Casters Series Box Set

by Norah Wilson

  “You wear that rose quartz over your heart every day,” Maryanne said. “You feel a degree of comfort when you wear it, right?”

  “Well, right…but that’s different.”

  “How?” Brooke asked.

  “It’s from an old friend, Anika.”

  Maryanne was glad Alex couldn’t see her grinning. The good vibes Alex got from the necklace weren’t just because it was a gift from her Halifax friend. Rose quartz was also a stone of love. And peace.

  “Think about this,” she said. “You say that the stone is special, but that its comfort comes from Anika giving it to you. And I have no doubt that her affection, her good will, plays a part in it. Absolutely. I bet she put her loving energy into it when she picked it out and bought it for you. As she packaged it up and sent it. I don’t doubt that a bit. So maybe this rose quartz was infused by her loving gesture.”

  “Okay,” Alex said, but hesitantly. “You’ve just proven my point.”

  “Well, I kind of proved my point too. Or the one I’m going to make. What if many, many people infused rose quartz? All rose quartz. What if thousands, millions of people determined that specific kind of stone symbolized love and peace? Acted as if it was. Treated it that way. The stone was receptive to this infusion—this giving—because it really was a stone of love and peace to begin with. Rose quartz emits love and peace so strongly because it receives it, has received it over time. And it receives it—received it in the first place—because it embodied those feelings already. It’s cyclic. It gives, it takes. It takes, it gives.”

  “So what you’re saying,” Brooke said, “is that it’s…it’s like a door that swings both ways? A portal. One that can give and take the same kind of energy.”

  “Exactly.” Maryanne smiled, and this time she wished her casting sisters could see it. She’d arrived at this theory of hers after pondering the properties of different crystals. She’d never really voiced it to anyone besides Grandmother Beach, who’d completely agreed with her. Now, to hear Brooke sum it up like that…

  “Cool,” Alex said. “Energy in and energy out. I never would have thought about it like that.” After a thoughtful pause, she added, “You’re really sensitive to these stones, aren’t you?”

  “Big time,” she said. “I can really, really feel their energies. Even feel what they’re trying to say.”

  Oh crap, had she said that out loud? Feeling their energies was one thing. To admit she felt what it was they were trying to say? That was another thing altogether. One she’d never spoken of, not even to Grandmother Beach. She grimaced, waiting for the words of doubt from her friends, if not outright derision.

  They didn’t come.

  “But not everyone believes in the powers of those stones,” Alex said. “Wouldn’t that make them less powerful?”

  Detecting nothing but curiosity in Alex’s tone, Maryanne relaxed. “Not everyone believes in casters. We’re no less powerful because of it. No less real.”

  On that note, Maryanne withdrew herself from the revolving circle, and Brooke and Alex backed away from it too. She was pleased with herself. Pleased she’d spoken her truth. She looked fondly at the kyanite and could almost swear it was kind of pleased too.

  “Time to get to work,” she said.

  With the copper knife, she moved the kyanite aside once again and pulled the grimoire out.

  A little niggling of guilt stirred as she touched the little book. She was still keeping the fact that she’d taken the grimoire from Bryce. That seemed…wrong, especially now that he’d brought her all Vesta’s stones, and given—yes, given—her his grandmother’s hagstone. She’d been telling herself that the decision to hide it from him really wasn’t up to her alone, but rested with all three of them. And the others didn’t trust him. Not really.

  Then after last night…

  Did she believe Bryce’s excuse? That he’d shot wide on purpose? And that he hadn’t used the ammo with the iron pellets? That he’d let the Dobermans out knowing full well that they’d not track them down?

  “Yes, I believe him. But still…”

  “But still, he’s a Walker.”

  Okay, so talking out loud was still her worst habit. And clearly, Brooke had no trouble figuring out what she was talking about.

  Maryanne sighed. “Am I that transparent?”

  “Dude, you’re a caster,” Alex said. “The last thing you are is transparent.”

  That was all it took.

  They broke into fits of laughter. Tension-releasing, giddy laughter, like teenaged girls who’d stayed up way too late at night. Or casters who needed the sleep of day just as desperately.

  Yet, sleep would have to wait just a little while longer, because Vesta’s grimoire couldn’t.

  When the laughter had died down, Maryanne said, “While you two got rid of the spiders, I followed the tracks on the pages. It’s more complicated than it looks. So many sets circle back on themselves. Or make no sense at all. Vesta worked hard to keep her secrets secret. It’s hard to follow.”

  “So did you find anything?” Alex asked.

  “I did.” Maryanne turned toward Alex. “I found another verse. I really didn’t get it until Bryce gave me the hagstone.”

  “That rock, you mean? The one on the cord he put around your neck?”

  “Yeah. It’s kind of a witch thing. It’s supposed to aid in spell work and visions and such. Anyway, my mind was reeling with all of Vesta’s twists and turns. But then, when he settled that hagstone on me, it just seemed to click.”

  “Oh shit!” Brooke shot up then down again. “Then read it to us.”

  “I don’t have to read it to you, and besides it isn’t on one single page. But I’ve got it memorized.”

  Maryanne began, the words barely spilling out before they seemed to take over. They didn’t want to be spoken; these words demanded to be chanted.

  One who watches over and one who watches out.

  One who knows the stories is one who has the doubt.

  Two have the power; but there may be more!

  Hurry, when she sees you, go through the door.

  Brooke broke the silence that ensued. “Okay, so there are two people? Is that it?”

  “Could be two,” Alex said. “Oh crap, it could be four. What kind of power?”

  “What do you think, Maryanne?” Brooke asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t had time to chew on that. For all we know, maybe it’s just one person who does all that stuff, the watching over, the watching out, the doubting. And who the heck is she?”

  “But there’s a ‘door’,” Alex said. “Where the heck is it?”

  “A physical door? A figurative one?” Maryanne opened her hands in a questioning gesture.

  “Do you think it could be…” Brooke let her words trail off, but Maryanne knew what she was thinking.

  The same thing they all were thinking—could it be a door back to themselves?

  Suddenly, she felt the heaviness completely. It pushed through her as daylight seeped further into the cave, casting a definite line on the floor. She found herself moving back from it, as were Brooke and Alex. “Guys, we have to rest. Have to.”

  No one argued the point.

  “We’ll take turns again,” Alex said. “But I think you two should go first. Both of you, while I keep watch. Then when you’re up, I’ll rest.”

  Maryanne and Brooke both shrugged. Why not? They’d all entered the caster ‘rest’ before. They all knew what to expect now.

  As Maryanne and Brooke moved toward the pile of copper, Alex went to the cave’s entrance. She stood off the side, out of the direct rays of the sun, but looking out.

  “What are you doing?” Brooke asked.

  “I just want to keep watch. Make sure we’re safe. Make sure no one is—omigod!”

  Maryanne’s heart leapt into her throat. “What?”

  “The ice.” Alex’s voice choked with emotion. “Something’s going on with the freaki
n’ ice!”

  Chapter 13

  Do You See What I See?

  Brooke

  Alex and Maryanne soared out into the sapping sun to get a closer look at the pond, but Brooke darted further into the cave. She had something to take care of before she could join them.

  At Alex’s excited announcement, Brooke’s original had reacted. Her body had tightened—her shoulders jumped, legs clenched, then relaxed. Even her head seemed to pull back against the thin pillow Bryce had placed under it. And her right hand, the one that had been fisted at her side so long, unclenched, dropping its contents.

  Brooke picked up her original’s hand and used it to scoop up its treasure again, folding it back into that cool palm. Even after the secret was secured again, she held that hand a moment longer. Held it with a sadness that was becoming more and more concrete…

  “Brooke, get out here!” Maryanne called from outside, her voice bursting not just with urgency, but with excitement. “You’ve got to see this!”

  Tucking her original’s hand back against her side, Brooke went to investigate. And holy crap! There definitely was something going on with the ice.

  The cracks she’d made yesterday when she’d broken through the ice were still there, but the dark lines were spreading, thickening in places, and—holy hell!—they were taking a shape! Forming an image—a picture—in the frozen canvas.

  Not just any picture…

  How long would that picture hold?

  There was barely any snow left anywhere in Mansbridge. Soon not even the shade of the mountain and pines would be enough to sustain the cover of ice on the little pond. Or sustain those dark, segmenting lines.

  A booming crack sounded and another fissure formed right before her eyes. But it wasn’t some random crack. The ice portrait was continuing to evolve! Another piece of the picture. It chilled her to the depth of her being. Hell, both of her beings. How could this be happening?

  “Do you guys see what I see?” Brooke croaked.

  “I…I think so,” Maryanne said.

  Alex was quiet a moment before she nodded. “It’s…it’s going to be her.”

  “It’s trying to be her,” Maryanne said.

  It was the beautiful Madonna from the window of Harvell House taking shape on the ice. The same one that Brooke, Maryanne and Alex had stood before so many times while they begged for release. The same Madonna that Connie Harvell had cried to, and escaped through, all those decades ago. She was there, exactly as she had been in the window of Harvell House, right down to the last detail. The mother and her child. Except for the complete, empty darkness of her wide eyes, the mother still looked serene, despite the fact that she was standing on a bed of thorns, feet bloodied, while holding her child protectively.

  “This is insane!” Alex said. “Unbelievable.”

  “Like feelings from crystals,” Maryanne said.

  “Or casters that fly through the night?” Brooke added. “I think we’re well beyond what’s believable and what isn’t.”

  “I think we circled back and kicked believable’s arse up to its elbows!” Maryanne said.

  Brooke and Alex both turned at her.

  “Oh please don’t tell me I said that out loud,” Maryanne said. “That’s one of Bryce’s sayings. You see, he’s kind of—”

  “Say no more,” Alex said. “You had me at ‘arse’.”

  Despite the heaviness out in the daylight hours and their desperate need for rest—or perhaps because of it—they were suddenly laughing again.

  But Brooke knew her giddiness wasn’t just over what had been said. It was about the picture forming before them. The hope forming before them. And before she knew what she was saying, before she knew what she was doing, and certainly before she knew why, Brooke began the chant: “Water blessed can make one well…”

  But her voice rang out alone for only a matter of seconds before Maryanne and Alex joined in.

  “But lasts not long before back to hell. Fly with the silver, cry with the gleam! Not from the river, ocean, or stream.”

  Brooke drew a shuddering, happy breath. “This is it! This is the water blessed.”

  “It has to be,” Brooke agreed. “With the Madonna, the baby—”

  “We fly with the silver—the moon,” said Alex. “But cry with the gleam? What’s that supposed to—”

  At that exact moment, the sun broke from behind a cloud, the gleam of it bright on the pond’s icy surface.

  “Cry with the gleam,” Alex said grimly. “It’s melting. The ice is melting with the sun. It won’t last long before…”

  “Back to hell,” Brooke said. “We haven’t much time.”

  “Well, then, we’ll shoot up through it now!” Maryanne said, her tone anxious, yet she hesitated.

  “I already did that, remember?” Brooke grimaced. “It didn’t work.”

  “But the picture’s here now,” Maryanne said.

  “But there’s more to it, something else is needed,” Alex said. “The picture’s not ready.”

  Slightly, yet significantly, Maryanne moved back.

  “But we’re closer,” Brooke said. She moved slowly, horizontally over the ice. Her sisters joined her above the pond’s small surface. They cast no shadows down.

  “It looks like a coloring book,” Alex said, referring to the dark lines on the gray ice.

  Strangely, it did.

  “Like it’s waiting for color. Crayons,” Brooke said. “Or paint from an artist’s pallet.”

  All three stopped at once. “Yes,” Maryanne said. “It’s waiting for every color of the rainbow.”

  Chapter 14

  Roll Over

  Brooke

  Brooke and Maryanne awoke at almost the exact same time, and now it was Alex’s chance to sleep, or rest, or whatever the hell it was they did in caster form. Brooke felt less heavy now. And soon, when night came, she’d feel stronger. For now, all she really felt was disturbed by what had happened in the last little while.

  She had dreamed. Vividly.

  “Guess dreaming just isn’t a caster thing,” Maryanne had said. She stretched herself awake, drifting away from the copper resting place. As she moved out, Alex moved in, settled on the ‘bed’.

  “I haven’t dreamed yet either,” Alex said. “Not in caster consciousness, anyway.”

  Brooke said nothing. Partly because she didn’t want to admit how, once more, she stood alone on this. But mostly because the dream had been just that damn terrifying.

  She’d dreamed she was a little girl, lost in the woods. She didn’t dare cry out for fear the other children—and there’d been many!—would find her and hurt her, the way they always hurt her. It was the Mansbridge woods. She knew it was, but she didn’t know why or how.

  So in her dream she’d run past the trees—no wait, she’d soared through the trees—trying to find her way out of them before the bad thing got her. Trying to find her way to…where?

  That was the most terrifying part of the whole dream. She wasn’t at all sure where she was trying to get to, even as she’d raced in panic and kept the cries inside. Because they’d hurt her if they caught her. She’d known for sure they would.

  “Coming, Brooke?” Maryanne spoke in a hushed whisper, even though it was unlikely Alex, who was resting heavily now, would be disturbed by their talking.

  Brooke joined Maryanne by the candle, where she was sorting through some of Vesta’s crystals.

  “This red is exactly the same shade as the Madonna’s lips were in the stained glass,” Maryanne said. With the copper knife, she tipped a small stone apart from the rest. “Don’t you think?”

  Brooke studied the small stone. “You’re right. Is that red jasper?”

  “No, this is carnelian, a stone of courage,” Maryanne answered.

  “We need it,” Brooke said.

  “The stone or the courage?”

  “Both.”

  Maryanne nodded, “I know we will.”

  Brooke said nothin
g as Maryanne poked aside a few more pieces of red stone.

  Brooke looked over at the black emptiness of Alex on the copper bed. She looked at Maryanne, bent over the precious stones.

  Courage. The courage of red carnelian. Yes, they’d need it.

  Maryanne had no idea.

  “Here,” Maryanne said suddenly. With the blade of the knife, she maneuvered another red stone her way. It lay on the cave floor between them.

  “What’s this?” Brooke asked. It wasn’t carnelian.

  “Garnet,” Maryanne replied. She lowered her head and returned to sorting the carnelian. “Grandmother Beach called it a friendship stone.”

  Chapter 15

  Jiggity

  Alex

  It was nighttime. Alone, Alex glided low as she moved down the mountain, over the trees. As she glided, she heard—no, revelled in—the sounds of deer and other animals scattering at her approach, crashing through the low branches and bushes in their frantic attempt to get out of her way.

  She was a caster, and they were terrified of her. Even after all this time, that still thrilled her. She didn’t even try to hide it. She knew that power thrilled Brooke and Maryanne too. Not that they sought out animals to terrorize and chase. Well, not anymore. Nor did they seek people for the same purpose. But those who sought them? Those who tried to hurt her or Brooke or Maryanne? God help them.

  She flew faster.

  For the most part, the sky was clouded over, making the bright moon look like a hazy ghost except when the wind blew the cloud cover away. Then the moon shone full and beautiful. It was amazing in a way she’d come to realize could only be fully appreciated by a caster.

  Well, casters and writers, maybe. She was both.

  Fly with the silver? She sure as hell would! Alex pressed on toward Mansbridge.

  Soon the town below her was dotted with well-lit houses. In some houses, the lights blazed in every window, even though it was after midnight. Chances were most of those folks hadn’t just snapped the light on to stumble down the hall for a pee. Alex knew that if she flew low enough, she’d see other things in those windows and on the doors. Iron things.