Ghosted (Absent Fate Book 1)

by Jenica Saren

  "Yeah! First place!" Zeph cheered. He made some whooping sounds of victory and I almost broke my concentration from my stare-off with Jadwin.

  I didn't even know why we were staring. We just were. Blue eyes to blue eyes.

  "You're not first place," I corrected him bluntly.

  His victory celebration ceased. "Huh? But you learned my name first."

  "I don't do competitions. Someone always gets hurt," I explained.

  A thoughtful silence enveloped the room. Even still, I continued in the little game I had going on with Mystery Guy.

  "You really take your creed seriously, don't you?" Hansen asked, curious again.

  Nodding, I traced shapes I couldn't see on the table. "Most of us do. It's there for a reason," I replied honestly.

  For a while, no one said anything. Eventually, Jadwin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, blinking once. Grateful, I blinked my own burning, watering eyes. At least as a ghost, I could have continued on forever without having to break. Still, I wasn't entirely sure what the staring had been all about. He didn't say anything, just stared, and with him staring, it felt weird not to stare back. It was probably the total opposite of a self-preservation mechanism.

  Minutes ticked by and I just stared around the dining room, taking in the appearance of the white walls, the basic chandelier over the table, the pretty kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Something felt off about the space, though, and I could quite put my finger on it. Something was missing, something that made it feel like home.

  Home.

  Marcia had told Whitney that my mother and grandmother were still alive, but just barely. If she had been lying about knowing where my body was, she was likely lying about them, as well. That was a less than comforting thought.

  Throat thick and swollen with quiet emotion, I indicated to Gavyn that I needed to use his phone. He quickly obliged and passed it to me wordlessly. No questions. From memory, I dialled Whitney's number again and pushed the call button, waiting for her to answer.

  While I waited, I looked to each of the witch hunters in the room. "Do banshees have the memories of the witch's body?" I asked.

  Gavyn shook his head as I glanced at him. "Not really. They possess the essence of you, as a person. Your attitude, likes, dislikes, desires, fears, etc," he explained. "But your memories are yours."

  I nodded. That was all I needed to know.

  When Whitney answered the phone, I didn't give her a second to say a word. "What did you force me to do in eighth grade?" I asked her abruptly, my voice toneless.

  "Hello to you, Kissy," she replied dryly.

  "What was it?" I asked again, more demanding this time.

  She sighed over the phone. "I made you do the talent showcase with me and we did that goddess awful dance to Push It," she finally answered, sounding both bored and confused. "Are we good now? Or do you need me to tell you the details of our twentieth president, too?"

  My breath left me in a rush, some of the tension draining from me. "We're okay, but Whit, this is very, very important, got it?" I urged.

  "Important, got it. All ears, babe."

  "Don't let Marcia into your house. Tell your mom to keep her away from your coven at all costs," I told her quickly. I needed to get the words out as fast as possible. This was my best friend's life at stake.

  "There's a tiny issue with that, Kismet," she said in a hushed tone, as though someone else had stepped into the room. "She's already here."

  My blood ran cold all over again, my vision blurry. My instincts were telling me something very, very bad was about to happen and I didn't know what to do. "Is she inside already? What's happening, Whit?" I pushed. "You need to get the hell out of there and head to the college for sanctuary. I have a horrible, horrible feeling."

  "Kissy, she's already here, in my house. As in, right now."

  The Day I That I Had An Existential Crisis

  "Can this thing go any faster?" I shouted at Hansen, who was driving a little white car through all of the city traffic that seemed to be stacked against us. "And why haven't you four used this damn thing before?"

  "I'm going as fast as these assholes will let me, dammit!" Angrily, he laid on the horn, eliciting answering honks in response.

  "Yeah?" he shouted out his open window at goddess knows who. "Well, you too, buddy! Up yours!"

  I could hear someone shouting back at him, but all I could do was plant myself in the passenger seat and wait for traffic to move. I didn't have the time or focus to pay attention to his road raging issues. I had much more important things to stress about, like how my entire coven was at risk either because of me or because of our High Priestess. Neither were optimal results and I didn't think I could mentally handle either one very well at all.

  Hell, I wasn't even handling being undead-not-dead very well.

  Impatience rolled over me in agitating waves. Out of the corner of my eyes, I looked to make sure none of the guys were paying me much mind, then I said a spell under my breath and swished my finger to the side.

  The sound of an emergency vehicle coming up from behind us prompted Hansen to curse again and turn the wheel to get out of the roadway. "Stop, don't move," I told him casually.

  "It's the law to move over, Kismet," he reminded me.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake! The sirens aren't real, but everyone's moving now, okay?" I huffed irritably. Apparently, I was a terrible car riding companion today.

  Hansen grumbled out something about me being bitchy, but I could honestly care less. I'd instructed Whitney to get out of the house as quietly as possible, but Marcia had apparently stationed some other witches outside of her house. In a panic, I told her where I'd stashed the one-time use teleporting potion and spell that my mom had made for me in anticipation of my first sleepover with Whitney.

  Before she hung up, I'd made sure that she had used it and was tucked away safely at the college. The campus was full of all sorts of people and creatures. They'd formed a guild of sorts and were recognised as a lawful place to give asylum to anyone that asked for it, within reason. She'd be safe there. Of course, I was highly concerned about her mom, but there was nothing to be done. There wouldn't have been enough time to pull her aside and tell her the whole story.

  Besides, if I were a parent, I'd be happier that my child made it out. The rest I could live and die with.

  The traffic started parting and Hansen took the opportunity as quickly as he could, the sound of the siren sounding like it was right on our tails. We ended up somehow making it through the remaining traffic without another blocking incident or road rage problem. Once we were out in the more suburb area, I started counting down the minutes until we would arrive.

  Counting down the minutes until I could take back my life and make things right.

  Pulling up to the gate outside of the neighbourhood and land that was my home with a car full of squished witch hunters was one of the most surreal things to happen to me in my entire life. The power that could be felt from outside the gate alone was nearly overwhelming, probably because I'd been absent from it for so long.

  However, it seemed to affect my posse all the same, even if it was in a significantly smaller scale than the way it impacted myself. One by one, visible shudders ran through everyone, all of us turning to stare at one another. It was daunting, but not nearly as daunting as the reality of the trial we faced ahead.

  "Has the land always felt this way?" Gavyn asked warily. "That's a lot of power, even for a boastfully strong coven like yours."

  Well, there went the readjustment theory. "No, it's never felt like this before," I admitted in a hushed tone. If I wasn't crazy, then I was worried.

  The guys made humming noises of concern in response to my statement. These were witch hunters. I had no way of knowing how many witches they had... Dispatched, but I was sure the number wasn't what any person would consider small. The group was formidable, dangerous. Seeing and hearing their worry at the situation we were fa
ced with was less than comforting, contrary, it was extremely unsettling.

  Then, there was the question of why it seemed like there was almost an overflow of power in the Syntyche coven. The answer, I was sure, had something to do with whatever Marcia was hiding and what had happened to my mother and grandmother.

  Both of them were very well known, very powerful witches. The only reason my mother wasn't High Priestess was that my grandmother was the Crone, the strongest and most knowledgeable elder in the coven. It would have been seen as a power grab had my mother accepted her role, so she humbly passed on the opportunity, allowing Marcia, her best friend since childhood, to take up the mantle instead, despite her inferior knowledge and skill. The other leaders had been sceptical at first, as Marcia had just delivered a stillborn child. However, it was worth noting that Marcia had done well to lead the coven over the years, even if her methods were a bit too lax and lazy.

  Heart pounding in my chest, throat tight, and hands shaking, I got out of the car and moved to punch in the code to the community. After a few beeps, I waved my hand to express some of my magick, letting it know that I belonged there since I wasn't in my actual body. The code was the only thing I needed when I'd been whole, but I'd been taught what to do in case of a siege or shutdown and the code was disabled.

  Getting back into the car, I waited for someone to say something as the gate slowly opened on its rusty, weathered track. Someone really needed to talk to Marcia about that, assuming she wasn't evil and hadn't done something terrible to my family and body.

  I shuddered. "Go in and continue for four blocks, then make a right at the big flower bushes. I'll be the one with the blue car," I instructed Hansen, our terrifying driver. Really, someone else should have been driving. The dude had issues out the wazoo.

  With a short nod, not looking at me, he did as I'd said and pulled slowly through the gate, which was beeping its warning that it was preparing to close. Before too long, we were pulling up to my house.

  Nothing had changed, at least on the outside. The flowers that my grandmother insisted on keeping were planted everywhere and still thriving. The latticework that my mother saw in a do-it-yourself magazine was still stapled over the patio railing. The door was still shining with its last coat of polish, because my mother and grandmother insisted that a well-oiled door was the only way to ensure the imprints of my face never stuck.

  "Pull it into the garage, just in case," I advised, getting out of the car. I made my way to one of the flowery bushes that lined the driveway, the seventh one from the driveway. Placing my hand over one of the closed buds, I whispered, "wake up, beautiful." Not only was it the command my grandmother had set to keep the extra keys hidden, but it was also the words she would wake me with almost every morning.

  I had to fight not to choke on the tears threatening to overtake my willpower. I'll find you, Gran. I promise.

  Having wasted enough time, I waited for the blooming flower, despite the cold, to open up and present me with a small clicker to open the garage. The door from the garage to the inside of the house was never locked, so there wasn't an extra key there. I did find it odd, however, that the extra front door key was missing.

  I shook my head to clear it. As I pushed the button to open the garage, Hansen's little white car began moving forward. Once he was parked inside, I clicked to shut it and stuck the clicker in my pocket, feeling uneasy. I glanced around me, noting that none of my neighbours were outside. It was eerily quiet, and that wasn't normal for midday.

  Before the garage door closed all the way, I hurried inside and nearly tripped over the small, raised lip. "Whoa!" Jadwin exclaimed, catching me around the waist before I planted face-first into the back of the car.

  "'Preciate ya," I muttered, looking everywhere but at him as my cheeks flamed. Like Gavyn's rumbling laughter, I was all too aware of Jadwin's hands on me and the unexpected way my body reacted.

  Quickly, too quickly, he let go of me and backed a few steps away. "You're welcome," he grumbled back. One day, I really wanted to figure out what his deal was, aside from the fact that I was the very sort of thing he was raised to destroy. Every time it felt like I was getting somewhere with him, several steps back were taken.

  Blushing furiously and trying to cool the rising temperature inside me, I moved around him and through the door. I was immediately hit with the overwhelming scent of home, the frankincense, the light odour of peppermint from the oil my mom used to keep spiders away, the smell of the lavender that was always in fresh vases around the house. I paused a few steps inside to just soak it all in.

  I cleared my throat and turned to the guys. "The basement is where I held the ritual, but we may want to scope out the rest of the place first," I told them. Hansen glared at me. "Just in case my body or some other person's body is hiding around here somewhere."

  Hansen's eyes narrowed into slits as they fixated on my face. "I give the orders around here," he growled. Oh no, that poor ego of his. "Everyone take a floor and a side of the house. I'll stay down here with Gavyn. Jadwin, Zeph, you two go upstairs and pick a side."

  The guys gave him sceptical looks that pretty much told me he wasn't usually so... Wounded. Still, they nodded and all split off in their separate directions.

  As they went, a terrifying thought struck me. What if they did find someone? What would they do? Sure, I'd been assured that my safety was guaranteed as far as the danger they presented, but they made no such promises regarding my sisters. My stomach flipped painfully at the idea of anyone getting hurt.

  "They'll be fine," Gavyn said, coming up behind me as I stood in the living room. I didn't even remember walking in there.

  "It's not them I'm worried about," I confessed, feeling a bit ashamed. I really should have been more worried about the witch hunters that were helping me. The banshee could just as easily crush their souls as well as those of other witches. "I don't want anybody to get hurt. And I mean anybody."

  Grabbing me gently by the shoulders, Gavyn spun me to face him. "You're worried about your High Priestess, then?" he clarified.

  I shook my head, but not in denial. "Of course I am. I don't know for sure that she's the bad guy in any way here, but she's family first," I explained.

  This time, it was Gavyn's turn to shake his head. "If she's the bad guy, as you put it, then that's what she is first, you understand?" he asked me kindly.

  I nodded.

  "Your creed is important to you, I know, but if one person has to get hurt to keep the rest of the world whole, then what is that worth to you?" He didn't wait for my answer as he continued, his voice strong and sure. "It should be worth a lot. If your people are good witches, however ridiculous that may be, then aren't innocent lives at stake?"

  "What if she's innocent, though?" I countered. My voice was hardly more than a whisper. "What if she's done nothing wrong and we still hurt her? What if I'm the one who's bad?"

  Gavyn opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

  "Hey, Ghost Girl!" Zeph called. Gavyn and I both shushed him. "Do you have a little sister or something?"

  The question caught me off guard and I stared at him in surprise. "Of course not," I answered. I felt a little panicked. Had he found something? Someone?

  "Then is that girly room, yours?" he asked with a snicker.

  I groaned. Of course, he would taunt me about my bedroom. Even Jadwin, standing right behind him, was smirking. Assholes.

  "We don't have time for these games," Hansen snapped, coming into the living room. "We're clear down here. Upstairs?"

  Jadwin and Zeph nodded.

  "Good. Then we head for the basement."

  Without another word, I led them to the hall door that would take us into the basement. I had to pause for a moment as fear gripped me. If we found anything at all, what would it be? Would it be the banshee that was me? Would it be more? I had no way of telling and that in itself was terrifying. Not for the first time in my l
ife, I wished I was clairvoyant.

  Sucking in a deep breath to prepare myself, I quietly opened the door and stepped down the first two steps before I nearly tripped again. A large, warm hand caught me around the upper arm to steady me. I didn't look back to see who it was. Instead, I kept going and they kept me steady as I went.

  I'd just reached the bottom few steps when a dim, blue light caught my attention. There were whispers, as well, hushed voices in the near-darkness. I didn't have to tell the guys to be quiet, but the voices must have heard us anyway. They stopped talking immediately and I climbed the final few steps, raising a shaking hand and preparing to fight.

  But, I wasn't ready for the sight that awaited me.

  Marcia was there, standing around something that looked like a floating, glowing piece of ripped paper as tall as me. And next to her, staring back at me with a terrifying and evil glint in her eyes, was me. The banshee me.

  "Hello, Kismet," Marcia greeted warmly. "Have you two met?"

  The Night When Shit Hit the Fan for Real

  That popular phrase about a cat having your tongue had never felt more real to me. It was like something had grabbed it straight out of my mouth and was holding onto it, rendering me unable to speak, try as I might. I was stunned, shocked to my very core by the sight before me.

  Staring at the banshee that had my body and the High Priestess that I had both doubted and defended many a time, I'd never felt more helpless or betrayed. It was evident now, with the two of them standing before me as I shook all over, that the bad guy had been close to home the entire time. Right under my nose and I didn't want to even think of it.

  Someone shoved me gently out of the way as they all moved in front of me, blocking most of my view of the scene unfolding in my basement.