Visions of the Witch - [Whispers 04]

by Tara West

  Krysta nodded, and then she spoke in a voice laced with emotion. “W-we thought you were going to die or at least be brain dead.”

  AJ swallowed before looking at both of us with a glint of determination in her eyes. “I know, but I’m going to recover. I might even be able to play softball.”

  “Basketball is out then?” I asked and then instantly regretted the question. Duh. Of course basketball was out.

  AJ’s gaze dropped to her lap. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry,” Krysta said.

  AJ would probably need a lot of physical therapy this fall. She was lucky to even be alive.

  My throat tightened as I squeezed AJ’s hand. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

  Not a muscle in AJ’s face twitched, making her appear to be carved of stone. Her eyes, however, were simmering with rage.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I said.

  AJ averted her gaze, but not before a single tear slipped over the rim of one eyelid. “I should have told my mother about my brother’s driving. I put too much faith in my powers.” Her gaze slid to the window. “I’ve been having the same stupid dreams every night. I don’t even think it’s a vision because everyone acts and dresses like they’re from three centuries ago. I should have known something was wrong.”

  “Your mom told me your powers are still strong,” Krysta said. “They’re just changing.”

  “Yeah, she told me that, too.” AJ heaved a sigh. “But I don’t know.”

  I supposed now was as good a time as any to let my friends in on my secret. I warily eyed them, gnawing on my lower lip as I wondered what they’d think about my newest gift. “My powers are changing, too.”

  “They are?” Krysta turned on me with a sharpened gaze. “How?”

  I wasn’t too sure, but I thought I heard a note of accusation in Krysta’s voice. It was too late not to tell them now. Besides, I needed to tell someone or I’d go crazy. After all, being a mind reader was hard enough, but the power I could wield with my newest gift was actually scaring me.

  I swallowed a knot that had formed in my throat before fixing Krysta with a hard stare. “You know how Mr. Sleznick decided not to give us that pop quiz?”

  “I would have failed.” Krysta groaned before waving a hand at AJ. “It’s been too hard to focus on studying with AJ like this.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “He changed his mind because I told him to. My mind told him to cancel the quiz.”

  Krysta’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  AJ leaned toward me as her eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “So you are a mind reader and a mind controller?” Krysta’s voice was laced with awe.

  I nodded.

  “Holy crap!” AJ jolted upright, causing all of the little lights on the monitor beside her to blink and beep. AJ ignored the monitor as her wide eyes centered on Krysta. “Are your powers changing, too?”

  “Nope.” She shrugged. “Just the same old curse of being woken up at strange hours by dead people.”

  I thumbed toward Krysta. “She’s had a lot of extra company at the hospital.”

  “Oh, Krysta, I’m sorry,” AJ said. “How are you holding up?”

  “It’s okay, for the most part.” Krysta’s gaze focused on something in the corner of AJ’s room.

  Chills swept up my spine as I realized she was probably staring at a ghost. I rubbed the goose pimples on my arms. One of these days, I’d get used to Krysta’s gift. AJ’s voice dropped. “You guys didn’t have to wait here for me.” One didn’t have to be a mind reader to know AJ was suffering from guilt.

  Her gift had failed her, and she blamed herself.

  Krysta’s brows shot up beneath her bangs. “Are you kidding? You’re our best friend. We’re not leaving you, AJ.”

  AJ leaned back against her pillow. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve dealt with plenty of ghosts before,” Krysta said. “I’m just glad I wasn’t getting any visits from you.”

  “Me, too.” AJ sighed and closed her eyes.

  She had already begun to snore by the time Krysta and I slipped out of her room. I slumped against a wall and exhaled as a wave of tension rolled off my shoulders. I’d been so worried over AJ. At least she was going to make it. But what would happen to her after she returned home and began her recovery?

  What would happen to all of us?

  There was no doubt in my mind our gifts were changing. How much more would they change? Would we be able to cope with the changes? Would Krysta be visited by more than dead people? Maybe demons or angels? Would AJ see more than the future?

  What kind of person would I become when I had mastered the power to read and control people’s thoughts? And if I developed even more powers over the next few years… How could I learn to control them? It was tempting enough to spy on other people’s thoughts. Would I have enough restraint to keep from bending people to my will?

  ***

  AJ

  Even before I opened my eyes, I sensed she was near me. Aunt Bertrice had this aura that permeated the air and enveloped me. When Aunt Bertrice was in the room, I felt more alive than ever before. It was as if her essence had crawled beneath my skin and made my flesh hum with energy.

  I liked it.

  I remembered her now, from when I was in a coma. Visions were coming back to me of her holding my hand, touching my head, and a soothing warmth flooding through me. Weird, how I’d been unconscious but still sensed she was near.

  She was smiling down at me when I finally managed to pry my eyes open. Aunt Bertrice looked just like my grandma. In fact, it was obvious she was Grandma’s twin. She even wore her grey hair in the same long braids that draped over her shoulders. Though she was small in size, she more than made up for it in the way she carried herself. She radiated confidence, from the twinkle in her wizened eyes, to a sure smile set in a strong jaw. The only difference I could see between the them was that Grandma had blue eyes like mine. Aunt Bertrice’s eyes were grey and maybe a bit cloudy.

  “Good morning.” She patted my hand.

  I gasped.

  Just the slightest contact from her, and it was as if sparks were igniting between us.

  “Hi, Aunt Bertrice.” I strained to sit up. It was hard with a broken arm and a head that felt like it was stuffed full of rocks.

  She adjusted the lever of my bed until I was raised to a sitting position. “How do you feel?”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t heal you more.” She frowned, patting my hand again. “The doctors would have been suspicious.”

  My eyes widened. Though I’d suspected my aunt was a healer, it was still shocking to hear her say it. “So it’s true. You saved me.”

  She shrugged as a playful smirk pulled at one corner of her mouth.

  “Thanks.” I sank into the pillows behind me.

  “Any time, sweetheart,” Aunt Bertrice sweetly intoned before leaning over me. She reached out a palm and pressed it against my head. “Here. Let me try to dull that headache.”

  I let out a sigh of relief as the warmth from her hand seeped into me. Her touch felt like adrenaline, tranquility, and morphine all rolled into one.

  “Better?” she asked after pulling away.

  It felt as if a huge weight had suddenly been lifted from my skull. “Much.” I sighed. “You’re amazing.”

  The blurry hospital room was suddenly in focus. I had at least a dozen vases of flowers at the foot of my bed. Strange how I hadn’t noticed before. It was as if my headache had impaired my vision.

  Aunt Bertrice’s eyes sparkled with what looked like amusement. “Being amazing runs in the family.”

  “I wish,” I groaned. “My gift failed me. That’s why I’m here.”

  She shook her head. “Your gift is changing. In time, it will be stronger than ever. I thought your mother told you that.”

  “Sh
e did,” I said, though I still didn’t understand why the change would allow my gift to fail me.

  As if she sensed my distress, my aunt added, “You just need to learn how to control it. Don’t worry. It will come.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Aunt Bertrice merely smiled. “As long as you keep healing so quickly, you’ll be able to go home in a few days.”

  “Will you be there?” I asked. Even though the doctor said I wasn’t going to die, I still wanted to see Aunt Bertrice when I was released from the hospital. Something about her was so soothing. I felt so much better when she was around. Call me selfish, but I didn’t want her to leave.

  Aunt Bertrice’s face lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. “I wouldn’t miss your homecoming.”

  A wave of fatigue overcame me, and I had the urge to take a long nap. I managed enough energy to smile at my aunt. “You remind me a lot of Grandma. I like you.”

  She tapped a few buttons, and my bed lowered. “Get some rest, dear. The body always needs sleep after a healing.”

  Chapter Four

  AJ

  “Surprise!” The echoing cry filled our living room and made my head ring.

  I smiled at my BFFs, who greeted me at the front door of my house. It felt so good to be home after spending over a week in the hospital. My mother’s living room was decorated in hand-painted “Welcome Home AJ” posters and green and silver balloons, our school colors. The whole house smelled of spices and good food, and I could hear my grandma and Aunt Bertrice singing in the kitchen.

  After my mom helped me to the sofa, Krysta and Sophie sat beside me. My mom disappeared into the kitchen, hopefully to help prepare cheeseburgers or big, juicy steaks. I never wanted to swallow another processed piece of meat or slimy pudding again.

  “We wanted to hide behind the furniture and surprise you,” Krysta said, “but your mom didn’t want us to scare you.” Krysta rolled her eyes at that last part. Probably because she was used to being scared all the time by dead people.

  I smiled weakly. I was happy to see her and Sophie, but I seriously just wanted to go to bed. Not have a party.

  “I brought you a cake!” Sophie squealed as she clasped her hands together.

  “And I brought your makeup work. Lots and lots of it.” Krysta smiled to take the sting from the words. She pushed back an errant piece of hair that popped out from beneath her headband.

  My hand instinctively flew to my bald head, which was hidden by one of my softball caps, and I realized how much I’d love to have a full head of hair.

  Krysta heaved a large sack of what looked like a ton of books and papers onto her lap.

  Crapola. I grimaced.

  “You would think your teachers would go easy on you when you almost die,” Sophie said, groaning.

  I gawked at the bag as Krysta hoisted it back off her lap, and it fell to the floor with a thud. I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can finish all this.”

  Sophie patted my shoulder. “We’ll help you.”

  My grandma stepped into the room. She looked just like Aunt Bertrice, small in size but definitely not in spirit. Her eyes always twinkled with something that looked like mischief. I imagined she and Aunt Bertrice had gotten into a lot of trouble when they were my age. Grandma tossed her long ponytails behind her shoulders with a swoop of her head, and then wiped her hands on a flour-stained apron. Gawd, I hoped they were making biscuits. And gravy. Lots and lots of sausage gravy.

  “Never mind about schoolwork, AJ,” Grandma said. “You need to focus on healing.”

  “If my GPA drops, I won’t be eligible for softball.” I shrugged, careful of my arm in the sling. “I’ll heal later.”

  My mother followed Grandma and tapped her on the shoulder. “We should tell her,” she said as she stole a glance in my direction.

  “Tell me what?” I asked as a knot of panic formed in my chest. Had the doctor told them I wouldn’t be able to play softball? Was my fractured arm broken beyond repair? Surely Aunt Bertrice could finish fixing up my wounds now that I was home.

  “Girls.” Mother waved a hand at all of us. “We have to talk.”

  “About what?” I asked, but I didn’t fight her as she took me by my good arm and propelled me into the dining room. Krysta and Sophie fell into step behind us.

  “Why, about your futures,” my mother said matter-of-factly.

  As if that explained things.

  The dining room was really nice. Mom had this thing about family dinners keeping us together, so she always kept it clean and decorated with fresh flowers. The picture window looked out over her flowerbed and was framed by gauzy pink curtains. Kinda girly, but nice.

  Mother and Grandma sat down at the table and smiled demurely.

  “First things first,” Aunt Bertrice said. She crossed the room to stand behind a large cardboard box on the table. There were holes punched in the sides, and I think there was something in there hissing.

  “What’s in the box?” I raised an eyebrow. Grandma always said her sister was eccentric. For all I knew, there were snakes in that thing.

  “I brought presents.” Aunt Bertrice slowly peeled back the four flaps of the box and reached inside.

  I cringed, expecting something icky and slithery to come out on her arm. Instead, she extracted a tiny all-white cat.

  “One for each of you,” she told us with a grin.

  Sophie gasped as Aunt Bertrice held the tiny white feline toward her. She held out her arms and cuddled the fluffy, blue-eyed creature against her chest. “Omigod!”

  Next came a lanky beige-and-dark-brown Siamese. Aunt Betrice deposited the lazy kitten into Krysta’s arms, where it lolled on its back and playfully swatted at my BFF’s silver necklace.

  My heart skipped a beat as another small form emerged from the box. It was a rough-looking creature. Her fur was wild and wavy, and she was covered in different-colored patches: cinnamon, chestnut, black, and white. She was missing a chunk from one ear. When Aunt Bertrice placed her against my chest, her warmth and weight felt right as she settled on my good arm.

  “Are these for us? Really?” I asked, stupefied. What were we going to do with kittens?

  Krysta stared down at hers as if it had fleas, her nose wrinkled. “I’m allergic to cats.”

  “You won’t be allergic to your familiar,” Aunt Bertrice assured her.

  “My familiar?”

  Aunt Bertrice held her hands out to encompass the three of us and our new pets. “Your spirit guide.”

  I shifted the cat’s weight, my arm already tired. Miffed, she flicked her tail and climbed onto my shoulder like a parrot. “What’s a spirit guide?”

  “Every young witch needs one,” Aunt Bertrice said simply. Her ambiguous replies were frustrating.

  “Witch?” Sophie’s voice was thin and reedy. “I am not a witch.”

  “Oh, you’re not?” Aunt Bertrice sat in one of the chairs at the table and folded her hands on the tabletop. “How else do you explain your gifts?”

  “Mine’s not a gift. Mine’s a curse.” Krysta directed the statement at her kitten, who stared back benignly.

  “I’m sure all of your gifts feel like curses when you don’t know how to control them,” Aunt Bertrice murmured. “That’s what your spirit guides are for. They will help you.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Sophie cut in. “We are actually witches, and these cats are going to teach us how to control our powers?”

  Aunt Bertice nodded like a proud teacher. “Yes, your magical powers.”

  I knew my mouth was open, but I couldn’t really help myself. I mean, come on. The calico kneaded my shoulders with her claws, her purr loud as an engine in my ear. “But they’re cats.”

  “They aren’t just cats, AJ. Haven’t you been listening? They are familiars. In each cat resides the spirit of one of your ancestors.”

  Mine, Krysta, and Sophie’s voices blurted out in unison. “What?”

  “I think this is a good t
ransition into what we really need to discuss,” my mother said, clapping her hands to the arms of her chair and pushing to her feet. She left the room, and returned a moment later holding a white wicker basket lined with a few towels. “If you’d like, the cats can rest here for now.”

  Sophie leapt forward and deposited her white, fluffy cat in the basket without a backward glance.

  I caught my calico’s eye—she was still on my shoulder. Reaching up, I gripped her with my one good hand and put her inside with Sophie’s cat. I looked over at Krysta, who just clung to her Siamese harder.

  “Have a seat, girls,” Grandma told us.

  “Krysta,” my mother said while she toyed with a frayed string on her apron, “we’ve already spoken to your father. Sophie, we need to address your mother and father next. I just don’t know how to go about it. Krysta’s father knows about her gift, so speaking to him was easy.”

  Sophie, Krysta, and I exchanged confused looks. What was my mom talking about?

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  Grandma cleared her throat before exchanging nervous glances with Mother and Aunt Bertrice.

  I got the uneasy feeling that whatever it was they were planning, I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Well, as you know.” Grandma paused and cleared her throat again. “Aunt Bertrice is a retired teacher.”

  “She won Salem’s Teacher of the Year award three times,” Mother interrupted, before exchanging yet another nervous glance with my aunt and grandma.

  “This is an important time for all of you,” Aunt Bertrice said.

  “Your powers are changing,” Grandma added.

  “Adjusting to these changes can be difficult.”

  I don’t know who said that last line. Keeping up with all of them was making my head spin. Didn’t they realize I’d just woken up from a coma?

  “Learning how to connect to your familiar can also be challenging.” Aunt Bertrice flashed a crooked smile as she looked down at her cat—a large, long-legged black one—and scratched her behind the ears. “They may have the spirits of our ancestors, but they are still cats by nature.”

  Grandma sat forward in her seat, fixing all of us with an earnest expression. “You need a mentor.”