Immortal Slumber (The Crawford Witch Chronicles Book 1)

by S. L. Perrine

  “She was my grandmother?”

  “She sure was. No better lady than her. She took me in when my parents died, raised me like one of her own. She was an amazing woman,” he said, swinging again at one of the two pieces and split that one into two as well.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to know I come from at least one good person.” I turned to leave and felt his hand on my shoulder to stop me.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, my grandfather wants my father dead, my father may or may not be a user of black magic, my parents both gave me up for adoption and haven’t contacted me . . . ever . . . not even since my eighteenth.” I could feel the hot springs welling up in my eyes. “Hell, the one uncle I’ve met is as crazy and creepy as a clown on drugs.”

  “What uncle, and how did you meet him?”

  “Barnaby Crawford. He came to me in shadow form at the haunted house.”

  “That was him? How do you know for sure?”

  “He came to me again last night . . . in a dream . . . I think. Maybe it was a daydream. He said he knew who I was, and knows my mother and father are alive. He also contacted the adoption agency and asked for a meeting. Helen told me that bit yesterday.”

  “Barnaby and Cinnabar are your mother’s brothers. She loves them dearly, and has a very powerful connection to them. It’s no wonder they would be able to sense your mother’s power in you. A meeting, I think, would be fine. You’re not a threat to them, nor the other way around. However, if your Aunt Sabina were to find you . . . I’m not sure she wouldn’t be a threat. Do you understand?”

  “Bad blood?” I asked.

  “You could say that.”

  I sat on the front porch for half an hour waiting for the garbage trucks to finish on our street, then made a call to the adoption agency and asked for my uncle’s number. After another twenty minutes, I pushed the numbers and hit the call button. We agreed to meet at a small diner in town called The Gas Light Café at noon. It was a place that had more of a crowd in the evenings, but only a few regulars for lunch. I asked if it would be okay to bring a friend along. Once he agreed, I felt a bit calmer than before. He either wasn’t a threat or figured he’d take us both out. Either way, Chad was a total basket case when I told him. He thought I was crazy in the head for agreeing to meet with him, even after I told him what Chester had said, but I managed to change the subject by bringing up a more interesting topic.

  “I wanted the door to close, and it did, but I meant to use my hand. I didn’t even know I could use magic yet.”

  “You’re exhibiting powers unconsciously. You should be practicing more. You’ll need to harness your power for the blood ritual.” He stroked my hand thoughtfully, and then started to squeeze it so hard he hurt me.

  Without thinking, I pulled on my hand and felt a zap. “What was that all about?”

  “I wanted to see if anger was your trigger . . . seems it is.” He laughed and I could see the dimples in his cheeks. I leaned in close to him, and he stopped laughing and leaned into me. Then . . . Bam! I got him right between the eyes with the palm of my hand.

  “What was that?” he yelled, holding his head.

  “I wanted to see . . . no, I just wanted to get you back.” I laughed and then let out a loud snort.

  “Never play with a man’s emotions like that.” His face turned into a red, sad state, and he turned on the couch to put his back to me.

  “I’m sorry C, I thought you would’ve seen that coming.”

  “With powers inside you, you’re getting better at deception than I am at foresight.”

  “Wait . . . that’s how you always countered me before I struck? You have foresight. Ugh, that makes so much sense.”

  He shifted in his seat again to face me. “Is it so hard to just think of it as a skill?”

  “Yes, cause that’s not a skill . . . it’s cheating,” I said with my mean girl face that made him instantly apologetic every time I used it.

  “Nope, I’m not falling for it again.”

  “Falling for what? Cheating is just . . . wrong.” I stumbled for the right word.

  “Yeah, well deal with it.”

  He sat back on the couch and I jumped on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. I looked deep into his eyes and he looked at me with a pouty face. I was about to pull his hair or something juvenile like that, but the front door opened and Chad panicked and threw me off his lap. We were both in stitches, laughing by the time Chester made it to the living room.

  “What are you hooligans up to?”

  “I was just asking Chad if he’d like to go with me to meet Barnaby.” I got off the couch and reached for Chad’s hand, but he withdrew it.

  “You’re meeting him today. That was quick,” Chester said as he placed his axe in the hall closet.

  “Yeah, well he’s eager to see me, I guess.”

  “I’m gonna go. Is that all right, dad?”

  “Of course it is. Did you forget you’re supposed to be protecting her?” Chester left us and headed up the stairs.

  Chad finally grabbed my hand and let me pull him to his feet. I moved backwards and tripped over the rug, but he grabbed me and pulled me back into him so I didn’t fall. We stood there for a minute, just looking at each other.

  “I should have done this a long time ago.”

  “Done what?”

  “This.” He reached his hands through the tangles of my hair and pulled my face to meet his. His lips were warm against mine, and felt like silk rubbing across my mouth. He pulled me closer to him, moving one arm around my waist. My arms flew up to wrap around his back. He pulled away, just a little. “That.”

  When he heard his father’s footsteps descending the stairs, he let go and I regained my composure. My fingers lightly rubbed my bottom lip, then I caught myself and turned to stare at the front door.

  “Well, you ready?”

  “Mm hmm.” Was all I could manage.

  Like a true gentleman, he held the door open for me and we walked hand in hand to the diner. When we saw it, we stopped and waited to see if we could spot Barnaby entering first. I don’t know what I was hoping to see, or not see, but he walked into the diner at exactly noon. He was alone, as far as I could tell. He wasn’t hard to spot, as I told Chad about my encounter with him in the woods. He held a cane and was wearing a tailcoat, top hat, and black and white Oxfords. When I approached the corner booth where he was seated, he stood and allowed me to sit before taking Chad’s hand to say hello, and then sat himself.

  At first, we just ordered coffee and I tried not to stare at him. He reminded me of a person who may have lived in the 1920’s. I played with the napkin in my lap, folding it this way and that. He spoke first, for which I was grateful, because regardless of the million questions I had for the man, I couldn’t think of a single one.

  He started by asking about my age and how good of a student I was. He asked things like if I wanted to go to college and if so, which one. Until a few days ago, I had been consumed with all of the normal topics that a high school senior may have had to talk about to family, but they just didn’t seem as important anymore. It was all kind of normal. Then it changed . . .

  “So, when did you find out you’re a witch?”

  “Um . . . well, just a few days ago on my birthday. Halloween, to be exact.” He spoke about my being a witch so openly in public that I was shocked with his callousness and lack of concern.

  “You were born on All Hallows Eve?”

  He looked at me, and I could swear his eyes changed color. Then I noticed that he looked like me. Dark hair, dark brown eyes, and his skin looked as though he had tanned recently. He was the first person I had ever seen who had similar features as me. I had been so used to the concept of adoption, I hadn’t realized it bothered me that the people I called family bared absolutely no resemblance to me.

  “Yes . . . why? Is there something significant about being born on Halloween?” I asked, not really thinking about it m
uch before, even after the truth came out about my parent’s heritage.

  “Well, a witch born to two high positioned witches is extraordinary, and hasn’t happened in over a hundred years. When that child is born on October 31st, well, the power you could potentially have . . . anyone would kill for that kind of power.”

  This time, I knew his eyes were changing color. The dark brown had gone so dark that they were equally black as his pupils. If Chad weren’t sitting so close, I may have gotten up and run back to the safety of my home.

  “Even say . . . a family member?” Chad shot a daring look at him.

  “Oh . . . no . . . that’s . . . I didn’t mean to imply-” He stopped and put his hands up as if he were surrendering. “Your father’s family, maybe, but not a Crawford. The Sigmis clan were the ones who put a death mark on your parents. We only wanted what was best for your mother.” He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his head to the table as he lowered his voice. “My sister, Sabina, was the last one to speak with my mother before she died. She is the one who told Allister that your father was responsible for my mother’s death . . . she said our mother told her this herself. Allister is your grandfather . . . well, he wanted to speak to your mother about it, but Silas’s family had put the mark upon them, and they fled.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes, wow. We didn’t know they had gotten married or that you were conceived. I only found you by our shared blood.”

  Chad cleared his throat. “So, does that mean his family can now find her?”

  “What would give you that idea?”

  “I share his blood, too. I mean . . . I’m not just a Crawford . . . right?”

  “No, I suppose you’re not. That’s one of the reasons why I’d like you to come with me to meet Allister. He can train you; provide you with a spell, as your mother had, to hide you until we can find her and your father.”

  “If the Crawford’s just wanted to find out what the truth is about my grandmother’s death, and that’s why you hunted them, then what is the reason for my father’s family to want them dead?”

  “The Sigmis clan are dark practitioners. Your father betrayed his family by marrying your mother. He was a priest of darkness, and renounced it when he met Gwen.”

  So my mother’s family blamed my father for the death of my grandmother, and my father’s family blamed my mother for ruining him, and for turning his back on them. One side wanted answers, but the other wanted blood. I was in no better position than before, when I thought both sides wanted them both dead.

  “The spider . . . ”

  “At your party?” Chad sat up, looked at me, and then gave Barnaby an evil glare. “That thing could have killed her.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My uncle looked well enough like he hadn’t the foggiest idea of what we were talking about, so we filled him in. As it turned out, he had nothing to do with it, but suspected we were right about my father’s family knowing where I was. They had probably thought the same thing he had at first; that they had finally found my mother. It would make sense that they attacked her, not knowing I existed. He asked me to go with him the following weekend to meet with my grandfather. As luck would have it, they had lived rather close to me during my entire life. He suspected my mother planned it that way, in the event the spell that hid me would have dissipated on the event of my eighteenth birthday.

  “You’ll need proper training.”

  At the mention of meeting my family, Chad tensed up and moved closer to me, as if I were in a direct threat, that instant, of being harmed.

  “My father is training us,” Chad said after the waitress finally brought us our coffee.

  “I appreciate that your father is training your new coven, but Elyse will need proper one on one training from her own family. As her protector, I expect you to come along as well. This is in her best interest.”

  Chad seemed to loosen up at the prospect of me going, once Barnaby said he could tag along.

  I never even touched the coffee, and when I placed money on the table to cover mine and Chad’s drinks, Barnaby put out his hand in protest and told me to take it back. He paid the waitress and said a few more words to her, then we all got up to leave.

  I didn’t know how I felt about meeting my biological family. Meeting just an uncle at a time was strange enough. I felt as if I was turning my back on my family. Helen and Michael had no idea what my life had turned into, and they didn’t even know about the meeting at the diner. I had told Helen that I didn’t want to meet this man, and at the time, I really hadn’t wanted to.

  When Barnaby left on his own, Chad grabbed my hand again and began to lead me home.

  “So, are we going to this pow-wow with the rents this afternoon?”

  “How did you know about that?” I asked. “I forgot to tell you.”

  “Matt messaged me.”

  I had completely forgotten that Crystal had convinced them to let us observe their circle. I really didn’t want to watch, I just wanted answers. The fact that her mother was so uptight when it came to anything magic made me wonder if that was the reason she never really seemed to like me. I had started to wonder if she and my mother had any bad blood between them.

  Elle Walters was a single mom of two witches, I would guess. Crystal’s older brother, Peter, was very protective of her. He had made it his business to take up the role of the man of the house after their parents split. Elle had still been pregnant with Crystal when they separated, and she had become a workaholic. She finished law school and became one of the toughest lawyers in the district. Will Freeman lived in town, and Crystal and her brother spend a decent amount of time with him, since he’s so close. He just doesn’t want to hear about the part of their lives that involve anything regarding magic and witches.

  The rest of the parents, or rents for short, were okay. They all took their heritage seriously, and dragged Elle to their weekly coven meetings. Chester Crain, of course, took over as their leader of the coven, since the protector is the right hand of the high priest or priestess. In this case, Chester made himself responsible for the coven when my mother, Gwen, had been confirmed dead, along with my father.

  Marcus Tanner, Matt’s father, is the local shop mechanic. Marcus’s father handed him the keys to the shop when Marcus graduated high school, and retired to warmer climates. Matt said he hasn’t even met the man, but his father speaks of him once in a while.

  Marshal Blackwood was, in my opinion, better than his daughter. He had never acted like he was better than the rest of us in all the time I’ve known him. He’s a cardiologist at the Cincinnati hospital. He spends his free time volunteering at the soup kitchen and donates money all over town. Three years ago, the high school received a new gymnasium, thanks to Mr. Blackwood. Clara, on the other hand, is more like her mother. She’s polished, refined, and her nose is stuck so far up in the air I swear she could tell if snow were coming months in advance. Adele Blackwood was your average stay-at-home mother, like Helen. She spent her time organizing hospital charities and looking down on those who she felt was beneath her. I always got a feeling of discontent from her and never really knew why. My guess is I would soon find out.

  The fifth in their group would have been my mother. I could explain the rest of the rents at a moment’s notice, but to explain Gwendolyn Crawford, I’d have to have the gift of foresight or knowing. I have no idea where she is, or what she’s like. I had often lain in bed, wondering if I got my hair or my eyes from my mother or my father. I don’t know which of them was tall or who was clumsy. I have no idea which of my traits were from them or just my own.

  I thought on that for a moment while I tried to listen to Chad meander on about how we were supposed to meet the rest of our coven and the rents at the body shop. My stomach started to complain, and I realized that I hadn’t stopped long enough this morning to eat anything.

  Chad looked at me when it protested once more and pulled me faster. When I looked up, I noticed we
were already heading up the drive to his house. Chester wasn’t outside, but his truck still was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Chad moved for the door handle, I grabbed his hand to stop him. I had no idea why, so when he looked at me questioningly, I just shrugged.

  “I didn’t do that.” I said to clarify.

  “What do you mean you didn’t do that?” Chad said, moving back to the door.

  There was a sound like the banging of metal against metal inside. We could hear raised voices from the back of the house. Chad grabbed the arm of my sweatshirt and pulled me off the stairs, around the left side of the house. The sliding glass door on the deck was slightly ajar, and we could hear the voices a bit clearer, but not enough to make out what was being said. Another clash, of what sounded like pots and pans, reverberated from inside the house. Chad motioned for me to squat down as he put a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be silent.

  I had no idea what he was about to do, and if he hadn’t asked me to keep quiet, I more than likely would have screamed at the sight of it.

  Chad pulled off his shirt and got down on all fours. His back arched upward as the bones that made up his spine ripped through the skin on his back. I could hear each bone as they cracked and snapped. As the skin ripped away, so did the rest of his clothes. I stumbled backward and placed my hand over my mouth. As I did, I tripped over the shoes that I didn’t see him kick off. By the time I looked back at Chad, he was covered in fur the color of blackened ash. He had taken on the form of a large mountain wolf, the size of which I had never seen.

  My attention was again drawn to the noises coming from inside the house and the sound of dishes shattering against the floor. Chad looked back at me with big brown eyes, and I could understand what he was trying to tell me. He worried for his father, but he wanted me to stay put. I nodded in agreement. He snuck around the corner of the house, making his way up the back porch stairs. I stood still, holding my breath, as he slid the end of his snout into the small opening of the door. The curtains hanging against the door on the inside were parted enough that I could make out two figures standing on either side of Chester. Chad must have seen them as well. He let out a loud growl, and in one fluid motion, he slid open the door and pounced inside.