Pledge (Witches of Coventry House Book 1)

by Christina Garner

  Jules had been so sad when that one had returned her.

  “They cut back on funding, you see.” She’d stared at the floor, her hands twisting her apron. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t afford to keep you. I’ve got my real kids to think about.”

  Jules had cried and told her that she was a real kid too, but the woman hadn’t met her eyes. Funny that she couldn’t remember her name now. It had seemed so important then.

  She gathered her courage and hurried down the last of the steps. Get through it, she told herself. Get through it, and get on with your life.

  A skittering sound behind her broke her resolve. Not the rats, not the rats! But she didn’t dare scream. She knew better than to scream when she was being punished. There were things worse than basements and rats.

  An old broom lay propped against the wall, and she grabbed it, turning toward the source of the sound. Half a dozen eyes glowed at her, and as scary as that was, she was grateful she could at least make them out. Nothing was as bad as when she was in total—

  The sphere of light above her vanished, and this time she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.

  Chapter 25

  Eden trudged back to her dorm, replaying the conversation with Quinn. She tried telling herself he was a jerk, but she knew he wasn’t. He was a truly decent guy who no longer wanted anything to do with her.

  Just like Sarah. And magic, apparently.

  Before she realized where she was going, she’d crossed the quad and passed her dormitory. She was headed toward the forest that bordered part of the campus.

  It was curiosity; that was all. The sisters had spooked them with talk of this test since she’d pledged. It was only natural that she’d want to know what all the fuss was about.

  She knew the house Brianne had spoken of. She’d seen it on her hike with Quinn. How many creepy old houses could there be in a town this small?

  The farther she got from the campus, the darker it became, and she called on illumino, only to have it sputter and die in her hand.

  The knot in the back of her mind buzzed furiously, but she ignored it.

  How could a memory she didn’t remember be such a pain?

  She reached the ring of trees and pulled out her phone. She tapped on the flashlight and stepped into the woods.

  For five minutes Eden struggled through overgrown brush. She was about to admit defeat when she found the trail.

  At least something went right today, she thought, squeezing between two shrubs to reach it.

  She walked another ten minutes until she reached a bluff that overlooked a clearing. The beam of her flashlight was just strong enough to make out the shape of a house.

  It wouldn’t hurt just to take a peek.

  Sarah clawed at the door until her fingers were bloody, but no one came.

  Maybe the sisters had left, maybe it was magical soundproofing, but there seemed to be only one way out—pass the test. Once she had, she could warn Eden that someone—someone dark and dangerous—was coming for her.

  Sarah stepped deeper into the blackness.

  “Bring it,” she said. Whatever evil fantasy the sisters had conjured up for her, it was nothing compared with what was after Eden.

  “Evil is no fantasy,” a voice hissed, and Sarah turned, her blood freezing in her veins. Her mother loomed over her, flames where her eyes should be. “Dance with the devil, and it’s him that calls the tune.”

  Her mother’s presence drove out all other thought—left room for nothing else.

  “You aren’t really here,” Sarah stammered. It was just a test.

  God, she looks real.

  “Thou shalt not take his name in vain,” her mother’s voice boomed.

  How was she reading Sarah’s thoughts?

  “You keep no secrets from me, girl,” her mother cackled. “I see you. I know who you are—what you are. I’ve always known. You’re the devil’s spawn—sent to punish me for my sins.”

  Sarah cowered, sinking to the floor. “I’m not, Mama,” she whimpered. “I’m not your punishment. I’m your daughter.”

  Her mother loomed above her.

  “You’re an abomination.” She poked a finger between Sarah’s brows. “See.”

  Half a dozen glowing, red eyes regarded Jules in the utter darkness. Her pulse raced, and she told herself to calm down. There was something she was supposed to see. She just needed to see it, and then she could get the hell out of here.

  She stepped back and found herself pressed against the wall, the chill of the cement seeping into her bones and mixing with the fear already there.

  Jules raised the broom, ready to strike if any of those rats came any closer.

  “Show me already!” she screamed.

  Her head slammed back into the wall, rattling her brain in her skull, and then even the rats disappeared.

  Her mother’s touch on her forehead sent Sarah’s eyes rolling back in her head. She cried out in pain. When she looked up, her mother was gone.

  In her place stood misty figures that slowly solidified, becoming Sarah and her first crush, Robbie Porter. Through fifth and sixth grade they’d been inseparable—always at each other’s house.

  Sarah’s mother had found it sweet until she found them alone together in Sarah’s room. All they’d been doing was reading—sprawled out on the floor surrounded by graphic novels—but her mother had hit the roof. Sarah watched as the scene played out in front of her, feeling everything she had as if she were still twelve.

  “You two are getting too old to be playing alone together,” her mother said, once she’d told Robbie it was time to go home.

  “We don’t play,” Sarah said. “We’re not babies. We were reading.”

  “He has a crush on you, Sarah, and boys will be boys. So even though you have a crush on him, you need to behave properly.”

  But Robbie wasn’t her crush. Not the way all of her friends described it. She didn’t think about kissing him, didn’t doodle his name.

  She watched as the scene flashed forward to when Robbie tried to kiss her—saw her young self laugh and push him away. Only, now she saw the hurt on his face and realized that it hadn’t been a joke to him.

  They’d grown apart after that, and Sarah had never been sure why. But now it made sense. He’d felt about her the way she was supposed to feel about him.

  The scene shifted, and now it was seventh grade. She and Janie were flipping through magazines and talking about celebrities. This memory was stronger, and instead of being a bystander, she was pulled in, suddenly thirteen again.

  “You’re telling me you never practice?” Janie said. “Not ever? Not even with your pillow?”

  “With my pillow?” Sarah’s face flushed.

  “Well, whatever—what about on the back of your hand?”

  “Ew—no!” Sarah said. “You make out with your hand?”

  “One day, Troy is going to kiss me, and I’m going to be ready,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Well if you’re that worried about it you can practice on me.” Sarah couldn’t bring herself to look up from the glossy pages in front of her.

  She feigned nonchalance and turned a few, but her stomach was doing flips. Janie had moved to the neighborhood only a month ago, but they had already become best friends. Everything was better when Janie was around—Sarah hated when she had to say goodbye and she watched from the window as Janie walked down the street toward her house.

  The part of adult Sarah that remained felt her stomach tighten. It had been Janie’s idea to practice—that’s how she always remembered it. This was a lie. This wasn’t how it—

  “Sure.” Janie tossed her magazine to the side. “Why not? If you haven’t even been practicing on your pillow, you need to catch up.”

  Sarah’s heart beat so wildly that she was sure Janie would hear it. Instead Janie moved closer. “So you start like this.”

  Janie tilted her head to the right, and Sarah did the same, mesmerized by the site of h
er pink lips, so close to hers.

  “Then you open just a little,” she whispered, and Sarah tasted the sweetness of her breath.

  A shiver passed through Sarah’s body when Janie’s lips touched hers. She gripped her bedspread to keep her hands from—

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” her mother shrieked.

  The two girls sprang apart, Janie wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Sarah didn’t wipe hers—she wanted to taste that kiss forever.

  “We were just practicing.” Janie’s cheeks turned bright pink.

  “Not in my house you aren’t.” She tossed Janie’s purse at her.

  Janie ducked out of the room, mumbling an apology.

  Her mother slammed the door behind Janie. “I told you that girl was trouble.”

  “She’s not,” Sarah pleaded. “She’s my friend.”

  “Are you saying this was your idea?” Her face darkened, and Sarah shrank back.

  “N-no,” she stammered. “She just wanted to practice—for Troy.”

  “That’s what she told you. You can’t trust a girl like that. Next she’ll be finding an excuse for the two of you to be undressing together.”

  “She wouldn’t—”

  “She won’t,” her mother said firmly. “You won’t be seeing her anymore. If I ever catch you doing anything like that ever again...”

  The rest of the scene played out the way Sarah remembered it—with her mother threatening to disown her if she ever turned gay—but that wasn’t the part that mattered.

  It wasn’t just that it had been Sarah’s idea to kiss Janie, it was why she’d wanted to. The feelings of longing came flooding back, and Sarah bowed her head.

  “I had a crush on Janie,” she whispered.

  She said the words, and as much as she wanted to swallow them back up, she couldn’t. They’d been spoken, and they were true. Hot tears sprang from her eyes, making tracks down her cheeks and spilling onto the floor.

  “You see it now.” Her mother reappeared from the shadows. “How sick, how twisted—?”

  Sarah tried to speak, but the words came out in a sob.

  “What did you say to me, girl?” She grabbed Sarah’s chin and yanked it up.

  Sarah looked into the flaming eyes of a woman she’d turned into something more than just a mother. In Sarah’s life she was the final authority on everything—a god.

  Sarah repeated herself, this time finding her voice.

  “I said shut...up.” She pushed her mother’s hand away. Her mother sputtered, but before she could speak, Sarah continued. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never known what you’re talking about!”

  She found her footing and rose, her mother seeming to shrink.

  “All your talk about fearing God. Do you even know God? Does anyone?” It wasn’t Sarah’s imagination—her mother was getting smaller. Smaller and less opaque.

  Sarah took a step forward and then another, now towering over her near-translucent mother. “Who are you to tell me who I can love? It’s not like I can help it anyway. I love who I love.” One more step, her hand clutching her own heart. “I love who I love!”

  Like a wisp of smoke, her mother disappeared, leaving Sarah alone with the truth she’d been fighting her entire life.

  As Eden got closer to the house, she turned off her flashlight, not wanting to be spotted by a sister. Once her eyes had adjusted, she peered around but saw and heard nothing.

  Where were the sisters? Shouldn’t they be chanting or something?

  Eden crept closer, moving slowly in the darkness. She tripped and went sprawling, her phone flying from her hand.

  Something soft broke her fall. Something soft and warm.

  Eden looked down. Beneath her, motionless, lay Alex—her sightless eyes staring heavenward.

  Jules was five again—she sat quietly in the living room, playing with a worn-out doll.

  Her mother hurried in, wearing red lipstick and high heels.

  “Carl will be here any minute.” She picked up a stuffed animal and shoved it behind their sofa. She reached for Jules’s arm.

  “I’ll be good.” Jules pulled away. “You don’t have to—”

  “Do not mess this up for me.” Her mother’s grip was painfully tight. “He’s the first decent guy I’ve met in years—not like your deadbeat father.”

  Jules tried to wriggle free, but her mother pulled her toward the basement.

  “I won’t mess it up. I promise, Mommy,” she wailed, panic gripping her belly.

  “Listen to me, Julie.” Her mother knelt down and gripped her by the shoulders. But then her voice softened, and so did her gaze. “I have to make him love me first. That’s the way it works—you have to earn your place in someone’s heart. And once I do, then it’s your turn. But until then...” She dragged Eden over to the basement door. “Quiet as a mouse.”

  She pushed Jules onto the steps and slammed the door. Jules heard the click of the latch, and she whimpered.

  “Don’t cry,” her mother said through the door. “Or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  Jules shrank back and stayed quiet, clutching her doll to her chest.

  She woke on her knees, tears streaming down her face.

  Carl had never learned to love Jules—had never even met her. A few weeks before her sixth birthday, her mother had dropped her off at a friend’s house and never come back.

  “I tried,” she said between sobs. “I tried to make them love me. I tried to make you love me.”

  The wound that Jules had spent her life trying to keep closed broke open. Grief washed over her like a wave, pulling her under.

  “But that was your mistake,” a voice said.

  Jules looked up to see a woman, surrounded by light. She knelt down, and even with their faces only inches apart, Jules couldn’t make out her features. She wasn’t just surrounded by light; she was made of it.

  “You have never had to earn your place,” the woman said. “You have always belonged—to me.”

  She reached out and touched Jules’s cheek. Colors exploded in Jules’s mind, and she was awash in warmth and ecstasy. She’d felt a glimpse of this during the pledge ritual, but it was the difference between drinking a bottle of water and bathing in a mountain spring.

  Jules was a daughter but not just to the mother who had birthed her. She belonged to this woman—this goddess, this mother of all that is.

  “I claim you,” her true mother said. “You have always been mine.”

  She held out her arms, and Jules curled into her lap, finally where she belonged.

  Eden screamed and scrambled to her feet.

  “Illumino!”

  The light was pitiful but lit the dark enough to see three more sisters—their robes stained with blood. She shook them—slapped their faces—but all remained motionless.

  Eden looked around wildly. Whoever had done this could still be close by.

  Her eyes locked on the house—on a bedroom upstairs.

  Oh no.

  Sarah cried until she had no more tears, until the last traces of illusion were gone. Her mother didn’t have all the answers, and Sarah was...gay.

  The revelation had split Sarah in two. There was who she’d always thought she was, and who she actually was—the tension between them almost too great to bear.

  It was the thought of Eden—still in danger—that made Sarah drag herself to her feet. For better or worse she’d passed, and she needed to leave so she could warn Eden that something was coming.

  But when Sarah looked up, she gasped, all thoughts of Eden gone.

  Before her stood an angel, his wings outstretched and snowy white. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  Sarah’s heart swelled. God still loves me.

  He opened his arms, and she went to him—aching to be awash in his radiant light.

  Terror seized Eden’s heart.

  What is that thing?

  He was too tall, too pa
le, too ghastly to be human.

  The knot of memory vibrated in her skull and screamed at her to run.

  But she couldn’t. Because when he stretched out his arms, Sarah stepped into view.

  She gazed at him with adoring eyes, her movements slow and trance-like.

  The monster smiled, and it chilled Eden to the bone.

  Eden raced around to the front of the house and took the steps two at a time. She tried the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. She threw herself into it, her shoulder screaming in protest. When that didn’t work, she ran to one of the boarded up windows and clawed at the plywood, splinters digging into her skin.

  She had to get inside—that thing could be killing Sarah.

  She had to find a way in!

  And then, she did.

  Eden closed her eyes and spoke the words that would bring her powers back.

  “Gods of air, gods of sea, I beg you, return my memory.”

  The knot in the back of her mind exploded, and it wasn’t just magic that came back but the memory of the boogeyman. He was real. And he was back.

  "Apertus!” Eden screamed, and the door swung open.

  She ran inside, skidding to a halt when she found Paige.

  “Paige, I need your help, something—”

  But Paige didn’t move—just stared into the distance, a rapturous look on her face.

  Eden shook her, snapped her fingers in her face, but her expression stayed the same. Whatever the boogeyman was doing to Sarah, he’d already done it to Paige.

  Eden raced toward the stairs.

  She got three steps, and then her eyes rolled back in her head, and the darkness closed in.

  When she woke, Eden found herself in bed but not at Coventry House. It was her room back home, and it looked exactly as it had when she was six years old.

  She tried to bolt from the room, but her limbs wouldn’t obey the command. She was being pulled deeper into the memory, adult Eden slipping away.

  A soft whistle filled her ears.

  Before she knew it, she was throwing back the covers and tiptoeing toward the source of the sound.