart fell. She and Simon had never discussed the idea of getting married. Their bond was so strong, so complete, that a ceremony to make it official didn’t feel necessary. Did she truly want to get married, need to? She reached out to touch her mom’s arm. “Mom, we are already bound together forever. It’s different with us; we’re soul mates.”
Sarah nodded stiffly, her eyes suddenly wet. “I know. I understand that, really I do.” She tried to smile. “I just . . . it’d be so sad not to hang a picture of you in a white dress.” She looked over and then gently, hesitantly touched Willa’s hair. “With your hair down, no veil. And maybe a vintage dress? I have my Grandma Mabel’s dress in a box downstairs. She got married in like 1940, but the dress looks like it’s from the twenties. Lace and beads and . . .” Her voice trailed off, stalled by emotion.
Willa had never realized a wedding was that important to her mom. Of course, she’d also fantasized about her wedding, just like every other girl in the world—she’d never wanted a veil either—but a big traditional wedding didn’t seem to fit in with who she was now, with the covens and witchcraft. How do witches get married? she wondered. She squeezed her mom’s arm. “Grandma Mable’s dress sounds pretty.” She smiled.
Sarah smiled back, and then seriousness returned. “Willa, it’s not just about the dress and the pictures and the party.” Her face screwed up for a moment, and she bit her lower lip. “It’s about being one, being partners. My mom wasn’t very good at being a mom; but when I started high school, she sat me down to talk. It’s probably the most normal memory I have of her.” She shook her head sadly. Willa had never heard Sarah talk about her mom like this. She leaned forward, attentive.
Sarah went on. “She said something that always stuck with me, something I should have told you a long time ago, but it wouldn’t have made sense to you before now.” Sarah paused to take a breath and perhaps steady h
erself. “A marriage between soul mates is the most perfect magical circle. Find your soul mate, get married, be happy.” She caught Willa’s eyes.
Willa nodded, her heart full, and her head busy with thoughts. How could she talk to Simon about getting married now, with everything going on? Maybe by summer, by the time she could move out, things would be calmer, and they could make a decision then.
Sarah added, “Please, think about it. It’s your decision—yours and Simon’s—but thank you for waiting until summer to move out. That will help your dad and me a lot.” She reached forward and pulled Willa into a tight hug. “We love you so much. You’re truly amazing.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for coming to talk.”
Sarah stood with a tired sigh. “Get some sleep. See you in the morning.”
“Mom?” Willa said on impulse.
Sarah turned back, her hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“I know you were just trying to give me a good life. I know you didn’t tell me about the witch thing because you love me.” Emotion pulled at Willa’s heart.
Sarah blinked quickly and put a hand on her heart. “Yes,” she whispered.
Willa nodded. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me something now or have to work really hard to make up for it. And I don’t want you to think I want to move out because of what you did. We’re okay.”
Sarah half-smiled and nodded, looking relieved. A fresh sheen of tears glistened in her eyes.
“Goodnight, Mom.” Willa’s chest filled with warmth, and it surprised her how good it felt to say those things. Before she’d said them, she wasn’t sure she believed them.
Sarah exhaled. “Goodnight, baby.”
Chapter 11
Waning Gibbous
April—Present Day
When Archard’s butler brought the package to his office, he knew immediately what it was. It’d taken Rachel weeks to track down a mirror from the Dark Ages. Finally, an obscure dealer in Prague acquired one small round mirror believed to originate somewhere between 600 and 1000 A.D. She had it rush delivered, despite the small fortune it added to the cost of the mirror itself.