“How is this possible?” Elliot asks. “You were dead. They found you—”
“No,” she says firmly, finally seeming to shake free of her shock. “That’s what they wanted you to believe. A convenient lie to keep people from searching for loved ones. I left.”
He takes a step backward, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I… I can’t…”
What he can’t do he can’t even voice. Without another word, Elliot rushes from the store, being sure to give Anya a wide berth as he passes.
The door is not even closed when I cross to Anya. “What just happened?”
She wipes a shaky hand down her face. Her complexion is blanched. “I knew him. A long time ago.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. How? He’s one of Seth’s agents. And then there was the girl…” I tilt my head to the side, studying Anya’s face—the shape, the way her hair falls, the shade of her eyes. So similar…
“The girl. Was her name Sasha?”
I nod. “How did you know?”
She squeezes her eyes closed for a beat. “If Elliot’s here, it makes sense that she would be, too. They were forever forcing the two of them together.” Her lips quirk up in a humorless smile. “The great hope for the future. The strongest witch and psychic in generations. Harbingers of a new era.”
She’s lost in her own thoughts now, but I have questions I want answered. “Anya. How do you know Sasha and Elliot?”
Her eyes fix on my face and widen slightly, like she’s surprised to find me still standing there. “She was so sweet. Used to bring me wildflowers all summer.”
“Anya,” I snap, impatient.
“She’s my sister,” she whispers. “And Elliot spent so much time at my house he was like a brother. And I haven’t seen either of them in thirteen years. Not since the day I walked away from the Devoted.”
Chapter Sixteen
My mind reels from Anya’s admission. She was part of the Devoted? And she didn’t think that was important for the rest of us to know? “Does my dad know?”
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Yes, of course he does.”
I wait for her to go on, but she’s distracted. Her mind is spinning at a million miles a second—far too fast for me to keep up with the pinwheel of emotions. She’s trying to process, attempting to rectify the memory of her sister with the image of a torturer. I should give her some space to work through things, but I’m too angry. I’m not getting the full story here. I’m being treated like a child who can’t handle all the facts, and I’m sick of it. I’m not a little kid—I’ve faced more than either she or my dad is giving me credit for. “So, what? You didn’t think that bit of information was important enough to share?”
“We figured if you knew, you wouldn’t trust me.”
I snort. “It’s too late for that.”
“What’s going on out here?” Dad’s voice is tentative, like he’s not sure what he’s stepped in to.
“Oh, Ben!” Anya rushes past me, straight into my father’s arms. He folds her close to him, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. I chafe at the intimate, familiar way he holds her. Doesn’t he realize I’m standing right here? How can he not have an inkling how unsettled their closeness makes me?
“What is it?” he asks, tone low with concern.
“Sasha,” she whispers. “She’s here—in Clearwater.”
“Apparently her little sister’s studied up on torture since she’s been gone,” I call, louder than is strictly necessary. “Does Mom know about Anya’s past?” I’m positive I already know the answer to this one: Dad’s already keeping so much about everything that’s going on from her, I can’t imagine he’d have told her about Anya’s link to the Devoted. But that’s not my purpose in invoking her name. In this moment, I simply want to remind my dad of his wife, the one who stayed true to him for five years while he was away. Can the same be said for him?
Dad and Anya separate and he crosses to me. “The more your mom knows, the more danger she’s in.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me? Because, I don’t know if you noticed, but I seem to be in danger no matter what.”
Dad strokes my upper arm. “Honey, do you think I don’t know that? Do you think it doesn’t kill me that I couldn’t protect you from what happened yesterday?”
His tenderness does nothing to curb my mood. “Maybe if you’d told me about Anya’s past, about Sasha and Elliot, I wouldn’t’ve been fooled yesterday—have you thought about that?”
“It hasn’t left my mind since I saw Elliot in here,” murmurs Anya, even though I wasn’t talking to her. “Krissa, I don’t know if you can forgive me—”
“Yeah, me either,” I grumble.
Dad gives me a sharp look but I ignore him. If he can choose to keep secrets, choose to comfort a woman who’s not his wife, I can choose not to care if he’s disappointed in my behavior.
“Sometimes I think you’re under the impression I’m still twelve, but guess what? I’m not. You say when you left it was to keep me safe, but you need to understand I’ve gone through things since you’ve been gone, and I’ve managed to get through them without your help. If you think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark about what your plans are, you’re wrong. If the last twenty-four hours have shown you anything, it’s that I’m in danger no matter what. Let me help. It’s time you start seeing me for the person I am, not the one you remember.” The words that have been building inside me for the last several days tumble out in a rush. Just as Dad needs to see me for who I am now, I need to see him for the same. He’s not the man I remember, not exactly, and I don’t know what’s changed because he won’t tell me. He’s trying to preserve our father-daughter relationship, but it’s not working because that’s not what we are right now. We’re partners in a struggle to save this town from Seth and his plans. We can’t continue to pretend otherwise.
Dad opens his mouth to respond, and before the words are even out I sense what he’ll say: He has a plan, I need to trust him, it’s better this way. But before he can speak, Anya cuts him off.
“You’re right. In fact, that’s the reason I stopped by to begin with. I need your help—the circle’s help.” Her eyes flicker to my dad as he shifts uncomfortably. “I’ve been trying to do something on my own, but time really is of the essence. If we want our plan to work, I’ll need assistance. Do you think you can get your friends to meet at your house after school?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Depends. Are you going to tell us what we’re helping you with and why?”
Dad sucks in a breath. “Now, young lady—”
Anya talks over him. “Yes. I think it’s time you know everything.”
***
A few hours later, the whole circle is gathered in the living room at Jodi’s house. We’ve met here so often lately, we’re starting to carve out our preferred spots: West, Bria, and Felix share the couch nearest the hallway while Lexie, Crystal, and Bridget claim the adjacent one; Tucker sits in the armchair; Owen, Fox, Dad, Anya, and I sit on transplanted dining room chairs spread around the room.
Griffin is the last to arrive. When I first send him a text about the meeting, he complained about having to leave work early, saying if he lost his job it would be on my head. I’m not entirely sure, but I think I may have earned some good will when I suggested he tap into some of West’s psychic abilities to convince his boss it was his own idea to let Griffin go before his shift ended. Now he shoots Tucker a dirty look for having claimed the armchair as he settles on the remaining dining room chair to Anya’s right.
The idle chatter in the room dissipates and all eyes shift to Anya. She promised to tell us the plan for defeating Seth and the wait is making me antsy. She left the shop soon after agreeing to do it, so I wasn’t able to press her for details. I could’ve asked my dad, but his energy toward me has been tense and guarded and I doubt he’d have given anything away.
Even Dad’s eyes flicker to Anya. His jaw is clenched and
his lips pursed: If it were up to him, we wouldn’t be getting this information. Affection for Anya swells in me, but I tamp it down immediately. She’s simply doing what they both should have from the beginning: Telling us the truth.
Anya draws back her shoulders and takes in a breath. “Thank you all for coming. I’ve been trying to accomplish something since I first arrived in Clearwater, but I’m not having much luck. The full moon is Thursday. I realize I can’t keep trying this alone.”
Felix leans forward from his spot on the couch. “And what exactly are you wanting us to help you do?”
I’m thankful he’s the one to ask the questions, not me. It’s good to know I’m not the only one eager to know what’s going on.
Anya lifts a small silk pouch from her lap. She tugs the black fabric open and pulls out something brown and about the size of her ring finger—a piece of plant root. “I need you to help me find this. It’s called Althea root, and it’s a key element of the spell we’ll need to cast to defeat Seth.”
I squint at it. The name of the root is familiar. I’m positive I’ve seen it before—but if I have, it means Dad and Anya have too. “I’m pretty sure we sell that at the shop.”
Anya shakes her head. “That won’t work. Unfortunately, it needs to be dug up at just the right time under just the right conditions, and it needs to be used almost immediately, or the spell won’t work.”
Griffin rolls his eyes. “What’s this spell for anyway? According to Krissa’s text, you two were finally going to tell us what you’ve got in mind for taking down Seth. So far, I’m not seeing why I had to cut out of work early.”
Anya glances at Dad. “I think a demonstration would be best.”
Bria and I exchange glances. How can she demonstrate magic? She’s not a witch. Besides, she just said she needs our assistance finding an important ingredient in performing the spell.
To my surprise, my dad stands, holding a hand out. “Krissa, could you help me?”
It’s the most he’s said to me since we were at the shop. Bria raises her eyebrows encouragingly and I stand, crossing to him. “What do you need?”
He holds both palms out to me. “Your hands, please.”
After a beat, I slip both my palms against his. He curls his fingers around the backs of my hands and offers a small smile. “Do you trust me?”
Nervousness radiates off him and a pang of guilt stabs me. He’s honestly afraid I’ll say no. I squeeze his hands gently and nod.
He lets out a breath before closing his eyes and murmuring something. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it sounded like a spell. But why would my dad be trying to cast a spell? He’s not a witch, not like Jodi and me. For whatever reason, being a member of the Barnette line didn’t imbue him with a natural ability, just like being a Whitaker didn’t make my mom a psychic.
My palms tingle and warm against his and a thrum of curiosity and discomfort courses through the link of the binding spell. Everyone else is just as confused as I am. A nervous laugh bubbles in my throat, but before it can escape, a measure of power leaves me. It’s similar to how it felt when Griffin was drawing on the circle’s energy, but not quite the same. This is finite and comes just from me, from my magical side.
Dad releases me and opens his eyes. His lips twitch. “Thank you.”
“What just happened?” Fox asks. “What’d you do to her?”
The accusatory edge to his voice isn’t lost on Dad, who raises an eyebrow. “Nothing that’ll harm her. I just needed her help for a demonstration. You can sit down now, hon.”
I do as he suggests, mostly because I feel awkward standing in front of everyone else. By the time I’ve retaken my seat, Dad holds a pillar candle in his hand. Bria catches my eye, but I have no idea what his plan is. Unless… But no. Dad’s not a witch. Still, the way he’s holding the candle… If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was planning to light it with magic.
A flame flickers to life, eliciting a collective gasp from the room.
Did I do that? Was just thinking about lighting the candle enough to make it happen?
Dad holds out his free hand, closing it into a fist. The flame vanishes, leaving behind a wisp of smoke. I definitely didn’t do that. But does that mean he did?
He sets the candle back on its shelf before cupping his hands together. His lips move as he murmurs something and Anya grabs a bowl off a nearby end table, the shimmery silver one Jodi usually keeps stocked with candies but that has run empty in her absence. She holds it beneath his hands and he opens them, allowing a stream of water to run into it.
“What the hell?” Lexie breathes. Her eyes flick to mine. “I thought your dad wasn’t a witch.”
I shake my head, almost too baffled to respond. “He’s… He’s not. At least I thought he wasn’t.”
Dad wipes his damp hands on the seat of his jeans before sitting down. “It’s true—I’m not. I can’t access magic on my own the way a witch can. But nearly anyone can direct energy if given a source.”
A conversation I had with Jodi on my first day at Hannah’s Herbs bubbles to the forefront of my mind. “Like the people who buy things from the shop. Most of them aren’t witches, but they can still use the energy of the things they buy. Like if someone felt like he needed protection, he could start carrying around smoky quartz, and that energy could have the same kind of effect as a protection spell would.”
“That’s right. Almost all people have the ability to manipulate magic. They can borrow the powers of herbs or stones. They might not be able to cast a spell, but they can direct the energy.” He leans forward, pressing his forearms into his knees. “For the past five years, I’ve been training to hold magic inside myself and manipulate it. If I have a source to draw from—like a stone charged with power or like I did with Krissa a moment ago—I can cast spells.”
“Well, that’s great for you,” says Felix, whose eyebrows are drawn together. “But I don’t see what that has to do with us, or with Seth.”
“It’s not a talent many non-witches have,” Anya says. “Many don’t believe it’s even possible for ordinary people to manipulate magic in any significant way.”
“And by ‘many people,’ you mean Seth, don’t you?” Fox asks.
She nods. “It’s one of many reasons why he thinks ordinary people are worthless. He thinks there’s no way they can experience our abilities, so there’s no way they can understand us. And that lack of understanding leads to fear and danger.”
“But I’m still not seeing why this is important,” Felix says.
“This is how we’ll beat him,” Dad says. “He’ll expect an attack from all of you. Even though you’re stronger now that you’re bound than you would be individually, he knows it’s nearly impossible for one of you to wield all the energy to defeat him—there are too many egos at play, and, for some of you, not enough trust.”
“But Krissa was able to beat him before,” Owen points out. “When he was trying to absorb all the energy in the crystal—she stopped him with the combined power of the psychics and the witches.”
There’s a note of pride in his voice and I can’t help the surge of pleasure it brings. Still, he’s not entirely accurate. “The witches were all unconscious at the time, and the psychics were just waking up from whatever spell Seth used to knock them out. No one knew I was drawing on their energy, so no one tried to stop me.”
“Exactly.” Dad nods. “Seth is strong. You’ve already seen that. And it’s likely now that he’s with the Devoted he’s only gotten stronger. Remember, these people will do anything to help Seth—including giving over their abilities to help him succeed. We can’t know for sure, but we have to be prepared for the possibility that he’s drawing power from the Devoted—using them like batteries for extra strength. So to stop him, we need the element of surprise, yes, but we also need a single vessel for all your abilities. It’s the only possible way to combat someone with access to that much power.”
“That’s what the her
b’s for.” Everything is starting to take shape in my mind. “For a spell that’ll let you draw energy from all of us at once.”
Anya nods. “A vessel spell. It’ll let Ben access all your energy at the same time, siphoning it off much more quickly than he could do otherwise.”
“Wait—siphon off our energy?” Griffin’s voice is incredulous. “Like hell.”
“It’s not permanent,” Dad says. “One way or another, your abilities will return to you.”
Griffin clenches his jaw but says no more. Although he and I aren’t linked directly, I still feel a tremor of his thoughts and emotions through the bond. He doesn’t like the idea of anyone taking his magic, but he also doesn’t like the idea of being locked in Clearwater for the rest of his life, just waiting for Seth to mobilize against us. For once, I completely agree with him.
Anya holds out the root she showed us before. “I’ll pass this around. Everyone, just take a moment and hold it. Try to feel the energy of the plant.”
She hands it to Dad who gives it to West. His brow furrows. He’s psychic, so spellwork isn’t exactly in his wheelhouse. Still, dutifully, he closes his eyes and exhales, focusing on the plant for a few moments before passing it on.
Bria’s and Felix’s reactions are much the same as West’s. Felix gives me side-eye as he passes it to me. I sense he’s not sure what this exercise is supposed to accomplish. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure either. Still, I take the root and focus on it, calling to mind all the properties I remember from my time spent studying the different herbs at the shop. Althea root can calm anger, bring protection, and enhance psychic powers. It has medicinal uses, too, for things like coughs and sore throats. Still, somehow, even knowing these things doesn’t help me understand the piece of the plant in my hands any better.
I hand the root to Crystal, whose lip curls slightly. Although she’s had a fair amount of experience casting spells, I doubt she’s ever spent any time considering the energy in a given element. She rolls it between her fingers for a few moments before passing it along to Bridget.
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