I have to tell him, Tracy thought. As she paced on the sidewalk to cool down after the hard run, she wondered how to start, or better, where and when to start. How much did Derek deserve to know? They had shared few, if any, personal details since first bonding over an ancient relic at an auction. Since then, she and Derek had enjoyed each other’s company at museums and blended into each other’s social circles seamlessly, but it all seemed superficial now.
Jeffery’s death weighed heavily on Tracy and persuaded her to finally open up. No one outside her family knew the truth, and she realized if she ever died tragically as Jeffery had, no one outside her family would ever know why.
How does a woman tell her boyfriend she's a powerful witch? she wondered. Tracy was born with a knack for elemental magic. She had come from a long line of witches, and despite craving normalcy as a young adult, Tracy had never given up the magic. In a strange contradiction, she cherished her gifted lineage.
That’s it, Tracy admitted. She was struggling because, for the first time, she understood normal was something she would never have unless she eliminated magic from her life. That would never happen, not for a boyfriend, not for a job, and not even for money or power.
The magical talents were a secret Tracy carefully maintained, but she still tapped into the power often enough to grow in ability. Over the last few years she used her powers to help when she could. Living in New York City, Tracy had come across her share of demons and dealt with them in her own way. But now she realized how insignificant her actions were compared to the war Uncle Cade and The Brotherhood battled on a regular basis. This realization was affecting her family perspective.
When family needed her, Tracy would always answer the call. She would never regret leaving with Ashley and Nate when they knocked on her door in the middle of the night. She also didn’t resent Uncle Cade or her parents for trying to protect her. Tracy understood her parent’s actions were the only way they knew how to protect her and her siblings, as any good parent would. But she still hated being treated like a child.
Tracy realized she was partly to blame for her family’s behavior. She’d stepped aside easily, deferring to their experience and judgment. Tracy wasn't stupid or suicidal, so she complied and followed along with all their instructions.
When Rederrick and Cynda insisted Tracy stay with Jenny and her siblings while they went to fight the demon lord, Niall, it infuriated her to be left behind, but she didn’t argue. However, when they came back scarred, battered, desperate, and grieving, something foreign in her stirred. The entire event had been a wake-up call. She felt a mix of guilt, anger, and shock when she realized how close she’d come to losing her parents. Today, those emotions remained, brewing inside her like one of her mother’s homemade tonics.
Even though The Faction’s leader was gone, Tracy recognized that there would never be a shortage of demons in the world. Even more tragic was there would always be bad human beings in the world too. Her own abilities had never been called on as meaningfully as her mother’s powers during the battle that took Collett and Jeffery. She never encountered demons as strong as her loved ones were required to fight. And this forced Tracy to look in the mirror of magic and see her reflection staring back.
Tracy wanted to do more, to be more. In all honesty, she wanted to be a part of what her parents did. She wanted to make a real difference, but didn’t know how to begin.
Tracy hesitated because she understood what getting involved would require. When they met briefly, the sorcerer, Jeffery, reminded Tracy that magic and power always come with a price. She wondered how high that price would be for her.
Magic, or having the gift of it, came with many complications. It was too much to deal with and was becoming more than Tracy could handle alone. If she wanted to find happiness, Tracy understood she needed to make some changes.
Bending to stretch her tight muscles, she contemplated another reason to divulge her secret to Derek. Collett’s vision of Tracy having three daughters reminded her that any children she bore would have power too. That was something you needed to disclose before any vows were uttered. It wasn’t like Samantha from Bewitched. Having a child with her heritage could be a genuine challenge.
Her own sister would wake screaming when a nearby animal got hit by a car, or when cats in the neighborhood fought. As an empath, her sister had no control over her power until she was much older. And how many times had Tracy’s own temper tantrums caused elemental havoc in the house? She could recall three separate instances when she had shattered her bedroom windows, and once when she started a fire in the living room.
“Crap,” she grumbled and tilted her head back to search the darkening skyline. “I have to tell him,” she resolved out loud.
Tracy walked up the front steps with determination, keyed in her access code, and went inside to call him. On the elevator, she reached down to unpin the key from her waist as the elevator doors opened. Tracy stepped out but came up short when she saw Derek standing by her door.
“Derek?”
“You didn’t answer when I buzzed so I figured you must be running. Your neighbor let me in.” He gestured to her door. “Can I come in?”
“Derek.”
“Look, I know it’s late, but, well…” He lifted his arms at a loss for words.
“Okay, you’re right. We need to talk,” Tracy said with confidence she didn’t feel.
Derek stepped aside and she with a nervous buzz in her stomach she unlocked the door. There was a definite awkwardness between them, and Tracy couldn’t help but wonder when it began.
Flicking on the lights, Tracy moved to hang her keys on the hook. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll shower and then we can talk,” she explained over her shoulder.
“This isn’t working,” he blurted out.
She stopped where she was but didn’t turn to face him; nerves ran through her.
“It’s not working,” Derek repeated in a firm tone.
Tracy closed her eyes and still refused to turn to see him.
“I can’t keep pretending we’re a couple. I don’t want to go on with this facade. It isn’t real. I’m not sure it ever was. Maybe it could have been before you left, but whatever happened while you were gone…you’re different.”
Ready to explain, she turned, “Derek, I—”
He shook his head. “Did you know a detective called me last week?”
Her eyes went steely. “What?”
“Detective Hall from Colorado called me last week. He asked me various questions. ‘Do you know the drug lord that went after your girlfriend and her family? Did you ever meet the known felon, Jeffery Garrison?’ He even asked if you were ever romantically involved with a man named Cade Werren or Jarrett Hunter?”
“What did you say?” She struggled to keep her tone controlled. Fury had her hands shaking. She clenched her fists at her sides.
“Good grief, Tracy, what could I tell him? I didn’t even know your father was the Rederrick Williams until that detective told me! Of course I don’t know who the other two guys are. At this point, I’m convinced that I don’t know a single thing about you.”
“Look—”
“No,” he said with a calming breath. “You know what I’ve realized?” He rushed on before she could reply. “I realized you know no more about me than I do about you. We never talked about ourselves, did we? I don’t even know your birthday.”
“August 21st.”
His defeated expression spoke volumes. It told her the confessions she was prepared to finally share were irrelevant now.
“I found out you’re the daughter of a prominent attorney who has high government connections, and you are under investigation by the police on suspicions of murder and drug related activity. Worse, I found all this out from a stranger. I mean, what am I supposed to think?”
“What bothers you more, the fact that my dad’s a lawyer or that I didn’t tell you?”
“Are you serious? Tracy, you’r
e in trouble with the law! Your whole family is for that matter,” he said, throwing his arms up wildly. “You didn’t even come to me and ask for help. You disappeared for weeks with no explanation. When you took off in a hurry, I thought a health issue for your parents or some minor family drama, but I looked into it after that detective called. Your family was attacked by drug dealers? PEOPLE DIED! And you said nothing. You didn’t trust me,” he accused.
“Derek, I…” she tried again, but the words stuck in her throat. She could not bring herself to tell him she was a witch.
He shook his head. “Tracy, I can’t do this.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she willed them back. “I know,” she finally admitted as much to herself as to him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Me too,” she replied.
He nodded, and walked to the door.
“Derek?”
He stopped with a hand on the knob.
“When is your birthday?” she whispered.
“June 19th.”
She nodded, even though he never looked back to see the gesture. Instead, he quietly opened the latch and walked out the door and out of her life. After staring at the empty doorway for a moment, Tracy lifted her hand and used her power to gently shut the door.
The tears still threatened, so she clenched her jaw, tightened her fists, and let go of a burst of energy instead. She heard the tinkling of glass shards as a plate in the sink shattered in response, and the balcony window cracked. After a deep breath, Tracy acknowledged that, even as an adult, her temper could still cause havoc. Overwhelmed by everything, Tracy called the one person she knew would understand, she called her mother.
Chapter 3
The next day, Cynda Williamson sat reading in the soft, mauve chair next to Jenny’s bed in the long-term care facility, where her truest friend lay unconscious. Monitors hummed and offered an occasional beep. Jenny’s coma had been unbroken for over three months.
Tucking her fiery-red hair behind her ear, Cynda peeked over the book on ancient legends to look upon the woman she loved as dearly as her own mother. Cynda was hoping, not for the first time, that she might see movement, any movement. It was devastating to view this kind, loving woman in such a diminished state.
Jenny's current condition was caused by a demon that attacked her during a raid on Cynda and Rederrick’s home. That cold December night, the demons had come for Collett, but the depraved creatures stumbled upon Jenny alone in the kitchen first. One of the half-demons took particular enjoyment in hurting the older woman until Collett, in a projected state, stopped him.
Jenny nearly died that night. After Collett halted the attack, she interceded once more and miraculously saved Jenny from heart failure when her injuries were too much to bare. Although, it wasn’t much of a life. Jenny remained unresponsive since that tragic night. Despite calling in every specialist available and spending extensive amounts of money, they were no closer to a solution than they’d started with. Despite breathing on her own, Jenny would not wake.
Worry and grief were Cynda’s constant companions. The last few months felt like a lifetime, and she struggled to overcome her melancholy.
She worried for Jenny as well as her three adult children in their varied locations. Right now, Cynda was especially concerned for her eldest daughter, Tracy, was dealing with a breakup on top of everything else.
Ashley is in good hands at least, Cynda thought. With Ashley and Nate engaged, Cynda was confident Ashley would be safe and happy. The pair were an excellent match and seeing them together helped lift Cynda’s mood.
James, her youngest child, was nearby at Fort Carson, but his duties kept him too busy to visit her as often as she would like.
Not only did she worry over her children and Jenny, Cynda’s heartbreak at the loss of two special people was still fresh. Though she had known both of them only briefly, Cynda had, as was her nature, opened her heart and come to love and admire Collett and Jeffery. She considered Collett a part of their little family even before Cade married her.
Sorrow poured over Cynda as she thought about Jeffery. During their confrontation with Niall, Cynda had faced her own death. Only it hadn’t come. Jeffery, a young, ambitious sorcerer and former Faction follower turned good, had died in her place.
Jeffery had been an enigma to most, but she viewed him like Peter Pan—a lost boy in search of a place to belong. She even held a soft spot for his purple and green streaked hair and strange sense of style that had suited him.
Jeffery was gone now. They were both gone, and Jenny’s chance of recovery was bleak. Cynda was galled by the imbalance of three lives for one. The ultimate cost to bring one man to justice for his misdeeds against humanity had been too much.
Her thoughts shifted to Cade and Jarrett. She sighed and laid her book on the nearby table. She was in no mood to focus on the complex text. Standing, she approached the bed and adjusted Jenny’s pillow.
“How is she?”
Turning, Cynda met her husband’s steel-gray eyes and recognized the weariness that mirrored her own. Rederrick’s 56th birthday had passed last month, and Cynda lamented they never celebrated because of all that happened.
Rederrick was a handsome man, tall and fit. His hair was salt and pepper with more gray than the shiny black of his youth. She was certain recent events had added more of those silver streaks though the color didn’t matter to her. The sight of him still sent her heart fluttering and charmed her even after all these years.
Cynda smiled as he strolled into the room and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “She seems better today,” Cynda replied.
Rederrick smiled at her with sympathy in his expression. They both knew there had been no substantial change, but each day they insisted she was doing better.
Moving to the small table on the other side of the bed, Cynda rearranged the flowers left by well-wishers. “Have you heard from them?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Maybe I should call him?”
“No, he’s not ready. He may not be for a long time yet. He has Jarrett with him, and I’m sure they’ll be fine. It’s not the first time Cade's been out of touch.”
Cynda looked back to Rederrick and, despite his assurances, she could see he worried too. She understood the lack of communication from Cade bothered him. Cade left for varying periods of time, but this time was different–everything was different.
Reaching down, Rederrick picked up the book she'd been reading. Upon seeing the title, he looked back to Cynda and quirked a brow. “Light reading?”
She shrugged. “A little research.”
“It’s over, Love. He’s gone.”
“And so is she!” Cynda proclaimed. “I need to know more. We’re still clueless as to how and why she disappeared.”
“She?”
“Collett. I need to find out who she was.”
Rederrick was silent and pensive for a moment as if puzzling something out.
“He was so powerful, and she was so… There’s too much we don’t understand.”
“You think this will tell you?” He lifted the old book bound in leather with fragile, yellowed pages, with the title embossed into the soft cover.
“No… Yes… I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “There’s something here,” she said and pressed a fist to her chest as her sea-green eyes glistened with emotion. “There's a piece of me that has to know. Collett was different, like no one we've ever helped before. What if it happens again? What if more men like this Bellig exist?”
Rederrick set the book down and crossed over to her. Folding her small frame into his arms, he kissed the top of Cynda’s head.
“She died to save us, and I don’t understand why, but I need to know.”
“Okay, I get it,” he soothed, “but it won’t bring Jeffery back. You may not find what you’re looking for. We may never learn about her.”
“I have to try. She deserves some effort from us. Collett deserves to be
known for who she was, even if we’re the only ones to understand,” Cynda insisted.
Rederrick couldn’t discount her determination to have answers, but Cynda’s fixation on finding out about the woman they knew as Collett troubled him. Even her name was something they never confirmed. Squeezing her tight, he conceded, “All right, but don’t let it take you over. We have to start moving on. You should be reading bridal magazines and helping Ashley plan a wedding. Mix some fun in there so I don’t worry so much.”
Reigning in her emotions, Cynda nodded against him and sniffed. “You’ve been to see Cody then?”
“Still struggling,” Rederrick answered. He pulled away and moved to the chair his wife occupied a moment before. “He’s healing well enough, at least physically. He’ll get the last pins out of his legs next week, but there’ll be a long road of physical therapy ahead. As far as the rest of it, well, I’m not sure. He blames himself, believes it’s his fault.”
“It’s not.”
“I know that, and you know that. Even Cade of all people knows that, but Cody won’t see it.” Rederrick rubbed his tired eyes, and Cynda remembered she was not the only one struggling with worry and regret. “It’ll take some time I suppose. In the meantime, the counselor and I will keep trying to get through. So will Selena. She’s been there a few times now. I’m glad she’s willing to help. She has a gentle touch.”
“It seems unfair that one being can ruin so many lives.” She picked up a brush and gently pulled it through Jenny’s soft, white hair. “The police?”
Cynda’s question addressed a valid concern. When Collett and Jeffery died, there were legalities they had to deal with, such as police investigations and Jeffery’s death certificate. Since Collett had no living family or actual record of her life, they made no mention of her existence. Only those who attended the private funeral knew of the two coffins.
Fortunately, as a lawyer and the leader of The Brotherhood, Rederrick knew how to handle such situations. They had no choice but to concoct a story to explain what had happened.
The Truth of Victory: A Powers of Influence Novel Page 3