by Julie Reece
Or not controlling it.
“Shite!” Cole’s gone again, popping up a few feet away. His back is hunched, head hanging below his shoulders with his palms pressed flat on the floor.
The chandelier swings so hard, it hits the ceiling. Crystal shatters to swirling white dust. Snow in a snow globe blizzard. As the chain snaps, my arms rise just in time to shield my face. What’s left of a hundred-year-old light fixture cracks the top of my dining table and rolls to the floor.
Cole has digressed to the fetal position, his lips moving continuously. By degrees, the lights stop flashing, and the wind slows until the room’s curtains hang beside blown-out windows in limp tatters. One has caught fire.
Abandoning the girls, Dane bolts across the room, tears the sheer from the rod, and stamps the fire out.
Cole rolls on his back with a groan. “Am I dead?”
“No. Are you all right? Did you break anything?” Raven asks.
“Everything, I’ll wager.”
“I meant bones,” she says, breaking from Maggie’s hold. That’s when I notice the red welts running the length of her cheek.
A sudden shriek trips and crashes down each vertebra in my back like an old man falling down the stairs. Jenny’s pointing to the far wall where the words “Wednesday’s Child” are scrawled near a portrait of Mathias Maddox. Crimson drips down the cream plaster forming a garish puddle on the floor, but whether paint or blood, I can’t say.
“Saints preserve us,” Jenny breathes.
“Wednesday’s child is full of woe,” Jamis says, quoting a children’s verse I’ve heard before. Fear and warning reflect in his rheumy eyes. “The message is meant for you, master. Born on a Wednesday, you were. Like every male Maddox before you. The magician sends a taunt.”
I swear the room is colder, now. My bones crust over with frost. “What do you mean?”
“The words appeared before, the last a challenge to your grandfather.”
I’ve read the ledgers mentioning a magician, but that was over a hundred years ago. “Are you sure?”
Jamis lifts his chin when annoyed, which is pretty often. The old man has been with us forever, but his comment goes way beyond the general knowledge I assumed he had of the curse. I’m ashamed I never bothered to learn anything about him personally, Jenny either for that matter.
“Of course you are, Jamis. Forgive me.”
A curt nod suggests my apology is as obvious as it is overdue. It’s true. No one’s going to nominate me for boss of the year.
“Let’s everyone calm down and think.” Raven’s walk is a bit uneven. She rights an overturned chair and sits unceremoniously, keeping her knees pinned together like a small child. Her gaze flits to the words still bleeding on the wall. “From the beginning, can someone tell us what happened?”
Maggie pipes up. “We … we’d just started looking though some books. Dane and I here,” she points to two chairs as she and Dane sit, “Cole over there.”
Jamis helps a shaken Jenny slip quietly out the door, and for now, I let them go.
Cole resumes his seat at the far head of the table. His hair juts out in static, black spikes reminding me of a towel just removed from the dryer. I take my regular place at the other end. Our eyes meet and hold a tense moment before he glances away.
“I’m sorry. I never meant … ” Cole jerks his thumb indicating the sum total of my newly destroyed dining hall. “Maddox, what you said during the storm. I thought you were crazy, but I would have tried anything to make it stop. It took a while, but once I focused … I found, no I felt my connection to the wind. Everything stopped when I told it to! How’s that even possible?”
“How is any of it possible?” Dane asks.
“Hang on.” Cole peers under the table, searches the floor around his chair. “Everything started when I read, uh … Here!” His fingers grasp a crumpled, brown leather diary from amongst the debris. “All right, just let me find it again.” He straightens, thumbing through the yellowed pages until finding the passage he wants.
Maggie snaps the hair from her face. “If you’re going to read that, stop short of another X-Men Apocalypse episode, okay?”
“Right.” His voice clears.
Spring, 1865
Today, Gordon confided, while dressing me for dinner, that he overheard the cook and delivery man discussing the death of Mrs. Lawrence. Her bruises apparently so plentiful, she was rarely seen in public this season. Having missed her presence at both the Sales Hollow Christmas Ball and the Johnson’s cotillion, I believe it must be true. My poor, sweet Emma …
“He blathers on about his long lost love, yadda, yadda, yadda … ” Cole runs a finger down the crinkled page. “Here’s where he plots his revenge against her husband Jonathan Lawrence, the man who killed her.” Cole’s head pops up. “I knew him by the way, old man Lawrence. Met him in The Void.”
My eyebrows hike.
“Real wanker, that one.” Cole returns to the journal.
I traveled to The Grey Horse Saloon again two weeks prior to this entry and met with one Professor Pan, the magician. No price is too high. He will give me the means to avenge her death, though the path gives me pause. It is a clever plan, to send Jonathan through the rabbit hole where no one may follow. Were I to make a bargain with this devil, Pan, I would be trading one evil for another, even risk my soul. Yet your blood calls to me from the ground, dearest Emma, and I cannot bear the sound. Take heart, beloved. Jonathan is as vain as a peacock. The whole of Colleton County knows he cares more for his white gelding than you, my darling. Let them rot together then.
I will stand in the graveyard of Pan’s ancestors and speak the words he gave to me. Those with power enough to unlock the door between worlds. To bring justice. To be together again.
Cole lifts his head again. “Mathias is talking about The Void here. He made a deal with Pan for some magical verbiage and poof, the door to the labyrinth was opened.”
“What sort of deal?” Dane asks.
“Doesn’t say how much he paid, just goes on about a ‘rabbit hole’ and the means to avenge Emma’s death being the catalyst for the whole mess. And here’s the bit about the pictures …
One simple photograph with the enchanted camera traps him for an eternity. A gilded frame will be his cell, the walls of my house, his jail. He will spend his prison sentence ruing the day he hurt you and crossed the man who truly loved you. The one whose heart you hold for all time.
Mathias Maddox,
“The more I read, the more agitated I got. My head hurt. The pressure was crushing, and just when I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore, everything blew apart.” Cole peers at the surrounding chaos. “And I’m no closer to helping Rose.” His gaze finds me, eyes hard and accusing. “Your people did this. Punishing criminals is one thing, but she’s innocent.”
His anger sparks mine. “How do you know?” Cole might be right about her. He’s definitely right about my family, but loyalty makes me defend them anyway. The last thing I need is a lecture on morality from the guy that made my life at school a living hell.
Cole stands. His face wads up, muscles twitching like an angry squirrel. Not the harmless type old people feed in the park. He’s the annoying, bushy-tailed rats we southern boys like to shoot out of trees. Gut them, peel their skin … cut off their heads. Where’s my rifle?
“You guys, quit it,” Maggie says. “We’ve got enough problems without ya’ll fighting, too.”
When Cole and Raven share a look, jealousy threatens my plan to let her go. If only I didn’t want to squeeze his tiny British brain until it popped.
“He’s right,” Rae says. “About the headaches, I mean. I thought it was sinus, or summer allergies to pollen. But after this morning’s scare with the plants, my head was hurting.”
Cole perks up. “Hang on. What plants?”
While Rae retells her story, my mind drifts. Cole’s mention of a mirror mixes with the dream I h
ad in the hotel.
“Look, damn you! There’s magic. Inside the glass. Magic is elemental. It’s in the earth, the water, even in the air we breathe. Understand?” My father’s words hammer through my head, battering open the memories I’d shut out for so long. Magic is elemental … elemental, elemental …
A prickle of awareness creeps up my neck. If trees are perhaps a symbol for earth, Cole’s uncontrollable shifts could be wind. The fires … What if elemental components are somehow erupting through the three of us? However farfetched, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. The idea’s worth exploring, anyway. The strange occurrences are an outpouring of elements, each of us representing a different aspect.
My hands fist and release with pent up energy. “I might know what’s happening.” The room goes quiet. “I’ll have Jenny box these books to bring with us. Get packed everybody. It’ll be tight, but we’ll go in my Jeep.”
“Road trip,” Dane says.
I catch his eye. “Can you get away from work for a few days?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Why? Where are we going?” Raven asks.
“I’ll explain on the way.” Or try my damnedest.
My mind’s made up. Much as it kills me, I might have found a way to provide for her future and defeat The Void at once. All we need is a miracle. Or ten.
Dane answers to no one, but the girls need an alibi. “Clear a camping trip with Maggie’s folks. Tell them I’ve rented a cabin or something somewhere in North Carolina. We’re going to my lake house—in Grey Horse.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cole
To say I’m unhappy stuck in the back seat of Gideon’s Jeep with Dane and Maggie, aka the “love-fest” twins is an understatement. Raven rides shotgun. At least I have an unobstructed view of her, and my eyes stay riveted to avoid watching the mauling of Maggie by Mr. “Happy-hands” Dane.
The injustice.
The smell of petrol mixed with Maggie’s indulgent use of perfume turns my stomach. I’m carsick, heartsick, stressed-out, and hatching the mother of all headaches. Hopefully, I won’t jettison outside the vehicle to become its unwilling hood ornament.
My legs are too long for the space behind the seat. I shift and squirm, but we’re lemmings back here. I’d rather be up front with Raven. The wish gels into more than vague thought, and before I know what’s happening, I’m vibrating like a guitar string. The pressure in my head expands. Shite. Here we go …
I blink to clear my vision of the lovely throat I’m suddenly staring at. Nope, still there. Somehow, I’ve transported myself into the front passenger seat facing the dashboard with the incredible Raven Weathersby situated directly on my lap.
Fist bump. High five. Yes!
“Cole!” Raven punches me in the shoulder, and though it doesn’t hurt, I believe she put some force behind the blow. She wriggles in my lap, which isn’t helping my focus at all.
I can’t help my laugh, half glee, half shock.
“What the hell, Wynter?” Gideon growls. My body jerks as his fingers clamp my shoulder.
I’m unsuccessful at shrugging him off. “How should I know?” Which is true. “It’s not like I asked to be up here.” Which is definitely not true.
He releases me to change gears, and we pass the slow moving Toyota stalling our progress.
“How did you get up here?” Raven’s voice has a hypnotic, natural rasp. The scent of her cinnamon gum fills the air between us, drawing me in, but if I kiss her, Maddox will toss me out of the window arse over elbow. I might do it anyway.
I’m at a loss as to where to put my hands. They end up clutching the seat at my sides, but I can’t avoid the pair of bright gray eyes inches away. “I get carsick riding in the back. When I thought about sitting up front, I started—I don’t know—buzzing, and poof, here I am.”
My heart tips over when she laughs. “Poof?”
“Yeah … ” I grin. “Poof.”
“That’s enough, Wynter,” Gideon warns. “Off you go.”
I’m in no hurry to respond. Especially since the prat’s ordering and not asking.
Raven angles toward him. “I’ll ride in the back, he can stay.”
“Not happening,” he says, then under his breath, “Not yet.”
“You’re cranky, Maddox, even for you.” I shrug at his trademark scowl. “Fine, I’m going.”
Easing Raven aside, I crawl over the seat. The job’s a challenge, trying to keep from jabbing Raven with my knee or kicking the gearshift with my combat boots.
Relegated to the backseat again, I try for conversation. “Oi, Maddox. Now might be a good time to clue us in on your theories.”
Gideon’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror before glancing at the lip-locked pair beside me. A smirk emerges.
“You’re a right foul git, you know that?”
“I know.”
“What’s a git?” Raven asks.
“Anything related to Maddox.”
“Moving on,” Gideon says. “Here’s the deal from my perspective. Either our collective sanity’s gone to hell, or we’re creating our own problems this time.”
Dane and Maggie separate and face front. Thank you, God.
“In the library, when Cole mentioned the mirrors and Pan, I remembered something from when I was a kid. We have a country house in Grey Horse. I hadn’t thought about it in years since I’ve only been there twice in my life. Citing historical significance to the family, my grandfather bought the property and built a house on the exact site that used to be a saloon. That’s about all I knew.”
“The same Grey Horse Saloon mentioned in the journal entry?” I ask.
He finds me again in his mirror and nods. “The very same.”
“Well, that’s no coincidence, is it?” Maggie asks.
“Unfortunately, no,” Gideon admits. “Like I said, we didn’t spend much time there. I’d forgotten about the afternoon I spent with my father in his office until a few days ago. Remember when I told you that my father said magic never dies? If that’s true, then when one source of power is cut off, the properties of magic must transfer somewhere else.”
I snort. He’s trying to make his explanation sound important and scientific, but I doubt he knows what the hell he’s saying.
Raven tucks a lock of hair behind one ear and leans forward. I swallow the barb on my tongue meant for Maddox, because if his words give her hope, who am I to rob her of them?
Gideon downshifts behind a slow moving semi. “That got me thinking. What if they did go somewhere? The night the curse was broken, three people in that cellar survived. Me, Raven, and you, Wynter. Maybe we absorbed the magic. It makes sense with what’s been going on, only I didn’t see it until now.
“My father said magic is born from the elements, earth, wind, water—”
“And fire,” Rae finishes. “The fires, last week … and again today. Gideon, was that you?”
“I think so. What you and Wynter described with headaches and odd dreams, the same physical symptoms have bothered me, too, lately.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Raven’s voice is so low I can hardly hear her over the noisy engine.
He runs a finger down her cheek. The gesture is tender and guts me to watch. “I didn’t want you to worry, and I could be wrong.”
“What if you’re not? Anyway, that’s not really the point … ” He pulls sharply away, and she looks like she might cry. “I wish you’d told me.”
“There was nothing to tell,” he snaps. “I’m theorizing, but my best guess is the night the curse was broken, the magical elements re-homed themselves in us.”
I hate eating my own words. It sucks, but I have to admit I agree with him. The evidence is overwhelming.
“Whoa,” Maggie says. “You guys are, like, crime fighting, superheroes, now. You can have your own secret hideout and catch bad guys, like on Arrow.”
“Stop it, Mags, you
’ve seen what’s been happening.” Raven’s eyes shine. “We don’t control the elements. Right now, they control us, and there’s no one to explain how it works. If Gideon’s right, then we could hurt somebody or ourselves.”
“No, we can figure this out.” Gideon says, shifting again. “We’ll have to test my theory, of course, but personally, I hope I’m right. I wouldn’t mind having a little lightning in my veins.” His eyes brighten at the prospect. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, but Raven’s not smiling.
She glances out the window. “Then you’re just trading a camera for fire.”
I’m not sure anyone else heard until Maggie’s cheeks puff up. “Again? This is just so typical of you, Rae.”
“What is?”
“You’re always … freaking Princess Gloom and Doom, aren’t you? Last year, when you found out you had to move in with the big, bad Maddox heir, you and Dane were all like, ahhh! And I was like whoosah, children, he’s not that scary.” She waves a hand. “No offense, dude.”
Gideon grins. “None taken. I am that scary.”
I roll my eyes.
“If you recall, that situation turned out fine, and I’m predicting this will, too. Promise.” She crosses her chest. “I have a feeling.”
Her words are full of confidence, but I wouldn’t take those odds. Raven’s prediction we’ll end up offing ourselves is more believable. Though the image of Gideon’s perfect hair catching fire is brilliant.
“Mags, you can’t promise something like that,” Dane cautions. “What if they accidently blow—Oof.”
Maggie shoves him. “Don’t be a downer, dude.” The girl is C-4 packed into a tiny five-foot frame. “You’ll make them feel bad. Try to stay positive, please.” Her little arms fold under a disproportionately large chest rendering her push-up bra unnecessary.
“Hang on,” I say, trying to wipe Maggie’s cleavage from my mind. “Let me get this straight. Elemental magic is divided into four: wind, earth, water, and fire. So I’m what, wind?”