“Why would someone want to steal witches though? Or drive them out? You mages have your own power!” My words are shrill, and my neck cranes towards him as I beg the answers.
“I don't know,” he shakes his head. “I just don't know. But if we're going to get rid of that thing, or save your sister, I'm going to have to find out.”
The grim statement rests on his lips like a death sentence, and it occurs to me it might be. I may have been hiding from a Death Coven already, but I've been in mortal danger from the moment I crossed the town line. Why else have I felt something watching me everywhere I go?
Chapter 19: Tania
“OKAY ELARA. I KNOW you hate this, but jump in." I hold my bag open, and press down on the inside, imagining a sturdy kennel. The inside of the canvas molds to fit my design, and the rest of my belongings are safely below and hidden from everyone else.
Ochre eyes glare at me, and she starts meowing loudly. She doesn't want to be carried around like a lap dog; it's undignified and doesn't allow her the freedom she deserves. According to her, the bag is cramped and smells like rocks, and she doesn't appreciate that. Besides that, it limits her view, and she would prefer to walk or at least sit on top of the bag.
They're all the same arguments we've had before, and I sigh, not wanting to fight about it today. “Elara, you can't just follow me around. It'll be a dead giveaway.”
She leaps onto the dresser and begins cleaning her fur. Of course, she doesn't care. A wave of nausea hits, and I dread trying to force her into the bag or leaving her behind. Something about this room isn't right. I know it's silly to be scared when I know the land is protected so severely, but the feeling of being watched never goes away.
By the time Atlas walks in to tell me it's time to leave, I've resorted to staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about not doing anything at all. Anything to ignore the chill at my back and the dread of the research I need to do today.
Annoyance flickers across his face, the one expression I'm actually getting good at recognizing. But he tolerates my need to bring Elara along, even if he isn't much help at getting her into the makeshift kennel. By the time we amble back out to the car, I've got a scratch on my arm to match the stitches on my leg, and it's up to Atlas to gingerly settle my bag into the backseat. Now I just hope she stays put and doesn't cause us to wreck.
I'm getting accustomed to the little roads, even if they're still flooded with stifling energy. A few blocks over, one or two traffic lights, three miniscule shopping centers, and we have passed half the town. It's amazing how much magic is embedded in such a small space. Now the only trick is to pull at the threads and start unraveling some of it.
“You know the phrase is to let the cat out of the bag, right?” Atlas’ profile is somewhat cynical as he teases me, one hand on the steering wheel as he moves us through the smaller neighborhoods.
“Yeah. I've gotten that before,” I retort back, grimacing behind him, where Elara's angry face is just visible beneath the opening of my purse. At least she's somewhat cooperating now.
We reach the shop and I start upstairs, relieved to have her stashed safely away in my bag, even if I can feel her kicking my side in protest. The streets are swimming with people trying to make it from one shaded storefront to the next. Atlas’ place is particularly popular with tourists and locals alike, making it easy for me to slip in unnoticed, but it’s also more likely the Council members will be around. With the look of that man yesterday... I've decided the least amount of attention I can garnish the better.
As for Atlas, he's decided we aren't allowed to split up again for the duration of my stay. After yesterday's misadventure, I guess I can't really blame him for that edict. It's not like I can do much besides work on deciphering the map anyway, not with my leg all messed up.
So, I resign myself to a day of reading and research in a dusty, old office. With any luck, I'll be left to myself. I'm worried about how Atlas is going to explain all this to his brother downstairs, especially because I know by now Nova must have figured out what I am. Squirming nervously, I crack open the single, filmy window, and try to relish the sunlight that pours through.
Whoever set up this room, set it up specifically as a clean space. Somewhere anyone can work, regardless of their magic type or intention. My guess is its purpose was to let Atlas and Elliot learn their trade without getting tangled up in excess energy, or accidentally breaking something with theirs. In a town crawling in mages, it's the absolute perfect place for me to hide my witchcraft. My stomach may be in complete knots, but for the moment, I have a sanctuary, and I may as well use it while I can.
The grueling task of crystal cleansing, tracking, and referencing death rituals takes me hours, and by noon, I'm nowhere near done.
“Knock knock,” Nova's bright voice precedes her arrival, pulling me out of my book, and Elara stretches from her place guarding the window.
“I thought you'd want something to eat.” Poking her head through the door, Nova bustles in with a white paper bag and a small box that smells distinctly like sugar.
“Oh, um...” I stutter, dumbly, unsure of what to make of her appearance.
“Elliot told me about you yesterday, and then Atlas caught us up to speed on everything going on, this morning. I guess, I just wanted to apologize. El may not have been the friendliest, and maybe, I wasn't either.”
“No, no. I get it. I mean, I wasn't exactly honest with you, and witches really seem to a bad rap here, so I thought it would be better if I just... left.”
“Well, I'm sorry. And I hope you find your sister.”
She turns to leave, but the quiet withdrawal jerks me out of my own preoccupation. I ought to show some sort of gratitude for the food.
“Wait, please stay. Eat with me, it was really nice of you to bring food, and if you don't mind, I could use the company.”
She blinks at me in response, her hand on the doorknob as we survey each other. How do we act? Should I apologize for not telling her I knew Atlas?
“Sure. Okay. Yeah sure. Maybe I could help? Atlas said you're trying to find information on some sort of creature?”
Okay, so we're just pretending nothing's awkward and focus on the problems at hand. I can do that.
“Yes. It sounds terrible, like a banshee, but Atlas says it looks like a giant cat.” Beneath my feet, Elara growls, displeased with the comparison. I nudge her with the back of my foot and resist the urge to shush her.
“So, basically, we're scared of a magical lion... and you need to figure out if, and why it killed some unknown witch, so you can save your sister?” Nova surmises flippantly.
Now I'm the one blinking across the room. “Well, yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
She ambles back over, her stomach moving from one side to the next with each step. Sitting down, she sets down her own bag of food, and pulls out a burger and chips.
“So, have you found anything?”
“Ugh, not as much as I'd like,” I reply, idly bending the plastic straw I tossed into my soda. “I've found a large amount of references to proper burials and funeral customs from all sorts of cultures, but not so much on what to do if you expect a death that didn't go so smoothly.”
“And are you just working off that book? Maybe you'd have better luck on Google,” she shrugs, popping a BBQ chip into her mouth.
Shaking my head, I unwrap a burger and shove stray pieces of lettuce back under the bun. “No, I don't think so. The only places I can think to look are chat rooms with some really heavy forces... or the dark web. I'm not so comfortable with either of those, so I think it's safest to just go old school here.”
“That makes sense, I guess we are dealing with something a little outside the norm. I just assumed there would be a more convenient way to look up stuff like that.” Her offhand tone surprises me, and glancing up, the relaxed slump of her shoulders tells me that she really expected googling to work.
“Not really,” I reply suspiciously. “Every coven has its own
set of knowledge and power base, so we like to keep things relatively private. What about Elliot and Atlas? I thought mages worked the same way?”
“Almost.” Nova shrugs, “The Council does like to keep things locked up, unless they've given someone access to it once they've ranked up, but they store everything in a database.”
“That seems risky. Couldn't anybody just hack the system?”
Surely, I'm not the first one to wonder if the Council is hiding something. It's been a niggling itch in the back of my mind since Atlas figured the beast had to be protected by someone high up. But corruption in any sense is hard to stomach, especially in groups that are meant to protect others.
Nova stops chewing and stares at me with an expression that just screams nausea. Uh oh, nope I can't do that again. I've seen enough and puked enough in the past couple of days to last me a year.
“No,” she starts, and I want to relax, knowing she's just anxious, but her anxiety is contagious. “You see... mages who go up against the Council, they can get their powers stripped.”
My jaw drops, my food drops, and all I can focus on is my heart spiraling to the ground. Amongst covens, that kind of punishment is meant only for the most dangerous criminals. To rip something so integral to a person, something attached to their very soul... it's enough to damage them for life, if they can survive the pain.
“So, what does that mean for Atlas for keeping me from the Council? Is that sign outside town serious? Am I really not allowed here?” Once again, I suspect I haven't been taking this place seriously, and the heavier these facts weigh on me, the darker my heart seems to grow.
“Atlas is really sticking his neck out for you. He's technically not breaking any laws, but yes; they take that sign seriously. For a good reason too. I don't know why he thinks a creature like that can be controlled, and I don't mean any offense to you, but I think it's just more likely the thing hunts witches. Maybe the others were just trying to avoid the same thing. Why else would it only show up after you did?”
She stops talking, the only noise between us becomes the movement of food wrappers as I continue my food with an obligatory energy. But everything she's not saying is evident in the distressed look she gives me. And what she really means is, you better be worth it, don't screw things up.
The problem is, I don't think I'm worth it. I've never felt I have been, and the longer that sinks in, the longer I try to redeem myself through Sasha. The longer Sasha demands that of me... the more I hate her. How can I endanger a family this way? How could Sasha's selfishness permeate so deeply that I'm down to this?
By the time Nova excuses herself, I'm letting myself drown in my thoughts, and Elara is the one that walks her down, eyeing me reproachfully for my silence.
Pages of notes lay scattered in front of me, detailing all the ways souls get lost on their way to the Other Realm. Dying without proper burials, dying in a faerie ring, being killed by a vengeful spell, not properly grounding before attempting to cross the Veil, and a dozen other ways that swim about the ink. The letters float together and apart, far too chaotic for me to make sense of, and a smaller part of my brain recognizes the words are still. It's just my mind that's not.
The room is hanging in shades of yellow, the afternoon sun warming even the dust particles that dance across the space. But I hardly feel it, because the chill in my chest can't be stopped by the spells that ward this room. My past is a ghost that can't be walked away from, unlike the woman with the mangled face.
I'm standing in the doorway of a townhouse, hindered by the screen door that makes it undeniable that the plush sofas and armchairs just inside are meant for guests more worthy than me. Wide eyes peer down at me, and I focus on the hastily painted nude nails that clutch a beat-up bag embroidered in flowers.
“I swear, I got here as soon as I could. My train was delayed, and I used one of the city bikes because all the cabs were full.” Not even bothering with a hello, I cut right to my defense, praying that for once, I can avoid the vitriol before it begins.
“Next time try harder. I expect you to be a role model for her, and the stars above know you can't do that if you're constantly late and petulant about your duties. You're the oldest, and one of these days, will become the matriarch. Try to act like it, please.”
My ears are burning, and I have to choke back anger, but manage a complacent smile “Yes Mother. Is there anything else I should keep in mind?”
She cocks her head at me, one hand perched on the door, as though debating about whether or not to let me in. “Yes. Your sister is quite the night owl, so you may want to use that to your advantage. Teach her how to use the moon phases for her benefit, and if you want to be productive otherwise, I suggest you do it while she's asleep in the morning. The girl chatters non-stop, and she's bound to even give you a headache.”
Is that why she's being handed off to me? I know better than to ask out loud, and nod instead.
“You've only got two months to get her up to speed, and then I expect her home with me for the Coven's approval. Otherwise, I'm afraid I simply won't be able to recommend you for that apprenticeship. Nobody will trust your skills if you can't even tutor a novice.”
My teeth grind against each other as I struggle to keep the heat out of my face, hardly breathing against the fire that's building in my chest. If Mother had bothered to find time earlier, Sasha wouldn't be so far behind. What does it say about her skills that she never bothered to teach her own daughter? It's disgraceful that at seventeen she's only half ready for the Coven's test.
Sasha edges into the room just as I'm grabbing onto her bag, and a small smile dances on her lips.
“I'm ready.”
Clapping her hands, Mother surveys the two of us, and formally extends her arms. “Okay you two, come give me hugs goodbye. I expect I'll see you at the Solstice, but make sure I get monthly updates as well. Sasha, this is your chance to finally prove yourself. And Tania?”
I raise my head expectedly at the sound of my name, cautiously hopeful for a more sentimental goodbye. But those dark eyes merely examine me with indifference as she sniffs down at me. “Please, do remember what Coven you belong to. The storm is ours, not the other way around. Show your sister how to home in on her talents and start considering your place as well.”
The words were probably meant to bolster, but all they do is ache. Just like every other interaction I’ve had with her since Dad left.
“Well, Bug, you ready?”
I brush a fly away from my face and toss Sasha’s bag up onto my shoulder. “Let me just walk this bike back and then we’ll catch a train out of the city. Unless there was anything you wanted to do first?”
Bright eyes meet mine with unbridled excitement, and she looks more like an overgrown ten-year-old than an upcoming senior in high school. Her hair is as disheveled as ever, with golden locks tumbling like a lion’s mane around her cheeks.
“One last lunch at Flat Iron, then let’s hit the road!
OH, BUG, WHERE ARE you?
My head hurts from staring at narrow lines of text, and the lump in my throat is fluctuating between wanting to cry from worry, or puke from the stress. Pressing my palms against my eyes, I exhale slowly, struggling to control my breaths.
Eight days now. It’s been eight days since I’ve seen Sasha. I still don’t know where she is, or why, but she started a spell the day we went down to that creek... and if I can’t reverse it, clear her name from its implications, or find some other loophole, then there will be nothing left to do but bury her body and count her soul as lost to the Shadow World.
It's her own fault, and I know I can't be responsible for her forever. Part of me even resents her for putting me through this... but she's my sister. She's all I've got.
Footsteps creak their way up the steep staircase, heavier than Nova's awkward gait. A glance at Elara shows me that she's contentedly curled up beneath the crystal I'd hung in front of the window, tail twitching idly. It must just be Atlas. Maybe
Sasha isn't all I've got, or at least, maybe she doesn't have to be.
A hopeful smile is just beginning to spread across my lips when he enters the room, and I rise to greet him. But my moment of hope is woefully short-lived.
Amber eyes meet mine with unguarded anger and fear, causing my breath to halt in my chest, and my hands tighten into quick fists against the desktop to I brace myself for his news. What could possibly have gotten worse?
"There's been another incident. The creature nearly caught Jason while he was driving his bike down one of the back roads. He was able to run it off, but he wrecked his bike while doing so."
My stomach rolls, taking precedence over the hollow feeling in my chest where my heart should be thumping.
"He's going to be okay, they've already got him stabilized, and he called me himself to let me know, so that's good." Atlas rushes on, eyes widening in alarm at my response.
I slump down to the floor, my legs weak while just a moment ago I wavered against the desk, ready to bolt over it if need be. I may not know Jason well, but if there's any chance Nova's theory is real, if that monster is really after me? No, I can't think like that. I can't take the blame for something that I did nothing to cause. Not again. Not when I could still be the next target.
"Where is he? Do you think it's okay if we go visit him?" I ask quickly, my words mumbled against my arm as I push my hair back from my face. There's got to be a decent hospital somewhere around here, Jason works there, doesn't he? I can already picture the bouquet he needs at his bedside; rhododendrons and Queen Anne's lace, for strength and safety.
Atlas is silent for just a beat too long.
"What is it? What else?"
His face is grim, resigned, and apologetic, dwarfing his height with the heaviness of his demeanor.
Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels) Page 14