Unpredictable (Waifwater Chronicles Book 2)

by Laken Cane

  Sadie and Elmer watched her, tails wagging impatiently.

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “I’m coming.”

  She patted her chest, as though that might help slow her galloping heart, and then she grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and shoved the unmoving empath through her little house, out the door, and into her yard, the hounds at her heels. They were curious, excited, and just a little worried as they milled around the wheelbarrow, snatching the occasional rude sniff and quick lick. Abby didn’t reprimand them.

  “Toad,” she called. “Come to me. I’ve brought your mistress.”

  She didn’t have to repeat herself. Toad the cat slinked around the corner of the house like a puff of dark smoke. He stared at his frozen mistress, meowing accusingly.

  “Jump in,” Abby told the cat, and he didn’t hesitate. He leapt to Becky’s chest, stretched, turned around twice, then lay down. Finally, he closed his long, gray eyes and went right to sleep. “That’s right,” Abby said. “Take a little catnap.”

  She was pretty sure the cat was as pitiless as his mistress.

  Then she pushed the wheelbarrow across her yard and all the way down One Hex Hollow. All the way to Waifwater Woods.

  It wasn’t far, but her excitement, fear, and sense of urgency made it seem like the longest journey she’d ever taken.

  The dogs followed, silent and watchful.

  She parked the wheelbarrow and went to peer into Becky’s face. Only the empath’s eyes moved, and they were not filled with anything good.

  “I’m going to unfreeze you,” Abby told her. “I’ll need you to hop that ditch and throw yourself into those woods. The fence has already been cut. Blink if you’re ready.”

  Becky blinked.

  Abby lifted Toad from Becky’s chest, then went to stand by the fence. She saw no sign of the ghost. Finally, she lifted her wand and released Becky’s body.

  The woman did not come out of her paralysis cursing or threatening or screaming. She simply sat up, dusted off her sleeves, and climbed carefully from the wheelbarrow.

  “Someday,” Becky said, calmly, “we will have this out.”

  “I’ll be waiting, old friend,” Abby told her. “Go.”

  “I don’t think I will,” Becky said. “I think I’ll save Waifwater Woods for another day.”

  Abby held up her wand, and in her other hand she hefted Toad. “If I throw him in, you’ll never find him. Don’t mess with me.” Becky had to know Abby could paralyze her again, then float her into the woods—but anything could happen to her while she lay in the woods, unable to move.

  Abby didn’t want to do such a heinous thing—not even to Becky Bates.

  And Becky didn’t want her to.

  “I’ll go,” she said, then shrugged. “I’m excited about the woods, actually.”

  So Abby thrust the cat into Becky’s arms, then shoved the girl through the fence. When Becky went through, it was as though some of the contents of those woods leaked out through the opening, and Abby heard the raucous, distant cawing of crows.

  She shuddered, and leaving the wheelbarrow behind, she turned her back on Becky Bates and the mysterious Waifwater Woods and began to walk back home. “Ghost,” she called. “Where are you?”

  By the time she’d reached home, there was still no sign of him, but she couldn’t wait. There was much to do before she left for her trip. A trip from which she might never return, despite Jewel’s assurances. There was always a possibility that something would go wrong.

  She packed a silk bag with her version of a first aid kit and other things she might need--small packets of dried herbs and powders, vials of charmed liquids for healing, poisoning, influencing. Packets of concentrated food. A silver, collapsible dipper that would help if water were scarce. Lights. Fire. Her knife.

  Magic.

  She hurried into a pair of soft, worn jeans, a cotton t-shirt, and a roomy button-up shirt with two large pockets. She grabbed a lightweight, rainproof jacket to wear over her clothes; one with four large outer and one enormous inner pocket. A witch could never have too many places to stash things.

  She slipped her obedient want into the inner pocket, then filled the other compartments with the silk bag, food, and other items.

  She had no idea what type of weather she would face in the woods, so she laced up a heavy pair of boots suitable for hiking and walking through mud.

  “I’m glad I don’t wear makeup,” she muttered, then paused at the chest holding her masks. But in the end, the left them where they lay.

  She really doubted she’d be the scariest looking thing in the woods.

  Next, she phoned the Featherclaw Village main hall and asked them to tell Remy it was urgent that the wolf visit her. Even as she said it, she screwed her eyes shut in dismay. She was about to trust her mother and Jewel to Remy.

  But Eli trusted the woman, so she would trust her as well.

  A few minutes later she paused in her work, her hands stilling. She’d felt a sudden coolness, a puff of chilly air wafting across her warm cheeks.

  “I know you’re there, ghost,” she murmured. “I was about to leave without you.”

  “You will take me?” he whispered.

  She put down the bag she was holding and turned to face him. He was little more than a glimmer of light and she got the feeling he was somehow weaker. “I will.”

  His light swayed. “I thought you might. And I will be honored to be inside you.”

  “Just find my alpha, Trace.”

  “I will find him.”

  Remy arrived fifteen minutes later, not as her wolf, but in a small, red convertible. She got out and jogged to the porch where Abby waited.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, hurrying up the steps. “They said it was urgent. Have you…”

  Abby pulled her inside. “There’s little time. I need to show you something. I’ll explain as we walk. Hurry now. Come, Trace.”

  “Trace?” Remy asked.

  Still, at the door to pocket, Abby hesitated. “A ghost. He’s going to help me. Remy, I can trust you, can’t I?”

  Remy frowned as she darted quick looks around the spell room, her gaze flitting from Jasmint, one of the cats, to the cauldron, to the slightly glowing door. “Yes,” she said. “You can trust me.”

  Sadie and Elmer waited quietly at the pocket door, and Camilla leaned against the wall between them.

  Abby grasped Camilla and turned her upside down, then slid her into the sheath at her back. She’d use the broom as a walking stick when she needed to, and ride her when necessary, but the rest of the time the broom would sit calmly in her sheath, ready to serve when she was needed.

  She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, allowing her mind to slow down, to clear. She then pressed the wand into the keyhole, put her palm into the depression on the door. “You won’t be able to see it as I can,” she told Remy, “but memorize this position. If the time should come and you need inside the pocket, your hand in the depression will summon Jewel or Mother.”

  Remy nodded, her eyes wide, and Abby spoke the words Basilia expected to hear.

  And when it was over, the door swung open. Abby stepped through, her familiars at her heels. The wolf and the ghost followed.

  “Holy fuck,” Remy whispered. “Is this for real?”

  “Abby,” Trace murmured. “What secrets you keep. Not even I have seen this one.”

  Each second that raced by put Abby just a little farther from the alpha. The urgency of it set her heart to pounding and her stomach tossing.

  “This is my mother,” she told Remy, “and this is my sister. Neither of them can leave the pocket. While I’m gone, you must take care of them. There are enough supplies to last them for the next two weeks.” She hesitated. “If I’m not back long before then…” She shook her head and clamped her lips shut, unable to finish.

  Remy couldn’t stop her awestruck stare from roving the world she found behind the door in Abby’s spell room. “What is this place? I
mean, what is it?”

  “Magic,” Abby said, dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that in order to go after Eli—”

  Remy gasped. “You’re going after Eli?”

  “Abby, what is happening?” Basilia stared at the new wolf, her eyes as wide as Remy’s. Then she looked at Sadie and Elmer. “What is happening?”

  Abby glared at Jewel. “You didn’t tell her anything?”

  “No.” She glanced at Abby’s clothes. “Did you bring me—”

  “Yes, yes,” Abby said, yanking the backpack off her shoulder. “Here. But see that these don’t keep you so occupied that you forget about me.”

  Jewel’s eyes glowed and she snatched the bag from Abby. “All right.” She looked at Trace. “Hello.”

  “Abby,” Basilia shouted. “What’s happening?”

  “I’d like an answer to that question as well,” Remy growled.

  Abby faced them both. “Jewel has found a way into Waifwater Woods from the pocket,” she started.

  Basilia gasped and put a hand to her chest, and Remy only stared—but her eyes began to shine with hope.

  “I’m going in after Eli. Jewel will tether me to her—please don’t ask how, Remy—and she will be here to guide us home once I’ve found him.”

  Basilia shook her head. “No. I won’t allow it. That’s dangerous and—”

  “Mama,” Abby said, gently. “I will bring him home. I must.”

  “I can’t lose you, too,” Basilia cried. “Don’t go, Abigail!” She turned on Jewel. “You wicked, wicked child!”

  Jewel stared through her hair, expressionless, clutching the bag of dolls to her chest, and for a moment, Abby’s doubts and good sense overrode her desperation.

  But then Jewel straightened, shoved back her thick hair, and spoke. Not like a demented child, but like a young woman with power, confidence, and intelligence. “I love my sister, Mother. I would not send her to her death. Her happiness is inside those woods. I will bring her home. I will bring them both home.” She stared down her nose at Basilia, and there was not a shred of doubt in her strange, demon eyes.

  Basilia looked from Jewel to Abby. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Basilia nodded. “Jewel’s power has grown enormously. You see it.”

  “I do.”

  “She’ll bring you home.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t chance it if I didn’t believe in her.”

  “The hounds will keep you safe.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “And your obedient wand.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve become stronger in the last few weeks. You’ve harnessed your power at last. You fought Acadia’s demons. You can fight whatever comes at you in those woods.”

  “Mama,” Abby said, gently. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll come back to you.”

  Basilia grasped her daughter’s shoulders, then kissed her forehead. “I have something for you, something you must take with you. Wait here.” She turned and hurried to her cottage.

  Remy shuddered, then rubbed her arms. “I’ll take care of your family, Abby. Go get our alpha.” She looked at Jewel. “When she’s gone, you’ll tell me the story of this place.”

  She wasn’t asking, but Jewel didn’t seem to mind the wolf’s imperiousness. She nodded. “It is a good story.”

  Remy snorted. “It’d have to be, wouldn’t it?”

  Basilia returned, a small package in her arms. She thrust it at Abby. “Put this away. Put it away. When you need it, you’ll find it.”

  Abby slid the small, paper-wrapped package into one of her jacket pockets. “Remy will take care of you, Mother. Oh, I almost forgot.” She’d belted a pack around her hips, but it wasn’t for her. “Your candy. Eat it when you need it, okay? Do not overindulge. It’ll make you sick.”

  “I will see to it,” Jewel said. “Our mother will be all right, Abby.”

  Abby nodded, then turned to Remy. “They’ll tell you everything you need to know.” She hesitated. “This secret can’t get out, Remy. Ever.”

  Remy lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t even attempt to explain something like this, Abby. Besides, if I did, my alpha would kick my ass.” And she smiled. “Go get him.”

  Abby nodded. “I will.”

  Jewel turned and strode away.

  “Jewel,” Abby called. “Wait.”

  “Hug our mother and come with me,” Jewel commanded, “before the alpha is lost forever.”

  Trace drifted along beside Jewel. “Come, Abby,” he urged.

  Abby grabbed Basilia in a tight hug, shot a glance at Remy, and then without another hesitation, she raced after Jewel, the hounds right behind her.

  “I’ll be back, Mother,” she yelled, as she ran.

  “I know, dear.”

  Maybe there was a hint of sorrow and doubt in Basilia’s voice. Maybe Abby was being foolhardy and careless. Maybe she was allowing the hope of finding Eli to override her caution.

  But she didn’t believe any of that.

  Not really.

  She believed she was following her destiny, and that it was time to see what waited inside Waifwater Woods.

  It was time to be the Witch.

  Chapter Ten

  They walked for about fifteen minutes before Jewel led Abby and the dogs across a stream, then climbed a small incline. “The doorway into Waifwater Woods.” Her voice was hushed, as though even she had begun to crumble beneath the weight of the coming journey.

  “I wish you could come with me,” Abby said, surprised to realize that truth.

  “I will be with you.” Jewel tapped Abby’s forehead. “In here.” Then she pointed at something behind Abby. “There is the doorway, Sister.”

  Abby looked to where Jewel was pointing, unsurprised when she saw no door. She knew enough to stare silently until finally, she saw pale silver flashes where the air rippled.

  She took a deep breath and placed her palms on Sadie and Elmer’s warm heads. The contact comforted her.

  “You will do the transfer now,” Trace told Jewel.

  “Aren’t you afraid of the woods?” Jewel asked him. There was no sign of mockery in her voice. She was genuinely curious. “Anything could be waiting there.”

  “My body is waiting there,” he replied, grimly. “Nothing else matters.”

  “What does your physical body look like?” the little demon asked. “I can only see you as a faded circus clown.”

  He snorted.

  “I see him as thin and rather short with blond hair and watery blue eyes,” Abby said. “Are you saying you don’t see him that way?”

  “You will see your expectations,” Trace told them. He darted a look at Jewel. “Or as your first impression. Interesting to know you see me as a clown and the witch sees me as a skinny white boy.”

  “Are you ready, Jewel?” Abby asked.

  “Of course.”

  Abby turned to Trace. “And you?”

  His nod was resolute.

  Abby gave Jewel a nod. “Begin, Jewel.”

  Jewel had secrets.

  She was full of mystery and darkness and not even Abby or Basilia knew all she was or everything she could do.

  When she began the incantations that would start the process of transference, she held Abby spellbound with not only her voice—which was at once deep and light, dark and bright, whispery and loud—but with her presence. With her knowledge. And most of all, with her power.

  Abby clenched her wand, unable to take her stare off the demon child. She’s not a child. Not anymore.

  She never really had been, though, had she?

  Briefly, Trace hung back, unwilling to give himself over to Jewel, Abby, and maybe most especially to Waifwater Woods.

  The reality of it would have been overwhelming—even for a man with no body.

  But finally he stood at Abby’s side, and neither Abby nor Jewel needed to tell him what to do. He turned to Abby and though she couldn’t reall
y feel him, he aligned his body with hers, and he laced his intangible fingers with her flesh and blood ones.

  Jewel’s voice undulated through the air, rising and falling, and Abby shuddered as it wrapped around her like a huge, cold snake.

  Jewel cut off her voice abruptly and the sudden silence was so disorienting that Abby reeled backward, nearly falling before she regained her balance.

  “Your wand,” Jewel told her, hand out. “Give it to me.”

  Abby clutched her wand. “Jewel.” It’s mine.

  “Give it to me, Sister.”

  Jewel’s hair waved gently in the power she’d created, and for one brief second, her resemblance to Acadia was remarkable. And frightening.

  But Acadia was her mother. Of course she’d resemble her.

  “Quickly,” Jewel snapped.

  Abby blew out a calming breath, then held out her obedient wand.

  Trace’s spirit floated before her. He’d become little more than a silvery, translucent blur, like a long column of fog.

  Jewel snatched the wand from Abby’s reluctant grip, swirled it through the air, then pointed it at the ghost. She didn’t speak—she hummed.

  And Abby’s mouth opened, but not of her own volition. Jewel had seized control of her body and Trace’s spirit, and she directed them like a puppet master.

  Never in her life had Abby ever heard of someone using a witch’s obedient wand as though it were her own. It simply wasn’t possible.

  But Jewel made it possible.

  Maybe Jewel could do anything.

  Waving the wand like an orchestral conductor, her murmured incantations twisting and dancing through the air, Jewel began to manipulate the spirit into the witch.

  The breeze picked up and blew Abby’s hair off her shoulders. It weaved playfully through her clothes, and she caught the scent of brimstone as the wind turned suddenly hot.

  Goosebumps covered her body and she shivered in that heat, her breathing fast and shallow.

  “Jewel,” she cried, afraid.

  For Jewel was a stranger.

  Jewel looked at her, and her eyes were no longer hidden by her hair. They blazed with colors, red and green and full of fire, and something so ancient and mysterious that Abby had no name for it.