“Sorry, you two were being so melodramatic. I was waiting for one of you to scream, ‘Filthy mudblood’ in a horrible British accent,” she made sure that she said the words with her own obnoxious version of an English accent, drawing the attention of the surrounding tables.
Kai and Quinn smirked at the two girls. Even Rhys almost smiled.
The two turned on their heels and returned to a table across the cafeteria. Ember asked the group, “So my dear ‘Uncle Alex’ family business with students? That’s sort of weird, right?”
Quinn shrugged. “Alex took over as head of the Red Oak coven when Allister became head of the witches’ council. Since most of the coven is underage he’s mostly just a glorified babysitter.” He glanced over at the table where Stella and Astrid sat huddled together with six others whispering and pointing in her direction emphatically. That wasn’t good. “When Alex is on campus, he has to treat all of us students equally. Once he sets foot off campus, he’s just another witch that hates everybody but other witches.”
Ember sighed. “My life was easier when I was putting makeup on dead people.” She looked up to five blank stares. “What? Don’t judge me. This place is exhausting.”
20
EMBER
Ember knew she was dreaming. She knew because she was a child, her little hands clenched in front of her, her tiny toes buried in the sand of the beach where she stood. She couldn’t be older than five. Overhead the sky was a mass of thick black clouds backlit by the moon hidden underneath. Lightening snaked across the sky and thunder boomed loud enough to rumble the ground beneath her. The sea was blood red, the waves in the distance immense and rolling towards her. Her heart hammered in her chest, the wind whipping her hair into her face, plastering her nightgown to her body.
She held her hand up to see better, blinking against the sand blasting her skin. She knew what she had to do. She could feel it. She stumbled towards the water, she just needed to be closer. She needed to touch the water. Her fingertips tingled, she breathed heavily, trying to contain the power suddenly itching for release. It slithered under her skin, pulsing in her hands.
She knew what she needed to do. Just like the bird. She would do this just like the bird. “Mommy!” she screamed, her voice sucked into the void of the storm.
The sky opened up, the rain plastering her nightgown to her body and matting her hair to her face. She was filthy but she didn’t care. She had to fix this. She knew how to fix what she’d done.
She thrust her little hands into the air, feeling the power rip from her, fingertips burning like it took the flesh with it but she didn’t care. Not if it worked. It had to work. The power flowed through her, pulling in through the soles of her feet and pouring out through her fingertips.
As her power dwindled, so did the rain until all that remained was the warm wind that had started the whole thing. In the distance, a silhouette moved towards her.
“Mommy?” she called again. It was definitely a woman. She could see the dress, the hair, long and messy. As she grew closer, she could see the fabric of her mother’s favorite dress, tattered and askew. She jumped up and down, pumping her tiny arms over her head as the figure lurched closer. It was her, but something was wrong; she didn’t sway her hips like her mom, she didn’t swing her arms. Her motions were awkward and jerky, as if unseen strings pulled her limbs askew like a broken marionette.
“Mommy?” she whispered. She’d broken her mommy.
She yelped as thick arms yanked her backwards off her feet. She struggled to break free until she realized she was in her father’s arms. “Ember!” her father cradled her against him, eyes fixed on the figure in front of him, “Sera?” he whispered. “Oh God, Ember, what did you do? What did you do?”
“It’s like the bird. I fixed her like the bird. I want mommy,” she cried. “Let me go.”
“Ember, stop. That is not your mother.”
“Put me down,” she begged, wriggling in his arms, trying to escape. “I want mommy!”
Her father pulled them down the beach and into a tiny clapboard house, closing and locking the door. “Stay away from the windows, November Isabel. That’s an order.”
She collapsed on the floor in tears. “I hate you. I hate you!” she screamed.
Her father paid her no attention, snatching up the phone and smashing in somebody’s number, taking the phone into the next room. She heard the off kilter thumping footsteps as they made their way up the steps.
Step. Drag. Step. Drag.
She could make out the outline of her mother behind the thin white curtain; her hand slapping the glass and dragging down with methodical repetition. She looked to the hallway, where her father had disappeared, quietly crawling towards the door, mouth dry and heart pounding so hard she could barely hear anything else.
She pulled back the curtain. Eyes wide, she took in the creature on the other side of the glass and screamed.
It was her screams that woke her. They woke everybody. Heavy footsteps pounded towards her door and six spooked people stumbled into her room clearly expecting something more sinister than a nightmare.
“What is it? What’s happening?” Isa asked, eyes scanning every corner.
Ember was drenched in sweat, her sheets a crumpled mess on the floor. “Nightmare. God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake everybody. It was just...” she tried to get her shaking under control. “It was just so real.”
Isa sat on her bed while Ember tried to get her bearings. She tried to explain her dream but she was grasping at bits and pieces, fragments of fleeting memories. She remembered her mother and rolling seas. She remembered her fear. The storm. Her mother’s bloated and distorted face.
“Sounds very apocalyptic.” Neoma told her from the doorway, one delicate bare foot perched against her calf like a music box ballerina.
Wren nodded in agreement. “Sounds pretty terrifying,” he agreed, sympathetic.
“Dreams of the apocalypse are often caused by a feeling of having no control over your personal life. It can also be caused by adolescent hormones, the death of a parent or any significant loss. Given everything that’s happened to you it stands to reason you’d feel a bit out of control and your brain would drudge up some scary end of days chaos. The end of the world is the ultimate way to avoid your problems.” All eyes swung to Quinn.
“Did you memorize a dream dictionary?” Kai asked him seriously.
“Eidetic memory, dude.” He winked at Ember. “I’m not completely useless.”
Ember winced, that was the third time she’d heard Quinn say that. Ember blamed his dad and she was almost positive she wasn’t just projecting.
“You’re not even a little bit useless.” Isa told him fondly. “Hell, there are a lot of other people not pulling their weight around here.” She glared at her brother.
“What?” Rhys asked. “What am I not doing? Do I not babysit your children? What would you like me to do? What the hell does he contribute?”
He thrust his head in Wren’s direction. There was a flash of anger on the alpha’s face before she pulled herself back. “It doesn’t do well to question me, brother. But, since you are in such a helpful mood, I have a task for you.” She smiled and Rhys’ face fell, “You are going on a field trip and you’re going to take one of the…children.”
She looked around the room as if she hadn’t already made her decision. “I think you should take Kai.” She smiled beatifically.
Rhys clenched his jaw so tightly that Ember could swear she heard his teeth grinding. “We have school today.” He grunted.
“Well, guess what?” she snapped, “You’re both sick. I’ll write you a note tomorrow.” She stared him down, flashing her wolf eyes at him, daring him to defy her.
He dropped his gaze. Kai looked miserable.
“Okay, kiddies,” she joked, “Since it’s almost five am. Why don’t we
all just get up and get dressed? I’ll make everybody waffles.”
Quinn gazed at Isa with such love. Ember hoped their enemies never offered Quinn waffles or Wi-Fi, they’d never see him again and she suspected his brain was more of a weapon then anybody imagined.
21
TRISTIN
As always, chaos ensued. People were fighting over who showers first, who needed to pee, who needed to brush their teeth. Bodies squeezed past each other in the hallway and doors slammed with unnecessary force. Tristin was already dressed and ready to go. She didn’t waste time with makeup just threw on her clothes, pulled her hair into a ponytail and made for the stairs.
She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but Isa’s voice carried in the sudden quiet of the hallway.
“Allister, I’m doing the best I can.” Tristin assumed she was on the phone. “Of course, I’m keeping an eye out but I can’t be obvious about it.” There was a pause then, “That couldn’t be helped. No-It’s been years. Nobody’s ever-Yes, I get that but it’s delicate. They’re dangerous. You know it’s not that easy. They don’t know they are prisoners.”
Tristin’s mouth felt sour. Had Allister created some kind of temporary prison here in town? The idea made her cringe. Who were they rounding up and how did they not know about it? They patrolled nightly. And what were they doing to them that they didn’t even realize they were prisoners. Quinn was right to hate his dad; there was something so off about him. She knew Isa only associated with Allister because it was necessary but she wished there was another way.
She knew she was being unreasonable. Isa was their alpha. She always did what was good for the pack. She took care of them.
“Yes, I know what I’m doing. Everything is being handled.”
Isa’s cell beeped as the call ended. She thought she was alone until she heard Wren ask, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
There was a groan, “I have literally no idea what I’m doing.”
“Do you think sending the boys to Josephine is a good idea?” Wren questioned.
“I’m not sure; but she sent me that letter a year ago. She said she had a vision. She said in her vision Kai made a terrible mistake and Tristin’s banshee powers returned. She told me when it happened I needed to send word to her. At the time, I wrote it off. I mean, she’s so old. But Kai did screw up and Tristin screamed. Something bad is happening here and clearly, Josephine has some idea what it is. I can’t ignore it, Wren. She knows things.”
“Why not tell Allister then?”
Isa sighed. “Because I don’t trust him, I just don’t.”
“What if he finds out we‘re keeping things from him? Allister works for the Grove, Isa.”
“We work for the Grove, Wren,” Isa hissed back.
Tristin’s breath caught and she slapped a hand over her mouth and made for the stairs. What the hell did that mean? Isa had to answer to the witches’ council but she didn’t work for the Grove. The Grove didn’t really get involved in shifter business. There was an agreement in place. None of this made sense. Why was Isa sending her brother and Rhys on some super-secret mission? Who the hell was Josephine? Why did she care about Tristin’s banshee powers?
There was only one person who could help her with this. She needed to talk to Quinn. Tristin went downstairs and ate breakfast with everybody else, throwing elbows over waffles and bacon like everything was fine. She couldn’t help but look at Isa every few minutes.
Whenever Isa caught her staring, Tristin stuffed another bite of waffle into her mouth and slid her gaze to Quinn. Quinn smiled and winked. She panicked and smiled back. Quinn’s smile faltered, looking at her with a deeply honed suspicion. She stuffed another piece of bacon in her mouth and spent the rest of breakfast, making pictures with the butter and syrup. By the time breakfast ended, she’d eaten her body weight in waffles. She felt sick but she had a plan.
Guilt and bacon burned a hole through her belly as she lay in wait for him at the foot of the staircase, hoping to snag him in his waffle-induced bliss. She knew he’d do it. He’d do anything she asked of him. That was the problem.
When she snagged him by the arm, he jumped a foot.
“What the hell, Dagger?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” He looked at her dubiously. She very rarely initiated conversations with him, or anyone really.
“Um, well if you wanted to talk we just ate breakfast together. You sat less than a foot away from me for over an hour.”
She stared him down.
“Oh,” he said, frowning. “You don’t want to talk to me; you want to talk at me. I should have known when you smiled at me.” He sighed morosely, “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Let’s go outside.”
His face crumpled and he whined, “No. Not outside. Outside means that you are not only going to ask me to do something horrible but it’s so horrible you don’t want the pack to know about it.”
She shushed him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. She said nothing when he laced their fingers together. She dragged him all the way to the edge of the property where she knew there was no chance even the wolves could hear.
She stood awkwardly, trying to decide the best way to ask for a favor.
“So, talk,” he told her. She looked down at their entwined fingers. She was going to hell for this. She took a deep breath and told him everything she’d heard. The whole thing. Quinn stared at her blinking owlishly behind his lenses.
“So…?” she asked.
“So…what?”
“So, you don’t think it’s strange Isa saying she works for the Grove?”
“Everybody works for the Grove, Dagger, if they want to stay on their good side.”
Okay, she’d thought the same thing but still, she had other questions. “Okay, then what did she mean by prisoner? Who’s being held prisoner and where? And what does it have to do with me, Kai and Ember? Why are my banshee powers coming back now? Why does this crazy psychic know anything about us? Can any of this save my brother from the Grove?”
She was out of breath by the time she was done and Quinn looked fascinated and, well, a little turned on. “Focus,” she told him, shaking their joined hands to get his attention.
“Oh, I’m focused.”
Tristin rolled her eyes, “Focus on the problem at hand.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“What is Isa up to and can it help save Kai from the Grove?”
He looked sick, “Listen, Dagger, you know I love your…everything, so much, but I’m not investigating our alpha. Not even for you.”
“But what if she knows how to help Kai?”
“Do you think if Isa was worried about Kai and the Grove she wouldn’t do everything to protect him? He’s her favorite, more than Wren, more than her own brother.”
“Nobody is even talking about it. They are all too focused on helping Ember. I need you to focus on helping me help Kai.”
“Help Kai?” Quinn echoed. “How do you propose we do that?”
“Quinn, your father is on the council.” His eyes widened at the mention of his father. “Hell, your father is the council. If anybody would have information about what happens when a reaper actively prevents the death of a collected it would be him. This can’t be the first time this has happened. It just can’t be.”
“My father knows what Kai did. If he had any plans of addressing it, I’m pretty sure he would have done so the night Ember got here. Do you want me to point out that he hasn’t pursued notifying the Grove about what he did? You want me to casually ask my father-my father who hates me-for a favor for my friend, who he also hates?”
Tristin played with Quinn’s fingers. “I didn’t say I wanted you to talk to your dad.”
He pulled his hand back, exasperated. “Then why did you even bring him up?”
Her eyes slid away.
“Tristin, just tell me what you want me to do already.”
“Remember last summer when you hacked into your family’s grimoire?”
Quinn’s mouth fell open, “You mean the time my father disowned me, threw me out of the house for months and threatened to kill me himself if I ever did it again. Yeah, I vaguely recall that.”
“Last time you were trying to break into your dad’s personal records. What we need is more general. We need access to the library.”
“The Grove library?” Quinn asked, “Are you kidding me? Where would we even begin? The Grove holds all records. If I could even get in, which I’m sure I couldn’t, where would we even begin to look?”
She slid her eyes away guiltily. “There has to be information on reapers. If we went in looking for that specifically…”
“Are you kidding me?” he shouted, “Do you remember how difficult it was last time and that was just my family’s personal grimoire. It took me two days and I barely managed to read three pages before my dad shut me down. He increased not only his firewall and encryption and he maxed out the wards too.”
“You are the smartest person I know. If anybody can do-”
“Tristin. Are you listening to yourself? It would take an entire coven of neo-pagan hackers to get past all the enchantments on that database. The Grove has texts dating back over a thousand years.”
“It used to be public record.” she pouted.
“Well there is no way we can hack into that computer. Not unless you have a coven in your back pocket I don’t know about.”
She knew better than to ask if he knew any witches that would be willing to help. He was a traitor as far as they were concerned. He had defected to align himself with shifters and reapers. There was no greater sin in his father’s eyes and his father was the voice of the witch community.
Something occurred to her then. “It used to be a matter of public record.”
Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things (Dead Things Series Book 1) Page 13