The Trinity Sisters

by Kristin Coley

  My own life should have made me bitter and angry at the fate that had separated my family. My own mother had made her decisions, based on the same ancient prophecy that made Portia fear me. She could have drowned us as children, but instead hid us, protecting us from those who feared or desired the power we would eventually wield. I would never know if her decision was an attempt to keep the prophecy from ever coming to be, or to give us a chance to be old enough to survive it.

  “And if they feel as I do? If once we’re united, we can defeat the darkness … what happens then?” I asked, remembering my mother’s rhyme. Good and evil battle, once three sisters unite.

  “A thousand years of light,” Portia said, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Your choice. A thousand years of darkness, or a thousand years of light.”

  “So, it’s not hopeless,” Garvin exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Girl, why didn’t you just say that in the beginning? We been sitting around here thinking evil’s gonna take over the world, when the whole time good’s been sitting here waiting for its turn.” He punched me in the arm with this and sat back, shaking his head over our unnecessary, at least to his mind, doomsday predictions.

  Portia opened her mouth to retort and then closed it, seeming unable to come up with anything.

  “Now, what’s this about a Council? I hope they aren’t your form of government, because it sounds like they’re a bunch of namby pamby doomsayers,” Garvin continued, leaning forward eagerly now, more interested to learn about the inner workings of witch politics.

  Portia looked nonplussed at the rapid turn in questioning.

  “Um ... we don’t have a government,” she replied. “The Council is a collection of our elders, who keep our history and documents. They act as a true council, guiding and teaching those that seek knowledge.”

  “But they want to destroy the trinity before it’s formed?” Garvin demanded to know.

  “No.” Portia shook her head. “They’ve never declared action one way or another. They only keep our history alive.”

  “Then why are there people out to kill me?” I asked, perplexed. “How do they even know we exist?” This was the question that bothered me the most. How had any of them known we existed? That we were the trinity they feared? Obviously, I had the mark on my arm, but that didn’t explain how they knew to start searching for us.

  “Your mother came to the Council seeking guidance when she was pregnant with your youngest sister,” Portia answered, throwing me for a loop. Somehow, I’d always imagined my mother had acted on her own when she separated us, but maybe that wasn’t the case. It made me wonder if my other belief about my mother was true.

  “She suspected you, her daughters, were the trinity the prophecy spoke of. Her father, your grandfather, had been a member of the Council, before dying in an accident right before you were born. That’s how she knew so much about the prophecy.” She paused to take a breath before continuing. “The Council holds the collective history of witches and warlocks, but not everyone seeks the Council’s knowledge. You need to understand, there are very few who realize the prophecy is happening right now. My grandmother was a member and my father hoped to be a member.” A flicker crossed her face at the mention of her father, but I couldn’t decipher the emotion behind it. “I grew up on the stories, and specifically, the story of your mom.”

  My eagerness to know more about my mother was apparent, as I leaned forward. Knowledge of my mother had been limited to my own memories, and time had faded them. A child’s perspective was all I had of my mother, so hearing about her from someone else was intriguing.

  “She approached my grandmother first, an act my grandmother found unusual. Most seek the Council as a whole, usually sending communication, asking for whatever they need before actually meeting with them. Your mom showed up at my grandmother’s house unexpectedly one night, eight months pregnant, and told my grandmother her suspicions.”

  A log popped in the fireplace, causing me to jump slightly. “My grandmother didn’t believe her at first. There were no details specific to the birth of the trinity and no reason to think these three girls would be it. Nothing in the prophecy mentioned they would come from the same family even, or be girls. It wasn’t until your mom mentioned that you could cast illusions that my grandmother thought maybe.” She looked at me carefully.

  “Your gift is unusual. All of the gifts mentioned in the prophecy are; illusion, sight and flight. I’ve never heard of anyone with those talents, much less the ability to manifest it as you do. Your mother claimed you could do it as soon as you connected with your unborn sister. A sign of kinship, and by that, I mean of a coven. This is where your lack of knowledge makes explaining more difficult.” She told us before attempting to explain.

  “Witches and warlocks are generally part of a coven. Often, family members will form a coven, but anyone with an affinity for a talent, or another witch can join. It’s more about the friendship and companionship than power, in most covens. Most have no magic, until puberty. We can’t do even the simplest of spells until then, and being able to do magic with no spell .... I’ve never heard of anyone doing it—until you.” Her explanation helped me understand the depth of my mother’s shock when she discovered our abilities. I couldn’t help but wonder about the role my father played, when Portia continued, “Your mother felt your father knew you were the trinity and planned to use you for his own dark purposes.” A flare of shock went through me at her statement. Our father was evil, of that I had no doubt, but the extent of his evilness still managed to surprise me. “My grandmother could never get her to tell her why she felt that way, but your mother was adamant that your father couldn’t be trusted with you.” I knew precisely why our mother had decided our father couldn’t be trusted, but didn’t feel the need to share my knowledge. I couldn’t be sure how Portia would react to my evident ability to see evil along with my other gifts. “Your mother also believed the Council couldn’t be trusted.”

  “Ha! I knew it was coming,” Garvin cried, pointing a finger at Portia. “Somebody’s always corrupt.”

  I laughed at Garvin’s outburst, even as Portia’s frustration became evident. “Not the entire Council, but specific members,” she retorted, glaring at him. “Your mother felt at least one member of the Council was supporting her husband, feeding him information on the prophecy.”

  “Why? Was it a secret?” I asked, puzzled as to why he would need assistance.

  “Not really. But the text it was written in was old, the wording obscure, and unless your father was an historian, there really wasn’t much reason for him to be interested specifically in the prophecy. And if his plans were nefarious, I imagine he didn’t want them advertised.”

  “Ooooh, cloak and dagger,” Garvin interjected before looking at me. “I think your Daddy was a dirty player, Roe.” I was in full agreement with his statement, as I replayed everything she’d told us.

  “Can I talk to your grandmother? Not the full Council, since that would obviously be dangerous at the moment, but just her?” I asked Portia, hoping I could get more information out of her, similar to the lady at the Youth Village.

  She shook her head negatively, “My grandmother refused to help your mother, declaring what she planned to do flouted everything the Council stood for.” She looked ashamed as she told me, and I was taken aback by this admission, not realizing her grandmother disagreed with my own mother’s decision. “My grandmother died in an accident several months later; an accident eerily similar to the one that killed your grandfather, right before your own birth.”

  “The plot thickens,” Garvin whispered next to me, and I had to choke back an ill-timed laugh.

  “My father told my brother and me the prophecy, about the night your mother came and our grandmother turning her away. He became obsessed by it, after her death, believing your mother was right, but our grandmother was wrong for turning her away when she needed help. He felt if you were to become the trinity, you had the potential to be extraordi
narily dangerous.”

  I sensed she was editing now, skirting around items she didn’t want to admit. I didn’t believe Portia had taken the shots at me, but I had no doubt she suspected who did.

  “Why did your father become obsessed after your grandmother’s death? How did he know about that night?” If I could fill the holes she’d intentionally left, maybe I could find the missing piece. My initial thought had been her grandmother was the one helping my father, but knowledge of her death changed things. Two Council member deaths, under similar circumstances, and both individuals connected to my family and the prophecy, seemed a little more than coincidence to me. Granted, I only had her word about it, at the moment.

  “My father wanted to be part of the Council. It was his dream. They only allow five members at a time, though. It’s not unusual for it to be passed down in families, and that was the case with ours. My grandmother was about to retire, which was perhaps the reason your mother approached her, and my father was going to take her place. He happened to be there the night your mother came. He bore witness.” She paused, struggling with her next words. “Your family destroyed my family. I grew up believing that. Not because anyone told me so, but it’s how I felt.” She smiled apologetically at me. “I understand now, that isn’t true, but I believed it for a very long time. You see, my mother was with my grandmother when the accident took her life. They were both killed. It changed my father. It changed all of our lives.” Tears glistened in her eyes, as she told me this, and I could see her life had been equally as difficult as my own, just in a different way.

  “I told you my father became obsessed. Their deaths were the reason why. He believed your father caused their deaths, and all because of the prophecy. He never joined the Council, because when he told them his theories, they laughed. None believed him. My father made it his mission to prove them wrong.” Her next words were quiet. “And he dragged my brother and me along with him.”

  “Did your brother or father shoot at us?” I asked her, equally quiet. She looked at me startled, her face a mask of denial before it collapsed.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted painfully. “I haven’t seen my brother, since he turned eighteen and left us. I have no idea what happened to him. Only that my father believed he would make us proud.” It was clear the loss of her brother was a raw wound. “I wasn’t sure you were even the one we were searching for, until I met you and saw the tattoo on your wrist. My father, he wasn’t supposed to do anything. You have to believe me. Not until we were sure.” Her words were desperate now. “I haven’t spoken to him. He disappeared right after I warned you. I don’t know what happened to him. That’s why I came with him when he found me.” She motioned to Garvin as she said this. “I was hoping ….”

  “What were you hoping?” I probed, more sympathetic than angry at her disclosures. In many ways, her life was on the course it was because of mine. We were connected by circumstances outside of our control.

  “To find answers,” she finally replied.

  Chapter Eleven

  I collapsed on my bed, exhausted after the conversation with Portia. I could tell it had taken a toll on her as well, so we decided to take a break. My thoughts swirled around, tangling with one another over everything I’d learned. Her revelations raised more questions though. My instincts told me her father had been the one to take the shots at me, and would continue to be an issue. I glanced at the incomplete tattoo on my wrist, knowing until Quinn came into her power, we were all at risk.

  The door burst open, startling me. Luke staggered in, looking pale and shaky.

  “What ... are you okay?” I asked, jumping from the bed to go over to him.

  “I need to lie down,” he muttered hoarsely, stumbling to the bed. I kept one arm around him and his weight pulled me down with him as he half fell onto the bed. I tugged on his arm, trying to shift him around and he pulled himself over. I patted him down, looking for a wound of some kind, but couldn’t find one, so I lifted his eyelids to check dilation. His skin was clammy, making me think he’d come down with something. But he’d seemed fine this morning. Maybe it was food poisoning.

  “Are you sick? Do you need to throw up?” I asked him, worriedly.

  “Whaa …” he murmured, cracking an eye open. He caught my worry in a glance and struggled to sit up. “No, I’m mentally scarred,” he told me, attempting a sickly smile.

  I sat back, my legs folded underneath me, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sheila,” he started, and I snorted at his use of her name. He paused, giving me a look, so I mimed zipping my lips. “Anyway, Sheila and I chatted, while you talked to Portia.” He paused, swallowing audibly. “She told me why Garvin is named Garvin, after Marvin Gaye.” The look of horror on my face caused him to nod. “Yeah. It was bad. I can tell you.” His eagerness to unload the burden of knowledge was apparent, but I shook my head violently. I had avoided that conversation for years. I didn’t know if I could survive the telling of the story, especially not from a man I wanted to have sex with, eventually.

  My hand covered his mouth, “If you ever want to have sex with me, you will never tell me how Garvin got his name.” His eyes widened, and he nodded, but before I could pull my hand away from his mouth, he captured it with his hand and placed a kiss in my palm. He kept my hand in his, as he leaned against the headboard, studying me.

  “I was so disturbed by Sheila’s tale, I completely forgot to ask how it went with Portia,” he commented, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. The pad of his thumb was rough, even as the sensation soothed my own raw emotions.

  “I’m so disturbed about you knowing the origins of Garvin’s name, I’ve forgotten what Portia said,” I replied with a laugh. He gave me his killer half smile, and my heart flip flopped. Portia’s words had finally explained how deep the shit we were in actually was, but even knowing, I couldn’t regret any of the decisions that brought me to the man in front of me.

  “Well, consensus is my father’s a serial killer.” I flipped my wrist over and tapped the tattoo. “Until this is complete, my life is in danger from fanatics who want to destroy the trinity before it can exist. Hmm, what else? Oh yeah, apparently I’m more powerful on my own than entire covens working together, and when united with my sisters, we can destroy the world.” I paused, taking in his wide eyes. “And that’s the thing ... my sisters and I decide if the world will be good or evil for the next thousand years, if the prophecy is to be believed.”

  “So you learned a lot,” he commented nonchalantly. I nodded, before throwing myself on him. He caught me in his arms and held me tightly. “I’ll keep you safe.” I nodded against his chest, the fabric of his button down shirt smooth against my face. I tilted my head and whispered the fear that haunted me. “What if we condemn the world to darkness?”

  His arms tightened and he answered, “You won’t.” I attempted to ask how he knew this, but he rocked me gently, “Listen to me. You have no reason to be as good as you are. The power you have—you could have used it to do anything, but you make little kids happy on their birthdays. You don’t have to work. You could cast illusions and have anything you want. You could hurt people, destroy and con, anything, but you don’t.” He sighed and gave a quiet laugh. “You’re not evil and neither are your sisters.” A tear slipped down my cheek at those words and was soaked up by his shirt.

  “I know that’s why you’re worried. You haven’t seen them since you were very small. But time doesn’t change character, and you know Kincaid.”

  “But Quinn,” I said, my biggest fear she had somehow been found by our father and shaped by his twisted dreams.

  “We don’t know yet, but have faith. Your mother worked very hard to keep you safe. I imagine she did the same for Quinn, and we’ll find her and Kincaid,” he answered, his voice strong and confident. “And the world will be better for having the three of you united.”

  His words calmed my fears and fed my determination. I would reunite my sisters, and togeth
er we would defeat those that stood against us. I held tight to the thought that together we could keep back the darkness for a thousand years. I had no idea how it was possible, but it had become my goal.

  A little while later, we made the decision to split up. Luke wanted to run background checks on Portia and her father, and see what he could dig up on her brother, as well. I wanted to go back to my house and pack up some of my own things, mainly comfortable clothes. It was decided I would stay at Luke’s apartment, until we could resolve the gunman issue. There was no mistaking the guilt on Portia’s face when it was mentioned, but I still believed she had been caught in circumstances beyond her control. She’d made the call to warn me I was in danger and to reveal quite a bit of information I had no clue about. I might be putting a shit load of faith in my instincts, but they hadn’t failed me yet.

  “Luke.” I caught his arm, feeling the muscles tense under my hand. He didn’t agree with the idea of separating, but I would have Garvin and Portia with me. He needed to run the checks on Portia and her family without her knowing, and he couldn’t do it with me around either.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked, the muscle in his jaw ticking slightly.

  “Nope,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He returned my embrace, unable to deny me. “Can you look and see if Kincaid was registered as a student at the University of Tennessee?” Because my arms were around him, I felt his jolt of surprise before I looked up at him.

  “Do you think she attended school there?” he asked, before understanding dawned on him. “The big orange T.”

  “Yep. I’m sure she would have been registered under Katie Maxwell, unless she changed her name back to Kincaid. I don’t know how strong her memories of ... before would be.” He caught my hesitation and tightened his arm around me.

  “Either way, we’ll find her,” he replied confidently. He looked at me seriously. “Be careful with Garvin and Portia. I’m still not comfortable with you going back to your house. I know you trust Portia, but her father is a loose cannon. He sounds a bit fanatical, and if that’s the case, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”