“What? Tell me. Sit, calm down.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to sit! Listen to me!” Jo grabs my upper arms, her nails digging into my skin. “There’s a tornado coming. Her house is right in its path. I see her die!” She lets me go and covers her face with her hands. Wobbling slightly, Cal puts his arms on her shoulders to steady her. She doesn’t push him away.
Jo takes a deep breath and drops her hands. Her face is grave.
“Aven, please help her. Stop the tornado. Please save her.” Her face becomes as fragile as a china doll. Tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
The words stop my breath. I close my eyes. There’s an older, red brick home, set back from a gravel road and flanked by corn fields. The sky is black; the wind howls viciously and bits of debris fly across my vision. A normal person cannot see the tornado in the blackness, but I can. Its funnel is wide at the top, pulling energy from the rolling sky, and it’s growing, moving fast. The narrow tip snakes wickedly across the ground, wrenching free everything it touches, no matter how big. It is heading directly towards Matilda’s home through the fields.
I open my eyes to see Jo’s face has not changed.
“You see it, don’t you?” she asks, the question sounding more like an accusation.
The answer is stuck in my throat.
“Save her. Please.” Jo takes my hands.
“Jo.” I take a deep breath. “I cannot.” She drops my hands.
Her face changes quickly from great sadness to unreasonable anger. “The hell you can’t! I’ve seen what you can do! You brewed up an effing storm the other day! You can damn well stop a storm!”
“You have to understand, I can’t interfere with Nature’s plan.”
She stands straighter, glaring at me.
I continue. “Your mother is meant to die tonight.” She flinches. “Many people are meant to die tonight. It’s their time. I can’t stop that.”
She narrows her eyes, her face red. “Can’t or won’t?”
My answer will condemn me. Nothing I say will convince her that it’s time for her mother’s life to end.
She shrugs off Cal’s hands; he is motionless, standing silent and wide-eyed. She turns away from me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you,” she mutters.
She whirls back at me. “You bitch! You have all this power, power you probably don’t deserve, and you won’t even use it to prevent an old woman from dying a horrible death!”
Her words cut me. Cal puts his hands up, trying to calm her.
“Come on, Jo, calm down.”
She turns on him. “You shut your mouth. You don’t know anything.” She steps back, surprised at her own anger. Her fury melts away immediately, and she rushes to me, once more taking my hands. My heart bleeds for my friend, and I grip them tight.
“Please,” she whispers, looking at our hands. “Do this for me, Aven, please. Don’t let her die like this.” She collapses to the ground in sobs. I go to the ground with her, wrapping my arms around her convulsing shoulders. Cal steps forward but stops, unsure of what to do.
I feel her pain, deep in my soul, for her mother. It grips my heart, and my chest tightens; I cannot breathe. I push this away, shield myself from her radiating energy. I don’t want to lose my friend and I know if I don’t do this, she will never forgive me.
Never, never, have I manipulated Nature to bend it to my will. Helping crops grow is one thing, but keeping a Spirit from continuing its journey is completely different. What will happen if I change this? That question I cannot answer, but I do know that I will lose my best friend if I do nothing.
“All right, Jo, all right.” Dread creeps over my body as I choke out these words.
She pulls away to look at me. Her eyes and cheeks are wet and swollen; I feel her blood coursing through her body, the rapid pounding in her chest.
“Really?” Her voice is small.
I nod and she collapses once again in relief.
I grab her and pull her up. “We must hurry.”
Cal stares at both of us, back and forth as if watching a tennis match.
“Uh, would someone tell me what’s going on?”
“No time to explain, Cal. You should go.” He furrows his brow. Jo is at the door already, looking back me, jumping with fear and anticipation.
“What’s going on?” he repeats as if not hearing me.
I sigh. “Come on then and you’ll see.” I don’t wait for an answer. I join Jo at the door and turn back to him. He is standing forlornly, like a lone man lost in a desert. We duck through the door. When we reach the kitchen, I hear his steps coming down the stairs.
I lead us to my reading room where the object hangs that I will use. Against my better judgment, I am doing this. However, I am excited at the prospect in spite of myself. My body tingles with the unknown that lies ahead.
As I enter the room, I flick my left hand, causing every candle in the room to flame up brightly. Cal is the last to enter and does not see this. I walk quickly to the mirror and whip my right arm upward at it. The thick, heavy velvet flies from it and sails across the room, pouring itself onto the floor beside the fireplace. Cal sees this and his eyes widen momentarily before his brow pinches together, scrutinizing the mirror.
At the sight of the massive scrying mirror, Jo grabs her chest and gasps—her face a mixture of awe and fear. She takes several steps back from it.
I stand in front of the mirror and motion for them to move away from me, over by the fireplace. I get on my knees. As I open my arms wide at my sides, I turn my head to them. “Whatever happens, do not touch me. This is not a request.”
I take several deep breaths, anchoring my energy to the Earth below me. I gaze at the mirror and the glossy blackness begins to move, the sharp sounds of cracking glass fill the room. Jo gasps. My body trembles but not in fear. I will have to use the full extent of my power to achieve this and I am not certain of success. Nature is vastly more powerful than I. My heart flutters at this challenge, and every cell within me accepts it. I cannot stop the grin forming on my lips.
As the Veil breaks the surface of the mirror, and my breath grows deeper, the pressure in the room becomes palpable. I sense Jo’s fear; it is thick and makes her body tremble. Cal is struggling; within him wages a battle between belief and doubt. I must block these energies from disturbing me.
I release a sliver of my Spirit. As my physical body dims slightly, sounds from both Jo and Cal break into my concentration. I cannot speak in this state, so my voice rings through their minds.
Quiet.
Cal jerks at the sudden intrusion into his mind but remains silent, his eyes glued to the spectacle before him.
Tethered to my physical body, my Spirit enters the Veil. The dark gray and silver ether takes me greedily and responds to my call for traveling without question.
The mirror’s surface reflects the rapid movement of smoky white and gray, my Spirit not visible within. Its movement slows after a moment, and shapes appear ahead in the mist. Little by little, these shapes resolve into a small bedroom. The sounds of crying are faint but increase as the vision sharpens. A frail, white-haired old woman, dressed in a long, brightly colored housecoat, cowers on the floor between her bed and a dresser. The windows of her room have blown out, and she is surrounded by shards of glass and splinters of wood. Her thin, bony feet are bare.
I can no longer hear what is behind my physical body. All I hear are the sounds of Jo’s mother and the tumult of an oncoming tornado. But in my Sight, I see Jo cry out at the vision of her mother in the mirror and lunge forward. Cal grabs her and his face is stern, saying words that I cannot make out. By their expressions, I know they hear what I hear; the room is filled with the sounds of Nature’s fury.
My opaque form bends over Matilda. Her fearful eyes see me and she reaches out to me, thanking the Goddess for her rescue. Her arms pass through me. I tell her to be calm, that she will be fine, that her daughter has sent me. She says my name
with a relieved sob and tries to grip me again.
The room erupts with a burst of violent wind. The tornado is almost upon us. Matilda screams and puts her hands over her head, tightening her little body into a ball. I lay a hand on her head and she falls silent and still, relaxing onto the floor. She is asleep now.
I cover her body with my own as part of the roof is ripped from above us. I plunge my fist into the wall to grasp a water pipe within, needing to secure myself in place. I make my Spirit heavy, as solid as I can, to shield her from the deadly debris. The wind pulls at me, desperately wanting to suck me into its funnel. The bed and dresser are yanked upward and something knocks me hard on the back. My physical body grunts from the force of the hit and causes me to falter. Cal instinctively moves towards me, but Jo grips his arm tight, stopping him.
The wind is determined to have me and brings down upon my body the contents of all it finds in the small room. My body is beaten about, and I struggle not to crush the old woman. I frantically look around, seeking some object to shield us. The lightning comes faster now and brings much-needed light, but from my disadvantaged viewpoint, I see nothing to help.
I wrap white light around us, encasing us in a small measure of protection. It’s not strong enough to withstand the onslaught of the storm, and I fear what comes next. The roar of the tornado is deafening. Driving rain is now beating down on us, stinging me with every bead. My grip on the pipe is slipping. My body is yanked upward. I clench my eyes and ball my left hand, demanding to be heavier, forcing my body back to the ground.
I am weakening. I look around once more through squinted eyes and sheets of hard rain. Nothing. I cry out in frustration. Something hits my side, knocking me partially off Matilda. I scramble back over her. She has a gash on her forehead, but her face is calm in blissful slumber. I will the white light to be harder, stronger, thicker. But it will not hold; the storm is seething around us. I have failed. I cannot save her. What a fool I was to give Jo hope.
I gaze down at the peaceful woman. Forgive me.
Jo screams for her mother.
I brace myself once more for the tornado is here.
An unearthly screech cuts through the onslaught. Shocked by the sound, I whip my head around. Something catches my eye across the remains of the hallway. The white raven! I see him there clearly, his feathers glowing with white light. He beats his wings frantically, screeching and cawing, and stabs with his beak what he is perched on.
A flash of lightning reveals a gun safe still standing like a sentinel guarding a ruined stronghold. Yes!
As my right hand still grasps the exposed pipe, my left hand reaches out for the safe. With a pump of my fist, the door to the safe is wrenched off, squealing madly in protest. Papers and boxes fly out in a flurry and are immediately sucked up by the wind. I whip my arm back and the safe flies towards me. My hand throttles its speed and maneuvers it to cover us just as the remaining roof and brick wall explode around us. The tornado freight-trains through the little home, sucking up the skeletal remains of the building and its contents. White light holds the safe in place over us.
Jo’s cry for her mother cuts through the Veil.
My physical body is gasping and as tense as a bowstring. I have fallen forward; my hands are fists on the floor, and I’m braced should the safe be crushed down around us. Jo and Cal cling to each other, both wanting to help me and stop the other at the same time. The room is hot, the air is thick, and I struggle to breathe. The pressure in the room has extinguished the candles and fills the room with the acrid stench of burnt wick. The only light is the fast coming lightning through the mirror.
In Matilda’s bedroom, held within the protective confines of the safe, I wait. After what seems an eternity, there is silence. The quiet is eerie and tingles with the lingering energy of the tornado. The room where my physical body still tenses is also quiet. Jo is sobbing; both Cal’s arms are wrapped around her shoulders. He gapes at me and the scene in the mirror.
My body straightens, taking deep breaths through my nose. In the mirror, the safe rises slowly from us and I set it down on its side. From the direction of the road come frantic shouts calling out for Matilda. I softly tap the mind of one of the rescuers and hear his heavy footfalls coming towards us.
The surface of the mirror ripples, and the images within begin to blur. I pull back within the Veil. Relief fills me as my Spirit sliver merges back into me. The mirror’s surface hardens and turns glossy black once more.
Jo rushes at me, falling to her knees at my side. She reaches for me then stops herself.
“Is she all right?” she pants.
All I can do is nod.
“Oh, my Goddess.” Her face falls into her hands and she weeps, repeatedly thanking me.
Blood is pounding in my head, and the thrill of energy dances on my skin. I hide my smile. By all rights, I should be exhausted, but I am not. My blood is on fire.
Cal turns on the nearest lamp and joins Jo, putting his hand on her back. He looks at me with a mixture of relief and fear.
“You all right?”
I nod again. The electric rush is fading quickly. I am crashing, the exhaustion settling in.
I put a hand on Jo and she looks up at me.
“Aven, I don’t know what to say.” Tears are falling freely down her cheeks.
I have to clear my throat to speak. “Say nothing to me. Go to her, Jo. Now. She is living on stolen time. She will still die and there will be no stopping it.” Nature will not be thwarted.
Jo’s face falls. “When?”
I shake my head and shrug; my shoulders are painfully heavy. “In two minutes, two days, two months.” I put my hands to my face. My body is beginning to ache. My back throbs and pain pricks my left side with each breath. When I pull my hands away from my face, there’s blood in them.
“You’re bleeding!” Cal exclaims, reaching for me. He turns me to face him. I feel the warm trickle of blood from my nose and taste its iron on my lips. I have no strength to aid him as he tries to pull me up. My vision narrows and the meager light in the room dims around me. There is ringing in my head now. Cal puts one arm around my back and another one under my legs. He lifts me effortlessly, asking Jo where the nearest bed is.
Jo leads him to my bedroom, and he lays me gently on the bed. I hear talk of taking me to the hospital and calling an ambulance.
“No, no.” I wave my hand at them. It is so very heavy. “I will be fine. I just need to rest.” My vision is blurry; their shapes are black masses within the gray darkness. The brightness of Maggie’s coat shines at the end of the bed.
“Oh, my Goddess, Aven!” Jo gapes at the exposed skin of my arms and legs. Deep purple bruises are blooming across my skin and cuts are opening up, trickling blood.
“Jesus. I’m calling an ambulance.” Cal unclips his phone. With a great deal of effort, I flick my fingers and the phone flies from his hand. He stares as the phone slides across the floor.
“Listen, please. I will be fine. You have to trust me.”
Cal marches over to his phone only to be blocked by Maggie. He reaches down to move the big dog only to have his hand pass through her.
He jumps back. “What the hell!”
“Look, Cal,” Jo forgets her grief for a moment, “Aven is a witch and Maggie is a ghost, okay? What you saw was real, and Aven is suffering the effects of it.” She sits on the bed beside me, and I grimace with the movement that shakes my body painfully. She apologizes and makes a motion to touch me but does not.
“Water,” I whisper. Jo looks at Cal who stares back at her, jaw unhinged.
“The glasses are in the cabinet, top left from the sink.” Jo stares at Cal flatly. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.” He pinches his lips as he turns to the kitchen.
“Jo,” I whisper, my throat burning as if I’ve screamed for hours. “Go, now, seriously. Go to your mother. I’ll be fine.”
She is torn; the struggle in her heart is worn on her face.
“It’s okay, really. Go.”
Cal returns with the glass of water and sets it down hard on the nightstand. Water splashes out of it. Jo takes it and puts it to my lips. I drink greedily.
“I don’t know what the hell all that was, but I’m not buying it.” He turns around and is at the door in a few strides. He whips back around and glares at me. “I was starting to really like you. Then you have to go and pull this shit.” He snatches his phone from the floor and stalks out, his steps pounding down the stairs.
Taking a deep breath, I grimace. “Well, I knew that was going to happen.”
Jo pats my leg gently. “He’s just scared. Men don’t know how to handle fear. He likes you too much to just leave it like that.”
I want to believe her, but I’ve seen that look too many times.
Jo finally agrees to leave, comforted by the fact that Sylvia will take her place. I just need to rest and be alone. Sylvia will be much easier to persuade.
I let the comforting warmth of sleep take me into its embrace as soon as Jo is gone.
17
I see the man clearly in the dark. He stomps down the path and flings the gate open. He turns to the house and glares, shaking his head. He pulls a hand through his hair. He wears a mask of anger, but the smell of fear on him is great.
He is leaving!
I launch myself from the ledge of my woman’s bedroom window where I have observed her hurt and bleeding. She saved the old woman and she pays the price now.
I soar down to the fence and yell at him as I do so. He jumps back as I land on the railing. His mind is not open to me, so I must use words.
“You do not leave her! Not leave her!”
I say this in his language, but it has been so long since I have spoken that it comes out scratched and hard. He wrinkles his brow at me. I clear my throat, which seems to scare him, and he takes a step away from me. I say it again. I think it is better. His head tilts at me, mouth open. I say it again and beat my wings. Much better this time, yes. He knows what I have said. His eyes widen and he backs away more steps. I yell and jump up and down on the railing.
The White Raven Page 13