Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels)

by Wendolyn Baird

  But, oh God, those nails are sharp, and it's pushing against my back! How can this spirit be so strong on its own? There are no witches here, that means no Death Coven, right?

  “Who are you? Why are you here?” My questions are more whispers than anything else, but that's okay, I know they can hear me. Oh, stars keep me. Why can't it get its hand off of me?

  “I'm looking for my sister, she's hurt... she might be stuck somewhere on your side. Can you help me find her?” Please, I want to say. But asking for help and demanding it yield different results, and as terrified as I am, the key to ghosts is to show no fear. I'm all alone, I can do this. I just have to pretend I'm in charge. Oh, I can't do this.

  Clammy sweat slides down my palms as I grip the strap of my bag to steady the shaking of my hands. The pressure on my back only increases, so with ever weakening legs, I allow myself to be pushed into what I can only guess was a living room... at some point.

  Daisies cover the walls in a garish, molded wallpaper that seems to elongate the room. The bay windows are boarded in rotting wood that fill my nostrils with the stench of mildew, and small flashes of lightning hit the room in disorienting fractures. My shoulders inch closer to my neck, despite my need to stay calm, and the chill has traveled to my lips, causing a numbing sensation that reminds me of bright lights and nitrile gloves. Is this why people fear dentists? A subconscious fear of cold and spirits?

  “Where's the map?”

  The hushed voice is neither male nor female, but wholly immersed in urgency. Crap, now I'm hearing voices.

  “How can I hear you? Where is my sister, do you have her?” Raising my voice, the only way I can push my words out is to sing them. Pretend you're okay, sing, everything is fine. Just don't let the spirit have power over you.

  The mantras are no use.

  Cold air rushes around my wrists, pulling them forward, and a whimper slips out of my throat.

  “Okay! Okay,” I relent, tugging the tablecloth out of my bag, my whole body nearly convulsing in the shivers that run down my spine.

  The smog in my head thickens while I gasp at the frigid air, desperate for more oxygen, panicking against emotions I recognize aren't mine. Time slows down, and I want to ask what's going on, if only I could breathe. Maybe it's hours, maybe only seconds, but the lightning ceases, the room fades away, and then...

  Sasha's standing in front of me, framed by the bright blue doorway and a backdrop of rain that scatters itself over the sloping yard.

  “Tawny, I need your help. Rob went down to the creek. He said it was just another seance, to help her! But then it started raining, and the water is rising so quickly, I don't think he can get out.”

  Her words come out in a quick, gathered exhale, and she waits. The strap on her top has fallen down for the millionth time, and it's there in the harsh porch light, that I see for the first time how thin she's become. Deep hollows cave beneath her cheek bones and around her clavicles, her exposed shoulders are nothing more than skin and bones.

  “Why was he messing with her, out of all spirits? Out of any spirits? Why bother any of them? They always cause pain!” I try to pull her in the door, already wondering where my phone is to call first responders.

  “No, I need you to come with me, we need to go now!” The feral shriek that leaves her mouth stops me dead. This isn't my little sister. This isn't the girl who hid behind me any chance she could take. This woman is willing to stand in front of hell itself and tear down the gates to get what she wants.

  “Sasha, I'm not a good swimmer, and we don't have a boat. What good could we do? Just let me call for help.” Stubbornly holding to a facade of normalcy, I attempt to soothe her, running my hand down her arm. It would have worked last month. Maybe even last week.

  Jerking away from me, she backs further out onto the porch, oblivious to the rain that’s blowing sideways onto her back. I follow her steps, flinching against the weather.

  Her shoulders are set, and her back straightens as she stares me straight in the eyes.

  “He'll drown by the time they get there. I need the Benavidez clan. They know how to handle these things. But you banned me from them! I know you did, you bound me away, and no matter how many times I keep trying to make contact, I can't!”

  A weight drops in my abdomen, and bile raises to the back of my throat. She can't have tried to reach them; she couldn't be that desperate. Steadying myself against the doorway, I shake my head, “They will kill you. You know too much about them, all they care about is the Veil, if you go back there-”

  “I know. That's why you need to go to them. They've never seen you, and like you said, they just care about the Veil. Well, she's going to cross the Veil and take Robert if we don't do anything!”

  Dry heaving, I drop to my knees, only vaguely away of Elara at my side. As though she weren't already asking me to do the unthinkable, Sasha refuses to let me panic in peace. Her delicate hands pull at my shoulders, begging my attention.

  “You've been trying to teach me all year, but I'm just not strong enough. I need you to get him help. I can't let him go, Tania. I just can't. I love him.”

  The water running down her face could be tears, or it could be rain, but the only thing I can focus on are those last three words her lips wrap around.

  She loves him. Loves him enough to risk her life, and mine. Because as much as I've tried to shelter her, she only wants to see the world... and if that world can only include one of us, she's picking him.

  I'm the big sister, it's my job to protect her. So, I do what I've always done, I stand up and I run for the nearest thing that can give her hope.

  “Where are you going?” She yells, fighting to be heard over the downpour.

  But I don't answer, can't answer, as I leave her behind. She'll know soon enough. They all will. Once you make a deal with a Death Coven, there is no going back.

  AS I COME TO, PAIN hits me with the impact of an oncoming car, and I'm as unprepared as a deer in the headlights. Sasha, oh God, Sasha!

  “Where is she? I don't understand!” My chest is aching, and I weakly hang onto the map, wondering if offering it out was the right thing to do after all.

  “You need to get out. It will eat your soul!”

  There's that voice again, and instead of feeling hands, a haze of a face shoves itself into mine. A woman, as grey as the darkness around her, and covered in more claw marks as any one person should possibly be. Her hollowed eye sockets follow my gaze no matter where I try to avert it, and I desperately wish the lightning would cease for a moment so I can stop seeing the horror of her face.

  “They will steal you.”

  Behind me, thunderous footsteps hesitate back and forth across the rooms, searching. With her last whispered words echoing in my head, I lunge forward, my pulse galloping through my veins as I try to clutch onto the ghost for help.

  What a stupid thing to do. My fingers pass through insubstantial ice, and I lose my footing, just as I recognize Atlas calling out for me.

  But I never hit the ground, instead the floorboards fall beneath me, and gruesome hands pull at my calves, dragging me under the jagged planks. Pain burns through me like flames against the cold, and I scream for him, scream for pain, and scream as though it could release me from these murderous clutches.

  Chapter 14: Atlas

  SOMEWHERE INSIDE THE squalid rooms, I can hear the silver tones of Tania's voice lilting up in questions. Relying on my sense of the ground, I rush past collapsed boards and rotting planks in the floor.

  Each room I pass through is darker than the last, the only light filtering in from busted glass. The earth far below is giving off vibrations against the soles of my feet, cautioning me where the flooring is too weak, and I find myself trusting that more than my own eyes.

  “Tania?” I call out, the back of my neck prickling and begging me to return to the car. “Tania, where are you? It's me!”

  The air around me is chilling, and with my clothes already damp from the
rain, goosebumps raise almost instantaneously. Something is definitely watching me, and I nervously grasp the knife in my hand a little tighter. A loud creaking noise from my left side draws my attention to a doorway leading upstairs, but before I can step in that direction, a loud crash meets my ears and Tania's voice raises in a halting shriek.

  “Atlas!”

  I dart across the back room towards her voice, nearly falling over as my foot kicks in a damp spot on the floor. Images of rotting hands dragging me by my ankle flash unbidden into my head, and wrenching myself free, I rush forward.

  “Tania, where are you?”

  I can't breathe, the air is even colder than the night before, but carries the same weight to it. Suddenly I'm not terrified of the creature that's been stalking me, but that it's after Tania as well.

  “Atlas,” her voice retches out in slight sobs. “Atlas, please help me, I need help!”

  Shoving aside a pocket door, I crash into the living room, stumbling as the bay window offers no light from the outside world. Sheets of rain pound the walls in a pace that keeps up with my heart, and I can barely make out the top of Tania's torso in the shadow of an overturned couch. She's fallen through the floor, and as I approach her, I can see the frantic movements of her arms clawing at the ground before her. One hand grasps onto my ankle and as a warm liquid seeps into my shoe, a wave of nausea hits me; her nails are bleeding heavily and yet she hasn’t pulled herself up even an inch.

  “Atlas, I can't get out, something is crushing me," she gasps. Her eyes are just another shade of black in this darkness, but I make out that they're streaming with tears and glossed over in panic.

  My fingers are frozen, and I clumsily pull at the boards, not caring at how they slam into my hands and forearms, just wanting to get her out.

  “It's okay, you're okay, I'm here, I'm here now.”

  I can barely make sense of what I need to do because a terrible feeling of panic is overriding my senses. The only thing I know for sure is that I've got to get her out now. Despite the lack of visible threat, the storm outside and the temperature drop is warning enough; the creature from last night is here.

  Tania clutches at my arms and flails like a drowning person, and though the wood breaks easily beneath my grasp, it's not enough to raise her up. I retrieve the knife I'd dropped and begin cutting into the flooring the best I can, her cries echoing in my ears above the blood that's pounding through my head.

  “I'm going to get you out,” I promise, not letting myself focus on the blood she's smearing onto my arms and chest. I don't want to think about how much she's losing to be able to make such a mess.

  “You're going to be okay,” I swear both to her and myself, talking past her hair that's pressed against my jaw and neck as she clings onto my frame. There's a dirty linen under my knees that keeps sliding me backwards, and I eventually recognize it as the tablecloth from the restaurant. She got it.

  “Tania what are you stuck on? I can't tell what else to move!”

  Her fingers are still clawing at my shoulders, and she's shaking uncontrollably. “I'm not, something is pulling me down! It's crushing me! Help!” She gasps next to my ear.

  The prickling feeling at my neck has transformed into a full-fledged chill down my spine. I've destroyed enough of the floor by now that I can see pieces of the foundation beneath that she's perched on precariously. Whatever is pulling her down is completely invisible.

  Desperation pulses through me and I punch my leg in frustration as sweat pours down my face and tears well up in my eyes.

  I need to get her out. It's maddening that I've done everything physically possible to remove her, and yet it's still not enough. Behind me, a dark presence is creeping closer, and once again, thoughts of hags and banshees plague my mind. Trying my best to vanish my fears, I slam my arm down on my leg in agitation. This time, a dull ache shoots through my thigh as I accidentally punch my iron keychain into my leg. The iron!

  Tania's still sobbing, but her breaths are becoming fewer and far between. My eyes snap open and releasing one of her shoulders, I drag the necklace out and try to put it around her.

  I brought the protection charm to protect her, and there's obviously magical interference at hand. If I can just get the necklace on her, it may have enough power to relinquish whatever hold is on her.

  “No, help me, help me!” She begs between haggard breaths, her hands frantically clutching at me. Shit, she thinks I'm leaving her. The clasp refuses to open for me, and every second longer it takes, the lower she sinks, and the higher my panic grows.

  “I am helping. I am, just be still,” I plead, wrapping the chain around her neck. “Just one more second Tania, please.”

  My fingertips keep slipping across the clasp, clumsy in the frigid air. Still, I keep on, blinded by my panic and the dark, and driven by my desperation to free her.

  Just as Tania's hands begin to loosen in despair, the necklace locks, and I let it fall onto her chest as I circle my arms around her, catching her as she slips.

  “Tania, hold on to me. I've got you.” I pray she's still conscious, and push myself backwards, rolling the two of us away from the hole. Her arms feebly tighten around my neck as I move, a weak shadow of her intention to hang onto me.

  I roll us across the floor, moving her legs out of the ground and as far away from the gaping darkness before us. As my vision clears, I begin to fully process the danger we're still in, and quickly snatch the corner of her map from falling down into where she was a moment before.

  “We have to get out of here,” she whispers, no bells or music, or any sort of life left in her voice.

  Pulling her to her feet, I try to move us to the other side of the floor. Less than a step into the action, she collapses back onto the ground.

  “My legs!” Her voice is as jagged as the windows, and thinner than the air that winds its way around us, threatening frostbite with every passing second. Abandoning my knife, I swing her up into my arms and shove the tablecloth on to her stomach as I barrel my way through the door and back into the rain.

  Lightning is flashing so frequently the sky looks like a strobe light, and Tania tumbles easily into my back seat. The air out here is warmer, but the sensation of being stalked is still as strong as ever and I peel away from the curb before either of us even touches a seat belt.

  Gasping against the grey upholstery, Tania wrenches herself into a seated position and buckles herself in awkwardly, twisting so that her legs stretch across the seat before her. Her dark hair is flat and ragged from the rain, and the cluster of stars drags at the ends, swinging against her shoulder.

  My tattoos are throbbing and pushing magic across my skin, knitting together the tears in my arms from the wood. Tania, I'm startled to see, doesn't appear to have any such strong healing power. From my rearview mirror it’s clear enough that her legs are covered in lines of blood. What I'm not sure of though, is if each streak of blood is an individual cut or just the dripping of another wound.

  “We need to get you to a hospital,” I yell over the rain. “Are you okay? What were you doing in there?”

  I flip the heater on and blink against the warmth, grateful for the thawing feeling that's working through my arms. My limbs are shaking so badly, the car is swerving through the storm.

  “No, no hospital,” she stutters. “Take me home, I have to get home.” Her lips are a bluish color, her posture slumped and fading with her strength.

  “Are you kidding me? Look at you!”

  The knot in my chest is threatening to explode, forcing blood through my temples as anger and panic war their way through my veins. I don't know how badly injured Tania is, and my stomach is railing against fear of the worst.

  “Need Elara,” she gasps at me, obviously in a great deal of pain. “I need Elara, please.”

  Weighing the options, I decide to submit to her request, if only because my house is closer, and I know we'll need some magic to put her right.

  The water that sl
oshes up over the road threatens to carry my car away with it, but I'm not a level six mage for nothing. Hanging onto the steering wheel, I envision a tether beneath the muddied water, pulling the vehicle through the storm to my house. As soon as I build that mooring strong enough into my mind, I clutch the keychain in my pocket and let it warm with power. Pulling it out and setting it onto the center of the dashboard, I'm relieved to feel my tires gain traction again and begin to move in the proper direction.

  Now that I'm confident we are going to make it to our destination, I can turn my attention towards keeping Tania cared for until we can get to the damn cat, and my first aid kit. Fumbling with the back of the passenger seat, my hands find a spare jacket I'd shoved into the pocket and toss it over her.

  “Put this over you now before your body completely goes into shock,” I command, my voice harsher than I'd like it to be. My chest is aching from stress and with each beat of my heart, all I can see is the third card I drew last night. The bleeding heart. The dying heart. Tania cannot be that heart.

  This rain came on heavier than anyone suggested it would, and while I will us through it, the image of a shattering figurine is superimposed on my brain. I couldn't figure out last night why the crack that ran down looked so familiar, but with the lightning flashing so rapidly around us, it's impossible to forget. The fault line on that little stone cat mirrored the town's fault lines on a map. The same shape I'd drawn onto my cards as lightning.

  The first three cards have shown their colors, but the last one to come true is one I know I'd give my own life to change.

  Readings can have several different meanings; I have to believe this one is no different.

  Chapter 15: Atlas

  WE PULL INTO MY DRIVE, and I lift Tania out of the backseat carefully. I don't realize I've been holding my breath until I'm stopped short by the sight of Elara darting wildly around the steps, a huge sigh escapes my chest.