Still, sitting in this squalor, waiting for a miracle, and an attack, I can't deny that this is my new family. My sister, my infuriating cousin, and a man I don't want to imagine the world without. I love them all.
"Something's happening," Andromeda interrupts, and I sit up taller, letting Atlas' arms fall behind me.
The mirror is trembling, as if it were at the epicenter of a burgeoning earthquake, then with horror, I realize that may very well be the case.
"Witchcraft sets off-" I start at the same time Atlas gasps, "-the fault lines!"
The world moves beneath our feet, and Sasha tumbles off the couch, rousing with Andromeda's cries of panic. As old and decrepit as the building is, I know it could come down in seconds, but as I twist my head to the ceiling, I realize that's a concern that will have to wait.
Large paws approach my side, and fiery eyes examine me with hungry longing. I try to edge back, but the ground is shaking too much to make a difference, and in my desperation, I sweep my arms across the floor, for something to hold. Something to save me.
My hand hits the handle of a pocketknife, and I throw it at the sidhe, aiming it the way I would a dart, and hoping for the best. As the blade grazes the black bristled coat, an angry scream cuts through the air, and adds to the chaos. Its pained distraction gives me a moment to glance at the others and scoot myself as close to Andromeda as I can.
Sasha sits where she fell, and from my peripheral, I'm grateful to see Atlas trying to pull her from harm's way. Her eyes are glazed, and she shows no distress to the events unfolding about her, or any resistance to being moved. Whatever she was before, Sasha is nothing but a shell now.
Elara and Kamali fall onto the larger beast, and they crash into the already splintering wall, causing a window to shatter, and let in a spray of rain from a world gone crazy. Atlas drags Sasha beneath a table, and then attempts to make his way back to me, single-minded determination leaving him open to greater dangers.
Too late, I remember the hagstone, and as I place it to my eye, the looming threats are already too close to escape.
The dead woman is shoving Atlas off balance, helping the trembling keep him low to the ground. Her teeth are bared in an angry grimace, and my stomach turns as I realize they're black with congealed blood and decay. The symbols that wind their way down his arms are burning as bright as the sun, and it's only those spells that are keeping him alive.
"I warned you," she shouts across the room. "Now you know what that thing is, but you're still willing to let it take you?!"
She's talking about the sidhe, and its taste for souls. Without me even mentioning my intentions to the others, she knows. The sidhe would never leave them alone, if at least one soul wasn't sacrificed to satisfy that hunger.
"Why should I let him help you? Why should I let your precious little sister go? She made a poor deal, same as I did. Why should I suffer, and let her go free?"
"Why are you doing this?" I scream over the cacophony. "I thought you were warning me before, why are you helping it now?"
"You were supposed to bring me back! Me, not that insipid little brat! The sidhe keeps me here as bait. Do you know how many witches I've seen her devour? How many covens have come to an end once the Mage's Council decided to steal their magic during her feast?"
Bile raises to the back of my throat, and I have to breathe in deeply to avoid getting sick. It was all connected from the beginning. The Council wasn't prejudiced against witches for causing trouble. They framed the witches and sacrificed them for their powers. Atlas thought they'd all left town, but I doubt any of them survived that long.
I turn my head quickly towards Sasha, wondering why she was still alive when the mortals didn't even know of her presence. Andromeda is working over the mirror, trying to make her whole once more.
The answer is plain to see as soon my eyes land on her frantic form. By waiting for us to come looking for Sasha, they gained two more victims. They like bait.
Thinking fast, I try to appease her, to stop her from killing Atlas in her fury. "Then how do I release you?"
"Defeat the sidhe. I'm tied to her, and her alone. If she's killed, my soul goes free, and I've been ready to pass to the Other Realm for decades."
It's an impossible task, but I nod anyway. Anything to keep at least one of my worries at bay.
A gruesome smile spreads across her decaying face, and a maggot drips from a cut on her lips, landing on the heaving floor and fading with the contact. "Then I'll help."
Both Andromeda and Atlas are oblivious to the exchange, and I barely have time to wonder why that is, when I'm pulled out of my body.
I watch from above as Atlas reaches my fallen form and tries in vain to pull me back to the table he'd left Sasha at. My head rolls limply from one side to the next, and with dismay, I realize my face is turning grey.
My tether to Sasha remains untouched, and in just a few minutes she'll be back to normal... because her debt to Shadow World will be paid. A soul for a soul.
If I can anchor my being here long enough, the sidhe will no doubt devour me and hopefully, let them go. But if I do that, then they'll have a pissed off ghost to contend with.
Even if I can manage to stop both of those threats with no body or magic, they'll still have to fight The Council.
"Don't look so sick," a woman beside me says. "I told you I'd help, didn't I? You look like you've lost all your steam. Don't you know you carry your talent with you? I bet you still have a few flames to throw at the banshee."
From this side of The Veil, the other witch is whole, her eyes are a gentle brown, her skin is free from claw marks, and all signs of decay have vanished. If I've reached this side, that means I should be able to see...
"Tania!" Slender arms wrap around my neck, and this is the sister I remember. "Tania, you need to go back! Why didn't you break the charm? You'll be stuck here!"
"I don't care. You're worth it," I insist, knowing this could be the last time we ever talk.
The woman beside us interrupts in alarm. "Nobody is worth it. You'll lose yourself, become corrupted. Look at me, I nearly just killed your man. You don't want to become that."
"Then let's kill the thing holding you here," I respond, turning my attention to the sidhe.
Where once stood a cat is a hag, towering over the two familiars that tear at her torso. More disturbing than the rotting form of the spirit next to me, the sidhe is a banshee in her true form.
Her mouth is unhinged, baring razor-sharp teeth that snap between screams. Her skin is leathery, loose, and covered in the names of her victims. The only spot of light on her entire being is a cage she wears upon her neck, the remnants of her prior feasts proudly displayed as trophies. Now I know why Andromeda went into shock upon seeing her. The hagstone must have shown her this truth.
One shoulder is already ripped from where I threw Atlas' knife, and the gouges from our previous battle are there as well. I'd imagined facing death would be an impossible task, but it turns out that being half dead is a quick mind changer. With assailants on both sides of the Veil, I'm betting on an even chance.
The earth is beginning to calm, and my companions call forth snakes and vines to entrap the sidhe as the cats aim for her jugular. Andromeda's hands fly over the mirror, and I work to ignore her, knowing the finished spell will result in my total death.
Screeching tears through the air as the banshee weakens, and with pride, I watch Atlas focus his crossbow on the cage about her neck. The white spot of fur on the beast.
Dragging as much as my energy as I can into my palms, I add my flames to the iron he releases with the trigger, and then I fall.
Slamming back into my body is like flying through a windshield. Painful, disorienting, and full of the promise of demise. Screams still ring in my ears, but a tower of flames covers the western wall of the room. The sidhe is in the center, burning and writhing in the inferno.
Confusion overtakes me, as Sasha grabs my hand, and I realize that we're bo
th alive, and firmly cemented in the living world. Atlas kneels before us, crossbow still in his arms, and the cats fall back.
It's not until Kamali limps back yowling that sacrifice becomes a reality. Andromeda lays lifeless besides the flames, the mirror shattered beneath her body. Her long hair is spread in a snarled mess over her face, and her hand is still outstretched, fallen where she'd thrown the succulent into the fire. I throw myself on her and desperately search for any sign of life; movement, breathing, just the slightest pulse. But she's gone.
The price was a soul for a soul, and Andromeda paid it herself.
My ears continue to ring with screaming, and slowly it occurs to me that I'm the one making the sound. Atlas drags me from the room, his face shocked and covered in pain as he throws me over his shoulder and follows Elara through the crumbling house.
Sasha stumbles after us, her wide eyes dancing in the flickering light. Kamali stays behind, curling up as though for a nap. I watch it all from my place in Atlas' arms, and the only image I can hold in my head are those simple white flowers.
They promised so much, but it just wasn't enough in the end.
Epilogue
"THEY'RE NEVER GOING to forgive me," Sasha grumbles from beside me on the couch. The cushions are just as worn as before, and the smell of soil is permanently present, despite the diminished size of our traveling garden. Three people in an RV, and the amount of times Atlas knocked his head against one of the hanging flowerpots made downsizing a necessary change.
"Sure, they will. They’ve already exonerated us for both the business in Seguin, and everything in Hildrun.” It turns out taking down a sidhe and toppling decades of corruption and murder cancelled out our wrongdoings in the eyes of The Coven.
“Being cleared of charges isn’t the same thing as being forgiven. Andromeda is dead, Tania. It’s my fault,” she argues, and my stomach drops. We’ve come a long way in our differences, but this is one argument that never fades away.
“You were trying to save Robert; it just went wrong... and I was trying to save you. Andromeda just decided to do the same for me. We can’t blame ourselves for that.” These are the words that I tell her nearly every day. They’re the same words I tell myself every night as I’m drifting off to sleep. I’m still not sure I believe them, though I desperately wish I could.
The truth is, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the cost of her sacrifice. Watching Sasha grieve, I know that’s something we will both dedicate our days to.
For better or worse, we’re sisters. We’re chaotic and dysfunctional, and I’m not always sure whether the magic that flows through our veins is more light than dark, but I know we’re good. We are part of the Tempest Coven, and we know the world is more than black and white. Like the color of our eyes, this world is full of grey. It’s just up to us to try and reflect the light.
Atlas offers me his hand and pulls me up. “You ready for this?”
After six months of wandering, laying low while Jason tried to rectify things in Hildrun, and exchanging correspondence with the Coven, it’s finally time for us to build a new home. But I just can’t bear to do that before facing my aunt and uncle first. If there’s anything in this life that makes sense to me, it’s that family matters.
“I’m never going to be ready. But I’ve got you at my side, so I know it’s going to be okay.” He kisses me when I stand and takes my hand firmly in his own. The future is unclear when it comes to him as well, but I’ve given up on scrying, so that really doesn’t matter. I have him here, and now, and that’s more than enough for me.
Reaching behind me, I tug on Sasha’s sleeve to urge her to follow, and we step out into the cold. Waiting in the snow is more than I bargained for, but our mother stands with tears in her eyes and regret on her face.
I used to think I was damned, but now each reckoning seems like a chance for transformation. I guess that’s the difference between hope and despair, but Andromeda had hope for us, so I’ll trust in hers.
Also by Wendolyn Baird
Cruelly by VB Gilbert
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1MSKWM/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_kgmNFbE91N483
October Darlings
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D746SC8/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_mimNFbQQ73TTA
Continue reading for a sneak peek into October Darlings
October Darlings
Excerpt from chapter three
Cell phone signal, non-existent. Chance of scaling the iron gate, slim. Am I in any actual danger? No, not unless this is the beginning of more strange and possibly more terrifying flukes in architecture.
So, I’m stuck in the backyard, big deal. So, what if I feel like my throat is so dry even drawing air is difficult? So, what if the yard is filled with dead bodies and a scorpion covered gate? This was my playground as a kid, and I was perfectly fine then. I don’t have to study the graves too closely, and it’s the middle of the day, what’s the worst that can happen? Delia will be back in just a few minutes.
A rustle at my back stops me dead in my tracks. The breeze is filled with a sudden burst of trodden mint, and the chill wrapping around my neck settles on me with the sensation of being watched. Beyond the fence, the tree line is still, and there’s no sign of another person anywhere in sight. But my breath halts in my throat as the sensation grows worse.
Well crap, I just had to ask that question, didn’t I?
Narrowing my eyes, I scan the spaces between the stones and step back until my back is pressed against the iron bars. My gaze passes over the oldest markers easily, acknowledging each sloping edge or weather worn slab with the familiarity of seeing their counterparts hung on the walls. Their names are harder to recall, but I know the two headstones with cherubic angels grinning side by side are the sisters whose portrait was taken with the family terrier. A few feet away from them lies the stern couple who peer down from beside my bedroom door. Their markers are a faint blue and nestled on either side of a tilted flower holder jutting up from the ground.
Every grave, another face. Another shadow, another Nix leaving their imprint on the everlasting house. I don’t remember their names, but I know my family. I know I belong to them, because I can see it in my jawline, the wide set of my eyes, and even the shape of my hands.
I shake off the shiver trickling through my veins and keep my focus far away from the front right corner of the cemetery. I belong to her more than anyone else, but that’s one name I'm not ready to face in stone.
Delia can’t make me.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in through my nose and try to shake off the panic building in my chest. It was a terrible idea to come out here.
The quick, shaking noise of keys being swung in someone’s hand tears through the silence of the graveyard. My heart skips and bolts even faster, sending rapid waves of adrenaline into my limbs with the force of a tsunami. Again, I glance around, searching for whoever’s watching me, because someone definitely is. The smell of mint is undeniably sweet now, so close to me I would swear the person was right next to me trampling the leaves, if not for the blank space stretching on as wide as I can see.
That’s it, I’m out of here, one way or another.
Slipping my camera through the bars of the gate, I set it safely on the other side before kicking my foot into the rosemary and praying the branches can hold my weight. The scratching of the plant at my shins is a welcome distraction to the block of ice working its way down my spine, as even the sun seems to have lost its warmth. My hand slips, leaving red marks across my palm, but I pull myself up and try again. Of course, the plant is no use!
As my cheek brushes against the fence the glowing, white eyes of the stationary scorpions beside me gleam with fiery colors so familiar, I must have seen them before. My soles slide uselessly against the narrow bars, and I’m stuck peering at a cluster of the carvings while my fingers scramble for a stronghold above my head.
While I climb, the intermittent jingle of keys continues on, unmistakabl
e as the sound is familiar. My throat tightens as I connect it with the smell of my grandmother’s perfume in the hallway, and the memory of my grandfather twirling his keys as he walked about whistling to himself. I swear, if I start hallucinating whistling, I’m going to scream.
“For heaven’s sake! I said to stop being so stubborn, not to scale the fence!” Delia is rushing downhill, books in hand and a rare glimpse of surprise on her face. “Get down from there before you break something!”
At the sound of her voice, I shriek anyway— no whistling necessary. My shoulders lock up, and my right foot is still caught in a tangle of branches. Clinging to the top of the rail, I’m likely to lose my grip and fall before she even reaches the fence.
“I can’t!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Trust me, I really wish I was!” I whimper more than anything, feeling as pitiful as I look.
Delia struggles with the gate, yanking on the bars with one hand, then two, leaving her photo albums scattered on the ground. As she works, the vibrations move my section of the fence as well, and I squeeze my eyes tight in terror. If I fall, I don’t want to watch the ground coming at me.
“Will one of y’all help me out here before I have to explain to Jordan why his daughter has a broken neck?!” Delia yells, with more agitation than worry, but at her words, the entrance creaks open.
Rushing to my side, she frees my foot just as my palms slip from their places, and we both end up slamming onto our backs, Aunt Delia cushioning my fall.
Cursing, muttering, and apologizing to one another, it’s another moment before I can spit the hair out of my mouth and look her square in the face.
“Who were you talking to this time?” I demand. “And don’t you dare shrug it off as ‘The House’ because we’re not even in the house, we’re outside.”
My shoulder blades ache, my skin is slick and clammy, and my reddened hands are numb from lack of circulation. Despite all this, leftover adrenaline is lending me a hell of a glare, and Delia finally falters beneath my direct questioning.
Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels) Page 20