Tethered (A BirthRight Novel #1)

by Brandi Leigh Hall

After learning Hunter’s secrets, I suppose I’m a hypocrite for still being upset—for wondering if I’ll ever be able to trust him. No matter how you look at it, I was just as dishonest with him. So why do I still feel this way?

  I’m not upset like I was last night. The heartbroken feeling has lessened, yet I can’t ignore the lingering sadness.

  Aunt Morgan and I left the house a little while ago, so I told Hunter we’d talk later. Right now, we’re on a mission to warn Michael.

  The decision had been made—though not a unanimous one—to tell him about my vision. He needs to know what his father’s planning. Before someone gets hurt.

  I’m sure he was more than surprised when Aunt Morgan called him—but he never wavered. She said he sounded relieved to hear from her.

  I thought we might form a game plan on the drive over, but Aunt Morgan hasn’t spoken a word since we left. I can only imagine what’s going through her mind right now. By her white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, I’d say it’s good old-fashioned jitters.

  We pull up to Michael’s designated meeting place. Starbucks, of course. Seems to be the Russo hot spot.

  Her hands shake, turning the car into the parking lot.

  “Are you okay?” I’m not used to seeing her so unnerved.

  She exhales, staring straight ahead in a trance-like state. “I just don’t know how to face him now that I know the truth. It was easier when I thought I hated him. But now . . . everything’s changed.”

  Just as I open my mouth to speak, Michael taps on the driver’s side window, startling us. I follow her lead out of the car to greet him.

  “Hello, Michael. You look well.” She sounds genuine enough.

  “Hello, Morgan. You look well yourself.” He pauses, turning to me. “Hi, Chloe. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks. How about you?”

  “Well . . . maybe you should ask me after we’re done talking.” He smiles, gesturing for us to walk ahead of him.

  After ordering two Mocha Lattes and a Grande black coffee, we take a seat near the back where there’s more privacy.

  Only seconds after sitting down, Michael says, “Okay, Mo. Let me have it.”

  She shakes her head, swallowing her first sip of blistering coffee. “No, Michael. That’s not why I asked you to meet us. There’s something we need to warn you about.”

  Her concerned tone jolts him into an elbows-on-the-table position.

  “What is it? Oh god, I hope it’s not your dad? Or the boys . . . are the boys okay?” The terror in his voice matches his dilating pupils.

  “Dad and the boys are fine . . . it’s nothing like that. It’s, ah . . . well, it’s about your dad, actually.”

  “Oh. What did he do now? Or should I even ask?” He hangs his head.

  It’s clear how humiliated he is over his father. But who wouldn’t be? The man’s an embarrassment.

  “I’m not really sure how to tell you this.” She leans back in her chair, rubbing her forehead.

  Michael lifts his gaze to hers. “It’s okay, Morgan. Really. After everything I’ve heard, nothing would surprise me. Just give it to me straight.”

  Aunt Morgan squints, exposing a hint of crow’s feet. “Do you want the long or short version?”

  “Definitely the short.”

  She glances my way, then back to Michael. “Okay. Let’s just say . . . your dad came by our house last week and saw some ‘things’ he shouldn’t have. Magical things. He went to the FBI, Michael. He’s had an agent investigating us for weeks, and he told them we’re performing human sacrifices for crying out loud. When the FBI told him they’re planning to close the case, your father got pissed, and threatened to take matters into his own hands. The main reason I’m telling you this, is because of what he plans to do sometime in the near future.”

  “What do you mean? What’s he planning?” Michael asks, his voice quivering.

  “I’m not sure what it is, but he’s with Father Gabriel when it happens. But whatever it is, they cause an enormous fire that kills them both.”

  “What?” His hands fly up to press against his temples. “Wait a minute. How do you know all of this?”

  Michael stares into her pale eyes, waiting for an answer.

  Aunt Morgan turns to me, then back to Michael. “Because Chloe’s a Seer, Michael . . . and she saw everything last night. Well, not everything. She didn’t see where or when the fire takes place . . . or if anyone is there besides your dad and Father Gabriel when it happens.”

  “A Seer?” He turns to me with wide eyes. “Wow, that’s wild, Chloe. I had no idea.”

  Aunt Morgan snaps her fingers. “Michael, focus on the bigger picture. Do you think there’s any way you can get through to your father? Before things get out of control?”

  He takes a huge gulp off coffee. “I honestly have no clue. You know how he is, Morgan. And I haven’t spoken to him since the night I found out about the letters. But I could probably guess what he’s up to . . . what he’s always threatened to do if your family ever hurt anyone.”

  Oh, this can’t be good. My stomach spasms.

  “Hurt anyone? Michael, we would never hurt anyone, and you know that. He’s so clueless about who we are and what we believe.” She grips her coffee so tight the plastic lid pops off.

  “I know that, Morgan . . . but he’s a stubborn old man. And in his eyes, if you aren’t Catholic, you’re a Satan worshiper. Bottom line. There’s just no in between.” His voice gets louder, so he looks around to see if anyone’s listening.

  “So, what has he always threatened to do?” I jump in. My curiosity getting the best of me.

  Michael hesitates.

  Unease creeps up my spine.

  “Well. He always said he’d get Uncle Gabriel to perform the most powerful exorcism there is.” Embarrassment spreads across his face from his father’s ignorance.

  “An exorcism? You have got to be kidding me.” Aunt Morgan bursts into hysterical laughter.

  “I’m glad you find it so amusing.” He pauses, but then laughs himself.

  “He truly thinks we’re possessed?” She shakes her head.

  “He does. And he always has.”

  “I hope I get the chance to one day educate him,” Aunt Morgan adds with dry sarcasm.

  “I suppose I’ll need to suck it up and talk to him.” He exhales with a huff. “I had no intention of ever speaking to him again. But I also can’t let him hurt anyone. I’d never be able to live with myself if that happened.”

  “Then you’ll talk to him tonight?” I ask.

  “Of course. I’ll go there as soon as we leave. Just promise me someone will let me know if you see anything else, okay?” He looks back and forth between Aunt Morgan and me.

  “We promise. I just wish I knew how to trigger a vision. I’m really out of practice. And I never learned that part.”

  I’m such an idiot for abandoning my gift.

  Wow. Did I actually just say that?

  “My dad seriously has the FBI investigating you? Do you know for how long?” Michael rubs his eight-o’clock shadow, surprise moving back across his face.

  “Oh, yes. He called in a favor with his buddy, the Governor, and he pulled some strings. It started when he heard how sick my father was. He just assumed I’d have to come home, so he went to them right away. But not to worry though . . . it all worked out okay in the end.”

  “Well I’m glad. But speaking of your dad, how’s he doing? Has he come out of the coma yet?”

  “Oh. I guess you really haven’t talked to your parents then. Let’s just say . . . he’s made a full recovery and is already back home now.” Aunt Morgan smiles, conveying the family’s wonderful news.

  “Wait a minute. I thought he had a brain tumor and needed chemo or radiation when he woke up?” Michael seems more confused than ever, mouth gaping open.

  “True. He did.” She checks to make sure no one can hear her. “But it just so happens our Chloe here, isn’t just a
Seer . . . she’s also a Healer. The night we brought Dad home from the hospital to perform a healing ritual, is actually what your father witnessed. Only, he must have gone back home before he saw how it ended. To be honest, we didn’t even know Chloe could do this until that night. It’s all so bizarre, but I can fill you in on all the details another time.”

  “A Healer? Like the kind you see in movies?”

  “Well, for the most part, yes.” Their eyes lock for a few seconds. Aunt Morgan darts a glance at me, breaking the connection with Michael.

  “I don’t even know what to say. I’m so glad your father’s okay, Mo. You guys are something else . . . and I don’t mean that in a bad way.” He throws back another gulp of coffee.

  “I guess there’s really not much you can say. We’re blessed.” She glances back at me. “Are you about ready? We should let Michael go talk to his dad, while we go home and start practicing.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” I’m sort of looking forward to it.

  “Practice?” Michaels asks in a curious tone.

  Aunt Morgan giggles. “Yeah, my mother seems to think we’re missing a few things about our powers . . . and there has to be a way to make Chloe have a vision. So, we’re practicing.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he says.

  “Well, it should be interesting to say the least. Mom always has something up her sleeve. If you like, stop by when you’re done at your parents. You can fill us in. And the boys will be there too, and I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

  “Really?” He gulps, eyes glazing over like a donut. “Then I’ll be there for sure.”

  We get up from the table with drinks in hand. As soon as we make it to the car, Michael reaches for the handle on Aunt Morgan’s door. He pulls it open—and she hesitates—as if she wants to say something. But doesn’t.

  “Thank you, Michael,” she says almost inaudibly, leaning down into the driver’s seat.

  “So I’ll see you guys later.” Michael smiles, pushing the door shut behind her.

  There’s nothing disingenuous about this man. He’s kind, soft-spoken, and sensitive. I can see why Aunt Morgan fell for him all those years ago.

  Before we pull out, I place my hand on top of hers. “He’s a good man. I think I get it now.”

  She turns to me, her eyes filling to the rim. She sighs. “Tell me about it.”

  She puts the car in reverse, the tires squealing as she throws it back into drive to pull out.

  On the ride back home, I’d have to say she looks relieved by our visit, sitting more relaxed behind the wheel. It’s nice seeing a smile on her lovely face again. Even an unexpected one.

  When we make it back to the house, Ash, Aidan, and Pap greet us, sitting on the porch enjoying the perfect evening, Sinatra filling the air as they read the New York Times. It had been raining a lot lately, so they’re taking advantage of the peacefulness before the next storm blows in.

  “So, how’d it go?” Aidan asks, apprehension coating his alto voice.

  Aunt Morgan sits on the railing across from him. “It went as well as can be expected, I guess. Michael didn’t plan to speak to his father again, but he agreed he doesn’t really have a choice. He should be there any minute.”

  We all turn to look at the Russo house.

  “Will he let you know how it goes?” Ash asks.

  “He’ll come over when he’s done. We should cross our fingers it goes well.” Aunt Morgan’s hands shake, staring across the street.

  I wish she’d talk about what’s on her mind—what she’s going through.

  “Where’s Gram?” I look to Pap.

  “Oh, she’s in the back getting ready to help you work on those visions of yours. She has some crazy ideas in her head. If you ask me, she’s a little too excited to dig into your mind for bad news.” Pap scowls.

  “I don’t think she’s excited for the bad news, Pap. She’s excited to help my ability grow. You know how she is about magic.”

  “I guess so,” he says. But he still looks annoyed with his face scrunched up.

  “It’ll be okay, Pap. Just have a little faith.” I bend down, kissing him on the forehead.

  “Come on, Chloe. Let’s go find your gram,” Aunt Morgan announces, disappearing into the house.

  The second we walk through the kitchen door, the sweet sound of Gram’s singing permeates through the air. As we enter her restored botanical sanctuary, I notice she’s surrounded herself with candles, incense, and pacifying music I can’t quite place. Makes me wanna curl up and take a nap.

  I forgot just how peaceful her sunroom is. Most of the outer walls of the room are glass, all twenty by twenty feet of it, as well as the ceiling. The center of the room has a large island where she does most of her work. And along the walls are shelves that take up the entire length and width of the room, standing about six feet high, overgrown with various herbs and plants. But in the far corner rests Gram’s pride and joy, which we all know better than to ever touch: her spectacular pink and white Lotus flower pond. It’s truly exquisite.

  As I admire the cheerful room that used to fascinate me as a child, I notice she moved a chaise along the inside wall. Behind it sits a long sofa table blanketed with dozens of vanilla candles.

  I know what she’s up to, but I decide to mess with her a little at first. “You trying to set the mood for you and Pap, or what? We’d be more than happy to leave you guys with an empty house tonight so you can get your groove on. I’m sure it’s been a while. You know, since he’s been sick and all.” Aunt Morgan and I snicker, watching a delightful blush form on Gram’s cheeks. Something that rarely ever happens.

  “Don’t get fresh with me, dear. I can still put you over my knee.” She sends us a coy smile, then turns to close the Book of Shadows she’d so diligently been reading when we walked in. “So how’d it go with Michael?”

  “It went well. He’s probably across the street talking to his father at this very moment.”

  “Then we should cross our legs and eyes and hope he’s able to get through to that stubborn old fart.” We laugh at her callow attitude.

  “He’ll be over when they’re done talking, so I’m not sure how much time we have right now.” Aunt Morgan pulls out her cell phone from her purse to check the time.

  Gram points to the chaise. “Then we’d better get a move on, dear.”

  “Yeah, I had a feeling that was for me. Nice touch, Gram.”

  “I do what I can, dear. Now put a sock in it and make yourself comfortable.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I raise my hand in a limp military salute.

  “Just take a few minutes to close your eyes and get relaxed. Focus on the music.”

  As I sit down and stretch out, they both grab chairs and sit on either side of me.

  Even though I had my doubts about this little experiment, there’s no reason not to try. But any time I attempt to call back a vision—I’m never able to. So I’m not sure what we can do differently this time to make it happen.

  “Okay, Chloe. I want you to think about Mr. Russo. Think about how upset he was that day. Feel his emotions the same way you did. Take it into yourself and try to allow those feelings to become your own. Tell me what you see?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing, really. I only see the same things I did that day. There’s nothing new.”

  “That’s okay, dear. Just keep feeling those emotions. Remember how angry he was . . . and how unbelievably frightened he became when he saw us through the windows. Imagine you feel panic in your chest the same way he did. Do you see anything now?”

  “No, Gram . . . nothing. I told you before I’ve never been able to do this. It just might not work that way for me.” Even though deep down I hope I’m wrong.

  “Wait a minute,” Aunt Morgan says, “what if we’re looking at this the wrong way. Bear with me for a moment, but Chloe, didn’t you say you’d never had a vision before where you became another person? This was the first time it ever happened, right?”
>
  “Yes, that’s true. In my vision, I’m either myself, or I’m just seeing what happens to someone else. I’ve never gone into another person’s body and mind to experience it the way they did.”

  “Okay. So maybe, just maybe, the only reason you had this particular vision in that fashion was because you were meant to understand how Mr. Russo felt. The beginning of your vision you said he was filled with remorse. But then it was replaced by fear and anger. Maybe you were just meant to know how he was feeling, and why.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like a logical theory,” Gram adds.

  “So, if that’s the case, we shouldn’t be trying to take Chloe back to the emotions she felt in the vision . . . we should be taking her back to where it left off . . . with the fire. Maybe she should just try focusing on the visual aspect, not the emotional.”

  “You know . . . you might be on to something. So let’s give this another shot. Gram, what do you think?” I ask, noticing her staring off somewhere.

  “Oh, absolutely. Morgan’s right. If that’s not how your visions work, we shouldn’t be trying to tap into it. Makes perfect sense.” Gram rubs her hands together. “Okay, Chloe. Close your eyes again. Try to remember exactly where Mr. Russo was when you last saw him. You said you only saw him speaking to Father Gabriel, so take yourself back to those last few moments.

  “Focus on everything you see.

  “Your surroundings.

  “What they were doing.

  “Try to focus on where they are.

  “What do you see now, dear?”

  I take myself back to the vision for a minute. “I still only see the two of them talking.”

  “Tell me what you see around them? Describe the room?”

  “Well, it’s sort of dark. There’s candles lighting the room, but it’s still hard to see. I can make out a large unlit fireplace behind them, and what looks to be a wall of books. It might be a library, but not a real one. It’s like the kind someone has in their home.”

  “Wait a minute,” Aunt Morgan chimes in, “that sounds an awful lot like the Russo’s house across the street. I remember being in their den years ago, and there are two walls of nothing but books.”

  “What else can you see?” asks Gram.

  “Well, there’s ladders in the room . . . like maybe they’re painting the walls or something. I can’t really see anything else. It’s too dark to focus in on small details.”

  “That’s okay, dear. Is this the same thing you saw the other night, or is this new?”

  “No, it’s not new. It’s the same thing I saw before . . . only now I’m paying attention to the background, instead of the people.”

  “That’s good. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Take everything in. Perhaps when you’ve been able to pick up on all the details, your vision will continue.”

  “But there’s nothing else around them I can see. But Father Gabriel on the other hand looks pissed. He’s arguing with Mr. Russo. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying, but it’s as if someone has turned the volume down. They’re muffled . . . like they’re far away. I’m sorry, Gram. I can’t see anything else. It won’t show me anything new.” Damn it, this is so frustrating!

  “It’s okay, dear, you’re doing great. So far, we’ve nailed down the location. Now all we need is to figure out when this happens. Just take a break for a few minutes then we’ll try again.” Gram sends me a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t do much for my confidence. I hate disappointing them.

  Perhaps this is my punishment for ignoring my visions for so many years. My inability to face my fears might have been at the expense of others, all these years later.

  As the three of us sit in silence thinking, a male voice calls out. “Hello? Morgan? Aurora? Chloe? Where are you hiding?”

  “We’re back here, Michael! In the sunroom!” Aunt Morgan shouts.

  A few seconds later, he appears in the doorway wearing a furrowed brow. An expression I’ve only recently seen him wear, which can only mean it didn’t go well with his father.

  “Hello, ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Sam said you’d want to see me right away.”

  “He was right. How did it go with your father, dear?”

  “To be honest, it didn’t go well at all. I’ve never met a more stubborn man in my life. I tried and tried to get through to him, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted what he saw that night proves everything he’s ever believed about you. And he’s determined to stop you from hurting other people—or yourselves.” Michael runs his hands through his already messed up hair. “I even tried to tell him about the fire, but he just thinks that’s a story you guys made up, just to stop him from doing what needs to be done.”

  “You tried, Michael, that’s all you could do.” Aunt Morgan places her hand on his arm, a polite gesture for most, but a huge step for her. “Did you tell your mother?”

  “Yeah. I talked to her afterwards. You have to know, she’s not of the same mind as my father. True, she’s supported him over the years because she felt it was her duty, but not anymore. She believes me when I tell her the kind of people you are . . . and she’s never thought you were evil like my father did. She wanted to make sure I passed the information along.”

  “That’s very sweet of her, dear. Please tell her we said ‘thank you’. It means a lot that she believes us.” Gram gives Michael a somewhat uneasy smile, which only makes me nervous.

  “Michael.” I pause. “Are your parents doing any remodeling in their den right now?”

  “Uh, as a matter a fact, they are. Not just the den though, they’re re-painting the entire house. They’ve had a painting crew in over the last few days. Why do you ask?”

  “Right before you got here, we figured out the fire we told you about might happen across the street. Now I know for sure it definitely is.”

  “Are you serious? Oh man, this isn’t good.” The fear in Michael’s voice grows by the second. “I really need to figure out how to stop my father.”

  “What’s that in your hand, Michael?” Aunt Morgan asks, noticing him fidget with something shiny.

  “Oh.” He glances down. “My father gave me this before I left . . . to protect me. This is his most cherished possession. His Rosary Beads. Beautiful, aren’t they?” He holds the amber beads in the air, allowing the dangling gold cross to sway back and forth, sparkling in the candlelight.

  Gram nods. “They’re lovely, dear.”

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Aunt Morgan holds out her hand towards Michael. “May I?”

  “Um, if you insist.” He hands the beads over.

  Right away, I know just what she’s thinking. “Fantastic idea!”

  She winks, holding the beads in the palm of her hand. Her eyes close. I bet she’s replaying the last moments Michael shared with his father.

  I reach up, laying my hand upon hers for support. I know this won’t be an easy thing to see, especially if he talks smack about the family.

  The second my hand meets hers—I’m jolted with a surge of energy.

  Without warning, the vision we’ve been so desperate for me to receive, begins playing.

  Mr. Russo’s in the den with Father Gabriel.

  They’re arguing about whether or not they should perform the exorcism in this house with the children sleeping upstairs.

  Father Gabriel doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but Mr. Russo thinks the house is the safest place for his family.

  I hear crying in the background.

  It’s Mrs. Russo.

  She sounds heartbroken.

  Father Gabriel gives in to his brother, walking to the doorway to tell the others they’re ready to begin.

  Seven people come walking into the room, but I only recognize Mrs. Russo and her daughter Natalia.

  Father Gabriel stands in the center of the heavily candlelit room. A bible in one hand. Crucifix in the other.

  The remaining seven people form a circle around him.

  Once they’re in place, Fa
ther Gabriel crosses himself then begins to speak. “In the name of God, whose nature is forever merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that these servants of yours, the Crawford’s, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness.”

  A thunderous sound shakes the entire house along with its contents.

  They’re frightened, but Father Gabriel continues. “Depart, then, impious one, depart, accursed one, depart with all your deceits, for God has willed that man should be his temple.”

  The windows rattle and the licking flames on the candles reach out, growing hundreds of beast-like tentacles.

  The terrifying scene works at Father Gabriel’s resolve.

  In a panicked voice, he instructs everyone to recite The Lord’s Prayer with him.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven,

  hallowed be thy name;

  thy kingdom come;

  thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

  Give us this day our daily bread;

  and forgive us our trespasses

  as we forgive those who trespass against us;

  and lead us not into temptation,

  but deliver us from evil.

  “Deliver us, Lord, from every evil,

  and grant us peace in our day.

  In your mercy keep us free from sin

  and protect us from all anxiety

  as we wait in joyful hope

  for the coming of our savior, Jesus Christ.

  “Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles,

  I leave you peace, my peace I give to you.

  Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church,

  and grant us the peace and unity of your kingdom

  where you live forever and ever. Amen.”

  Father Gabriel crosses himself again. “Be gone, demons. Leave the Crawford family and this land. Damn ye back to hell where ye came from!”

  The tentacles from the candles reach out, grabbing hold of the walls in ravenous pursuit.

  Upon contact, the entire room lights up in a blazing inferno.

  Within seconds, the flames are everywhere—trapping everyone inside its impenetrable cage.

  I hear the painful screams pleading for help. The excruciating sounds seem to make the flames hungry with need.

  Within seconds, the entire side of the house is ablaze.

  They’re dying.

  Father Gabriel. Mr. and Mrs. Russo. Their daughter and her husband. The four visitors. And the children who are sound asleep upstairs.

  Then the vision stops.

  My heart pounds with so much force, I swear it might break through my ribs.

  “Chloe, are you okay?” Aunt Morgan asks, rubbing my hand still holding hers.

  “Yeah. I’m okay. Just a bit shaken. I saw it. I saw it all.” My voice is shaky. So is my head.

  “I know. I saw it too,” says Aunt Morgan, in the same frightened voice as my own.

  As the words resonate, I search her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “When I held onto the Rosary Beads, I started to see things about Michael’s father. But then you touched my hand and I went to the future right along with you. Somehow, our powers linked together. I targeted Mr. Russo from the past, but you were able to link-in and jump to his future. It was incredible . . . but awful because of what happens.”

  “Will one of you please fill us in on what you saw?” Gram’s agitated voice makes me jump.

  Oh god, I’ve never been good at conveying bad news. You can do this, Chloe. I take a deep breath, making eye contact with Michael. “Well, your father is going to hold an exorcism at his house, like you said, sometime tomorrow. I didn’t recognize four of the people, but Natalia and her husband will be there with the children. While they’re upstairs sleeping, the rest are downstairs performing the ritual. From what I could tell, things start going crazy and the candles they have lighting the room end up catching the entire place on fire. The fresh paint must make it extremely flammable.”

  “What? I told him not to use oil-based paint and stain. Damn it!” His eyes open wide. “Please tell me they get out okay?” Michael’s face turns white, paralyzed with fear.

  “I’m so sorry, Michael.” Aunt Morgan’s voice cracks, eyes glazing over in remembrance of what she’d seen. “Unless we figure out a way to stop them, they all die in the fire.”

  He shakes his head. “No. This can’t happen. There must be a way to stop him. Are you sure it happens tomorrow night?” Michael’s fretful eyes dart back and forth between us.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I answer. “I don’t know how I know, I just know.” Even though this isn’t what he wants to hear, I have to be honest. I can’t help but wish I didn’t.

  Gram gets up, pacing across the pewter slate tiles. “Michael, you must try again with your parents. Do whatever you can. If you’re not able to convince him to not go through with this, then we need to figure out a way to save them before it’s too late.”

  He holds his palm to his forehead. “Okay. I’ll try. I’ll also call my sister and tell her to stay home with Emma and Isabelle.”

  “Do what you can.” Gram hugs him with genuine tenderness. “Don’t worry, dear. No one will get hurt. I promise.”

  “But on a positive note . . . at least now we know what Mom meant by us using our powers together.” No matter how bad the situation, it feels good knowing I can make a vision happen—if I need to.

  “That is a good thing,” Gram replies. “I’m sure it’ll be very useful when we understand how to use it. But right now, we need to come up with a plan. And it will take all of us to do it.”

  Without giving it another seconds thought, I text Hunter with a nine-one-one, asking him to come over ASAP.

  Once everyone’s together, we work with Michael and Hunter to form a back-up plan for tomorrow night.

  This whole thing is partly our fault—so we have to make it right.

  Chapter 20

  THE BOTCHED EXORCISM