by T. L. Martin
Priscilla looked at me apologetically. “He’s right, Charlie. Even after the Ancestral Calling has been done, we will need you to stay elsewhere for a while until I can be certain you are safe. As for the Gala, I would cancel it myself if the town council was not already so involved—many of whom are not human. Additionally, individuals from all over the world have already made arrangements to attend. Not only is it likely some of her moles will search for you, but I’m certain Tempest already knows where you live and may try to pull something under our nose. It’s too dangerous.”
I had a feeling Tempest would find a way to reach me no matter where I was.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“She can stay with me.” Desmond stepped out of the shadows, his husky voice decisive.
“No.” I didn’t even hesitate.
Desmond looked taken aback by my response, and something flashed in his eyes. He covered it up quickly, but I could have sworn there was guilt there.
Looking back at Priscilla, I continued, “I’m sorry, but...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Priscilla walked toward me and took a seat to my left, on the opposite side of Pixie.
“Charlie,” she said softly. “I have not forgotten your request. But,” her voice grew grave, “Tempest is just beginning. We don’t know who is working with her, and we cannot jeopardize your safety. Desmond has a house not too far from here, in a secluded part of Yachats. He has already proven on more than one occasion that he can protect you. I only ask that you stay with him until you’re needed back here for the Guardian’s initiation and for us to sync. Even after the ritual has been completed and Tempest’s powers are withdrawn, I’m afraid we will still need to take extra precautions for a little while longer to ensure none of those working with Tempest will attempt to come after you. You can stay with Matt and the Guardians afterward, once their initiation is complete and they’re fully able to look after you. Matt may travel with you tonight, though I’ll need his assistance tomorrow in preparation for the Gala.” She spoke the last sentence with caution. “I anticipate a rather colorful guest list.”
She turned to Matt for his agreement.
“Absolutely.” He was already beginning to look more relaxed, and I wished I could share in his relief.
I was hesitant but didn’t have any other solution to offer. If I only had myself to consider, I could insist on staying elsewhere. But I had to think of all the innocents who could get hurt—or worse—given the awful things Tempest could use me for if she was to get ahold of me before we were prepared. Desmond had already proven his capabilities in protecting me, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I needed him. For now, at least.
“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “Just until the initiation. But what about my aunt’s safety?” I asked, recalling Tempest’s threat.
“Quinn,” Priscilla called, snapping Quinn’s attention back to the room around her.
“Hmm?” she asked vaguely.
“You and Pixie can cast a tracking spell on Stacy, enabling us to keep a close watch over her on her travels. We’ll disperse your protection candles along the perimeter of their house, and you both can look after her if she returns to town.”
Pixie and Quinn both agreed, and Priscilla turned back to me. “I will perform a spell to strengthen her candles, and I, too, will look after your aunt, Charlie. She will be in good hands between the three of us.”
I slowly exhaled, trying to convince myself everything would be okay. I didn’t know about this plan. Not only did it seem like an extreme lack of proper justice, but so much of it relied upon things none of us had any prior experiences with. Not to mention, I had just finished making a promise to Ray that no one else would get hurt. And with a plan like this, where there was simply too much room for error...we were far from prepared for Tempest. Perhaps that’s what she was counting on.
“What are you going to tell her?” Pixie asked gently from beside me. “Your aunt. Between having to stay away this week and the weeks after...won’t she wonder?”
At least that was one thing I didn’t have to worry about.
“She’s been wanting me to study abroad for this medicine thing. She’ll be out of town for the rest of this week anyway, but I can tell her I got accepted for the program.” I looked down. Hopefully that would soon be true, so it wouldn’t be an entire lie.
Priscilla stood again, clasping her hands together assertively. “It’s settled, then. We will all head to Charlie’s house. I’ll see if Susan can keep an eye on Sula just until I get back here. Charlie, you can begin packing some of your belongings when you get there while the rest of us get started on the tracking spell and candles. Matt.” She paused, ensuring she had his full attention. “Be prepared to call on the other Guardians before the week is up.”
Matt raised an eyebrow and let out a loud exhale. “There’s no going back once I do.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He peered momentarily at Priscilla before answering. “Well, the Guardians are connected to you, but we’re also connected to witches. It’s their ancestors who brought us to you, after all.”
I stared at him questioningly, not grasping the concept. “So…?”
“So, you aren’t the only one who will sense when the Guardians are officially summoned. Any witch who’s in tune enough with the ancestors, like the elders or coven leaders, will also instantly feel it.”
I rubbed a finger against my temple, soaking it all in. “So I need the Guardians to help keep me away from the bad guys...but enlisting their help will alert the most powerful witches of my existence.”
It was almost humorous now, listening to it all.
Quinn rose from the sofa and grabbed her black satchel from beside the couch. “Pretty messed up, right?” she said. “Hell, even I’m beginning to think the ancestors are almost as twisted as Tempest.”
Priscilla shot her a warning glance.
“We were all thinking it,” she muttered, before heading toward the front door.
I found myself having trouble disagreeing.
“I’m gonna run and grab the candles first,” she called as she turned the knob. “Charlie, can you collect a few personal things of your aunt’s for the spell, after you pack? Favorite jewelry, her soap bar, slippers...pretty much anything that smells or feels like her will work.”
“Sure,” I answered absently. I needed an off switch. Or at least a pause button.
As the others dispersed to their vehicles, I quietly caught Priscilla’s attention before she left the room. I knew Desmond would still be able to hear us, wherever he was, but I was thankful no one else was within earshot.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, keeping a vague eye on the others.
“I’ve been thinking about everything, and it’s just...there has to be some way to get more answers about me, right? What I am?”
She stopped in place and gave me her undivided attention.
“You said yourself, I’m not the first Opal,” I explained. “Someone has to know more than we do.”
“The first time the Opal surfaced was in the 1700’s,” she answered, matching my quieter tone. “There are a handful of vampires and demons still alive today who were around at the time, but their understanding of it is as limited as ours, if not more so. As far as I have found, any of those directly involved with the Opal are long gone.”
My stomach sank at the final sound of her words. But that couldn’t be it, right? Leaving me to figure this thing out blindly? No...I was desperate. There just had to be more. “It was a stone, right? So couldn’t it still be out there somewhere?”
Priscilla shook her head. “The stone was destroyed, its magic dispersed beneath the earth’s soil...until it found you.”
Me…why me? I didn’t want this burden. This whole thing was a joke, and whoever thought it up must be laughing their heads off right now as they watched me run in endless circles.
“However,” Priscilla said. My eyes gradually shifted back to hers. She was watching me cautiously, and I could already feel the hope resurfacing. “There is hearsay of a journal.”
My ears were on full alert.
“The rumors state that a girl named Adella Aldridge was the keeper of the previous Opal, the stone, in 1726. She documented her journey by writing letters in a journal and then buried the book in an ancestor’s grave just before her death.”
The relief that rushed through my body was instantaneous, and my shoulders relaxed bit by bit. Adella Aldridge. She was my key. Her journal had details about the first Opal before it was destroyed… This was it. This was the answer I’d been looking for. Finally a way to learn more about who I was, what it meant to be the Opal. And how to use it to my advantage with Tempest, or anyone else who thought to come after me.
“Where are the graves?” I asked. I could hear the fresh determination in my voice when I spoke, but I also felt it coursing straight through me.
Priscilla paused shortly before speaking again.
“I know what you’re thinking, Charlie. And, please believe me when I say I wish it were so simple,” she said solemnly. “I would have searched for it long ago, but the ancestral burial grounds are a universally sacred place. We would need to dig who knows how many graves to find it, and disturbing such grounds would undoubtedly have severe consequences. It is far too risky for mere hearsay.”
“Well, did the girl—Adella—did she have any family? Distant relatives? Anyone I can get in contact with?” Priscilla was looking at me apologetically and I knew I had my answer, but I wasn’t ready to give up. “Any other documentation on her?”
Shaking her head, she responded gravely, “I’m afraid not, Charlie. These avenues have all been exhausted time and time again by people hoping to get their hands on it.”
I couldn’t take it, couldn’t take no for answer. Hope was all I had.
She touched a hand to mine, a perception in her eyes I couldn’t match. “We will get through this, dear. And no one else has to get hurt in the process.”
Exiting the room with that, I followed after her until I found myself at Matt’s truck, apathetically climbing inside. There had to be a way to get that journal. Even something as vague as hearsay would be worth looking into at this point.
It wouldn’t take long to pack, but I deliberately took my time. Being alone in my plain bedroom had a calming effect that I gladly welcomed. It was going to be strange sleeping elsewhere. I hadn’t been away from this house in years, and I knew I was going to miss it. I still needed to call my aunt. To tell her about Ray and about my so-called study abroad program. The thought was too much to bear right now, and I shook it away. It could wait until the morning.
If it wasn’t for the door creaking, I would never have known someone approached—and something told me that was intentional. Glancing back to find Desmond standing in my doorway, I returned my attention to my clothes and finished folding a t-shirt. It was easier than looking at him right now.
“May I come in?” he asked softly.
Tucking the shirt into my small, black suitcase, I didn’t respond. The truth was: I knew what I needed to say to him, to ask, and I didn’t know if I was ready to hear his response.
Stepping inside, he gently closed the door behind him. He stayed where he was, which I was grateful for. After a thickening moment of silence, he spoke.
“Charlie, I understand why you don’t want me around. But your safety—”
“Do you?” I interjected, finally looking up. I locked my eyes on his own, struggling not to let his intensity rattle me.
Breaking our gaze, he glanced down at the ground. If I wasn’t mistaken, for the second time that night there was shame in his eyes.
“Of course,” he muttered. “I’m painstakingly aware of what I am. What you’ve seen me do.”
Setting down my things, I rose from the ground and inched my way toward him. I waited for him to lock eyes with me once more before speaking.
“You think I don’t want you around me because you’re a vampire?” I whispered slowly.
I was unnervingly close to him now, but I wasn’t going to let that affect me. I didn’t want him to see the side of me that was afraid, that didn’t know what to believe.
“I’ve seen enough of you to know if you wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already. But let me ask you something, Desmond. Could you think of anything that might make me feel comfortable staying with you after finding out what you did on the night of the Grants Pass Wildfires? That you just stood there and watched while two innocent people suffered horribly, when you could have saved them? Or at least tried to get help?”
My eyes were simmering as the horror of Gavin and Imogen’s deaths resurfaced, and my voice was quiet only for the sake of keeping our words from traveling to the others downstairs.
Desmond did not bother to hide his shock at the accusation.
“This is about Quinn?” he repeated, apparently baffled.
Narrowing my eyes, a hint of bitterness seeped through my words. “No, this isn’t about Quinn. It’s about Gavin and Imogen and anyone else who—because of you—isn’t here to speak for themselves.”
Something flashed in Desmond’s eyes, and he inched closer still, leaving barely a gap between our bodies. My heart was racing now, but I tried to maintain a poker face.
“So this is what you think of me,” he whispered, tracing his eyes along my lips.
“Do you deny it?” With his guard cracking just enough for me to glimpse a softness behind his usually hard eyes and his lips almost close enough to touch mine… It wasn’t until that very moment, nothing but my breathing to disrupt the stillness between us, that I realized how much of me truly hoped he would deny it.
Suddenly, he ripped his gaze away and took a step back, making my stance waver slightly.
“I don’t,” he finally snarled.
I looked down, closing my eyes and trying to steady my trembling hands. So it was true.
When I opened them again, he was gone.
***
Quinn put her car into park and leaned her head back against the headrest, trying to black everything out. Why did she have to get herself into this mess?
A light flicked on from the front porch of Sula’s little cottage before she’d had even a minute to try and collect herself. She groaned, pushing the door open and plastering a smile on her face for Susan. She could shove her problems to the back of her mind for the few minutes it would take to find the wallet she’d left behind. After all, the woman was a sweet lady, and Quinn knew she did not deserve to get the rough end of the stick.
“Hey, Susan,” she greeted, stepping inside the dim and quiet cottage.
Susan smiled kindly as she held the door open with one hand. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in an untidy bun, and judging from the sunken circles they both seemed to share beneath their eyes, Quinn suspected she hadn’t been getting much sleep.
“Hi, honey. I didn’t see a wallet anywhere, but you’re welcome to look around, of course. How have you been?”
“How about we start with you on that one?” Quinn asked with a humorous smirk before she crouched down, peeking around the couch.
“Oh, you know. Trying to soothe a teething baby and figure out how to deal with a seven-year-old who’s secretly a teenager has its challenges. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Quinn had slipped her hand beneath the couch, blindly feeling around. When her skin finally brushed upon something, she wrapped her fingers around it, yanking it out from the shelter of the couch. She immediately squealed in disgust and shook off the rat sized dust ball.
Susan cringed. “I’m afraid we pay much better attention to Sula’s bedroom than her living room,” she murmured apologetically.
“No prob—” Quinn suddenly grinned in triumph as she withdrew a small, black wallet from beneath the couch. “A-ha! I knew it must have fallen down there.” She tu
cked the item into her pocket before turning her attention back to the woman. “So, Caroline’s giving you a run for your money?”
Susan shrugged a shoulder, as though it was no big deal. “It’s all right. Normal kid stuff.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to try me? I started with the rebellion thing in my toddler years, so…I’m pretty much a pro.”
After a slight pause, Susan sighed. “She’s a good girl, really. It’s just… Lately, sometimes it’s like she’s totally zoning out on me.”
“Ah, yes… The Zone,” Quinn repeated exaggeratedly. “She probably just wants a little space. I’m sure if you–”
The sudden, blaring cry only a tiny baby could produce drowned out Quinn’s voice, and Susan retrieved a video monitor from the windowsill. “Oh, shucks,” she murmured.
“Do you need to go check on him?”
Susan shook her head. “No, it’s all right. David’s there, and I’m sure he’s got it.”
They both eyed the monitor as her husband—a small man who wore the buckle of his pants up to his waist—attempted to swaddle the kicking and screaming infant.
“You sure?” Quinn asked, frowning at the struggle.
“Oh, goodness.” Susan’s eyebrows knitted together in concern, and she glanced over at Quinn. “You really wouldn’t mind? It’ll only take a second.”
“Really. Go ahead.”
Susan reached out and squeezed Quinn’s arm. “You’ve always been an angel, Quinn.” She turned on her heel and raced out the door, pausing just barely to call over her shoulder, “Two minutes!”
Quinn smiled softly, watching the woman race off to tend to her child.
An angel, she repeated to herself. That was a new one. And one that couldn’t be further off from the truth, unfortunately—especially these days. She couldn’t help wondering what her life might have been like if she’d had a parent even half as good as Susan. If she hadn’t had to dig this hole for herself. But she quickly pushed the thought away. It never benefited anyone to go down that road, and she knew it might swallow her completely if she did.