“Stop this at once,” Jasper snapped, gathering his own magic toward him so that it pooled in his hands. “You’ll only burn yourself out, Wisteria. Reconstructions are utterly benign.”
“But the power of three isn’t benign, is it, Uncle?” I shouted over him, raising my arms to encompass the dozens upon dozens of reconstructions I’d called forth. Dozens of Declans, Jasmines, and Wisterias. Dozens of images of Jasper. Layers and layers of residual magic.
Declan whirled his blasting rod in his right hand.
Jasmine reached out to the ceiling, toward the electrical wiring.
Power twisted back and forth between us, shared magic building around and through us in a tightly wound coil. The estate magic responded, surging beneath our feet.
I kept my gaze glued to Jasper. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Then I pressed forward with our combined magic, wordlessly commanding the residual that I’d called forth.
The reconstructions stopped moving, stopped repeating.
“We never needed you, though.” With a deliberate swipe of my hand, all the echoes of Jasper disappeared. With another push of intention, all the echoes of Declan, Jasmine, and Wisteria shifted. They stood shoulder to shoulder, arrayed before us like soldiers.
I shouldn’t have been able to manipulate the residual in such a way. But Jasper had made us. Had combined us into something more powerful than any one witch should be.
“Oh my God …” Violet said.
Jasper snarled, raising his hands toward us. They pulsed with dark-blue energy.
Jasmine reached out with her magic and tore the electrical wires from the ceiling.
Then, as one, we attacked.
Declan hurled his blasting rod like a club toward Jasper. Jasmine slammed the live wires against the circle, hitting multiple points all at once. And I marched the reconstructions over our parents.
Magic exploded through the basement.
The foundations of the house shook.
Wood splintered.
The air sizzled.
Our parents scattered, throwing themselves to the sides.
And Jasper’s circle cracked.
Before the magic cleared, I ran straight for Jasper with Jasmine on my left and Declan on my right. The reconstructions of ourselves, the echoes of our childhood, ran with us.
One of the girls trapped in the circle with Jasper started screaming, then the other. The children had woken. But I blocked out the sound. I had one job. Jasper. I had to let Jasmine and Declan see to everything else.
An orb of magic flew toward me, most likely whatever spell Jasper had been preparing. As I sidestepped it, Declan actually punched whatever Jasper had thrown out of the air.
More magic exploded. Our parents were suddenly scrambling around us, shouting. Slate stepped into my path, but before I could assess if he was acting as friend or foe, Jasmine hit him with something that took him down and left him convulsing.
My reconstructions poured into Jasper’s circle through the crack that Declan and Jasmine had made. Still running, I slammed my right palm and all the magic I’d gathered in my bracelet into the damaged circle.
Magic boomed throughout the basement, knocking everyone but Jasper and me to the ground.
“Impressive,” Jasper said, smiling proudly. He was holding the knife he’d used to kill Bluebell. When he caught me looking at it, his smile widened.
Though I couldn’t see them, I could feel Jasmine and Declan gaining their feet behind me. The children had scrambled together for protection near the white candle on the eastern edge of the circle, wrapping their arms around each other but not making a sound. The two older kids, Jack and Ruby, had Dawn sandwiched between them.
My reconstructions filled every other inch of the space, creating a path between my uncle and me. They were waiting for instructions.
I smiled at the children. Then I stepped into the broken circle.
Jasper laughed. “Mistake number one, Wisteria.”
Magic churned as the circle sealed closed behind and around me. Jasper had resurrected the boundary, hoping to cut me off from Declan and Jasmine.
I raised my fists. Magic boiled in my right hand and all around my bracelet. “Actually, Uncle,” I said coolly. “It’s all going exactly as planned.”
He frowned.
“You’ve forgotten,” I said. “The estate remembers. And the house likes me better.”
Lark appeared behind Jasper, moving through his hastily restored circle without apparent effort. I didn’t know whether she could do so because she was tied to me, or because Jasper hadn’t thought to ward himself against brownie magic. She moved toward the children, pressing her finger to her lips to caution them to remain quiet. Then she fished a blade from her pocket and sliced into the circle, just above the white candle.
Jasper spun toward her. I punched him in the kidneys. Well, where his kidneys would have been if he hadn’t been shielded.
He whirled to face me, livid as he slashed his knife across where my neck should have been. Except I’d danced back.
Lark finished cutting a hole in the circle. Declan appeared on the other side of the opening, silently coaxing Dawn to crawl out toward him.
Jasper slashed the blade at me a second time, drawing my attention back to him. He hit the shield I was trying to hold between us, knocking me sideways. I spun, falling to one knee.
I called the reconstructions to me, gathering them all around me while I shook off Jasper’s blow. They were so infused with my magic that I had practically given them mass.
Jasper slashed fruitlessly at the echoes, at every Declan, every Jasmine, every Wisteria. Panting with the effort, he then backed off, pausing to gather more magic.
On the other side of the barrier, Declan passed Dawn to Grey, then kneeled back down, reaching for Ruby. I risked a glance over my shoulder, looking for Jasmine and finding her and Violet helping Rose up the stairs.
I pulled my attention back to Jasper as I slowly made it to my feet.
“Wisteria Elizabeth Marie Fairchild,” Jasper intoned. “Come to me.”
Jasper’s compulsion hit me hard, driving me back against the edge of the circle and pinning me there. The spell ripped through my shield, digging into my skin.
My vision became muddy. The reconstructions pressed against me, incapable of helping.
Jasper laughed, stepping closer.
Somewhere beyond the circle, Jasmine screamed my name.
“Jasmine …” I gasped my cousin’s name. Then I pinned my gaze to my uncle’s. “You can’t have me, Jasper. I already belong to someone else. Two someones. You made it so.”
The magic released me, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. The reconstructions pressed against me, trying to help me get up.
Jasper snarled. But instead of pressing his advantage, he spun around, stalking back to where Jack was trying to crawl through the hole in the circle.
I tried to scream a warning to the boy, but still fighting the residual of the compulsion spell, I couldn’t manage more than a shrill shriek.
Declan appeared on the other side of the circle, grabbing Jack’s arms just as Jasper grabbed his leg. Jasper thrust his hand forward, slamming some sort of spell through the hole in the circle. It hit Declan in the chest, and he tumbled out of my sight.
Jasper dragged Jack back from the hole into the center of the circle. The boy silently fought him every inch of the way, battering Jasper’s shields with wild magic as he clawed at the dirt.
I gained my feet again, already gathering my shredded shields.
Jasper flipped the boy onto his back, holding him pinned in place with the magic he wielded so effortlessly. He raised his knife over Jack’s chest. Then he looked at me.
“Let’s see you shake this off.”
Lark appeared between him and the boy.
I lunged forward, pummeling Jasper with the reconstructions. But even as I did, I knew I was going to be too late.
The knife arced f
orward, then down.
Jack wrapped his hand around Jasper’s bare ankle, hitting him with some sort of wildly conjured spell. It barely touched my uncle, but it slowed him.
Gathering the ragged edges of my magic around me in the strongest shield I could conjure, I threw myself between Jasper and Lark.
Jasper’s knife hit my shield.
The brownie grabbed the boy, dragging him away.
The blade sliced through all the magic I held against it. Jasper’s washed-out blue eyes widened, his anger transforming into surprise. His shoulders shifted, as if he might be trying to take the edge off his blow.
The knife caught me just underneath the rib cage, then buried itself to the hilt in my flesh.
Jasper gasped.
I looked down at the blade protruding out of me. “You always were too powerful,” I mumbled.
“Wisteria …” my uncle whispered in disbelief.
Pain exploded through my torso, radiating through my chest and stomach, then down my legs. The magic that the blade carried was more deadly than the wound itself.
I stumbled back. The reconstructions pressed against me, holding me upright.
“Wisteria!” Jasper cried, reaching for me.
“No!” I slapped him back with a desperate pulse of magic. “You don’t get to touch me.” I reached down and wrapped my hand around the hilt of the knife.
“Don’t touch that, Wisteria!” Panic laced Jasper’s command as he reached out to the circle and tore the barrier down. “Rose! Rose!”
I could smell smoke suddenly. Something was on fire. Heedless, I pulled out the knife.
“No!” Jasper lunged for me.
The reconstructions welled up around us, momentarily holding him at bay.
I held the knife aloft, blood dripping from the blade. My blood. I could feel the magic contained within it. So much underutilized power.
“This wasn’t … this can’t be …” Jasper was muttering, pressing against the reconstructions.
“I’m dying,” I said calmly. “I can feel my magic shifting. And I know how that feels because of you, Jasper. Because of when you killed Bluebell.”
“Listen to me carefully, Wisteria,” my uncle said, ignoring me. “Gather the magic of the estate around you. Don’t move, don’t expend any more energy. I’ll summon Rose.”
“It’s going to be okay, Jasper. Because I’m going to take you with me. And then Jasmine and Declan will be free.” I laughed harshly. “Free of both of us.”
The reconstructions flew at Jasper, dissolving against the shields he held around him in a glittering display. He stumbled back, but they were just a distraction. I could never broach his shields with just the echoes of magic.
I reached for and claimed the power of my own life essence. I gathered it, readying one word, packing all the magic I could into a single name.
“Jasper …” I whispered.
Magic was ripped from me, tearing through my uncle’s shield and breaking his back a second time.
He screamed as he crumpled to the ground.
I stumbled toward him, falling, the knife still in my hand. I dragged myself up his body until I could lock eyes with him.
“Goodbye, Uncle,” I whispered.
He gurgled something in pain.
Then I slit his throat. Blood streamed out of him, spraying across my hands and forearms.
I pushed back from him as I tried to stand, but I made it only to my knees. I lost hold of the knife. Magic twisted through me, claiming my own death.
And it hurt. It burned.
No. It was the basement that was ablaze.
I looked across the chamber, seeing Declan, Jasmine, and Jack still at the base of the stairs. Except there weren’t any stairs that I could see. The walls and much of the ceiling were on fire. No sort of protection, magical or otherwise, had ever been applied to the old wooden beams and posts, the open rafters. The basement floor was dry dirt, no hint of moisture in the air. Nothing would contain the blaze.
Declan was trying to clear a path through the burning rubble that had swallowed the stairwell. Jasmine had turned back, looking for me. She spotted me kneeling next to Jasper.
Him dead. And me dying.
I smiled at her. It was all I could do.
She screamed, trying to shove Jack into Declan’s arms so she could run to me.
I frowned, all my thoughts made distant by the pain searing through me. Jasmine and Declan … they were going to die down here … with me and Jasper.
That hadn’t been the plan.
I pressed my hands into the blood still pouring from my uncle, effortlessly harnessing his life essence.
“Wisteria!” Jasmine screamed again, trying now to run through the fire that had swiftly shifted to rage between us. Declan grabbed her before she could hurt herself. Jack’s face was streaked with tears and soot.
“I love you …” I said. Then, with Jasper’s magic pooled in my hands, I visualized picking Jasmine, Declan, and Jack up and placing them gently down in the orchard, right beside the rabbit hutch we’d built so many years ago. Right where I knew they’d be safe.
The magic obeyed me without question, gathering around them.
Jasmine screamed. “No!”
“I love you,” I whispered again.
They disappeared.
I had only the fire for company now. But that didn’t matter, because I was done. I had given up. I’d given in. I slipped forward across Jasper without even bothering to stop my fall.
And death was warm … comfortable … peaceful …
I reached for the darkness eagerly waiting for my soul, ready to greet me as an old friend.
Chapter 12
I was still dying. It was taking too long, but there was nothing to do about it. Annoyingly, I kept floating in and out of consciousness, aware of the manor as it collapsed around me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move.
Even if some miracle were to occur, I didn’t want to be broken like Jasper. I didn’t want to be a burden to Jasmine and Declan.
The heat of the fire was intense. The blaze had to be sucking all the oxygen out of the basement, so if the magic coursing through me didn’t end me, I expected I would suffocate. Hopefully before the flames got to me.
Something shifted to my right.
No … not something.
Someone.
Rose.
I wasn’t certain how my aunt had gotten into the basement — then I remembered that Jasper had tried to summon her. He must have been successful.
She was crawling toward me, laying her hand on my shoulder. “Wisteria.”
“You need to go.” I wasn’t certain I’d spoken out loud. I wasn’t certain I was capable of speech, of moving my mouth to form words.
But even if she heard my warning, instead of heeding it, instead of leaving, Rose pulled me into her lap.
I screamed with the pain of being moved. Then I blacked out once more.
I became aware again. Rose was singing a lullaby she used to sing to Jasmine, Declan, and me when she thought the three of us were asleep and couldn’t hear her. I’d forgotten that.
Those moments of tenderness had been buried underneath all the terrible memories I’d called forth in the basement to fight Jasper. All the moments I’d forced myself to forget.
Rose’s magic, weak as it was, danced across my torso. She was trying to heal the stab wound. But it wasn’t the wound that was slowly killing me.
“Rose …” I croaked. “Rose. Don’t.” I’d expended too much magic. I’d known I was doing so when I reconstructed all the basement’s residual energy at once, fueling the echoes of our childhood with my own magic. With the power of three. Then I had used my own life essence to take down Jasper. Even with the estate magic still roiling around us, Rose wasn’t strong enough to heal me.
“They’ll need you now, Wisteria,” my aunt said. “You’ll have to hold them together.”
The house was still burning. The flames had form
ed a neat ring of fire around us, maybe ten feet away. It was as if something was holding it back. The edges of Jasper’s circle? I could see my uncle sprawled out next to me, his face turned away. His white T-shirt was soaked in his own blood.
Dead by my hand. Murdered. And I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry about it.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since that moment. Maybe only minutes.
I tried to push Rose away but I couldn’t lift my arms. She was stroking my hair, whispering words between the tune she was humming.
“I always wanted you to be mine. My child, not just my niece.”
She leaned over, her white-streaked hair falling in a tangle all around my face. Her eyes shone bright blue with her witch magic.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. My throat was so dry I could barely get the words out. “I should have known he was holding you. I should have come sooner.”
“You don’t say sorry to me, Wisteria Elizabeth Marie Fairchild. I love you. I love you, my niece, my baby. I didn’t bring you into this world, but I can hold you here.”
She pressed a light kiss to my forehead, and her magic rushed through me. My fingers twitched, then my legs.
My aunt had stopped humming, stopped moving.
“Rose? Rose?”
Her magic ebbed away, the final strains of it seeping into my skin.
“Rose!”
I managed to move, to shift her off me. She slumped to the side.
Then something above us cracked, and a main beam of the roof snapped, swinging down directly over us.
I fruitlessly flung myself across Rose. The air shifted around us. But the blow I’d been expecting across my shoulders didn’t fall.
I looked up.
Kett was holding one end of the beam. His hands were ablaze. Dining room furniture was raining down across the basement, china and glass shattering within the ring of flames that still held around us.
“Move, Wisteria,” Kett said.
“Rose —”
“Dead. Move. Now.”
I rolled away. Kett let the beam drop, sweeping me up in his arms at the same time.
I clung to him.
The inferno raged around us. Kett pivoted, looking for an exit. I couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten into the basement — but by the burns slowly healing on his face and shoulders, he had come through the fire.
Unleashing Echoes (Reconstructionist 3) Page 23