“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Wren’s voice was at my ear. I stopped fighting, collapsing instead against his chest. The amulet, I realized, was clenched in my fist. My breaths were coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
“What happened?” Blaire croaked.
“She was calling to me,” I managed, half choking on air.
“Was it Rionach?” A deep crease formed between Bryna’s eyebrows. She moved closer, studying my face.
“No,” I said. Sweat dampened my brow. “It was someone else.”
“Who, lass?” Blaire asked.
“I don’t know,” I said a little harsher than I meant.
“Take it easy,” Wren’s voice was at my ear again. He lowered me back onto the couch, and pulled me against his side, smoothing strands of mussed hair back from my face. “How’d you get the amulet?”
“It was on the coffee table.”
“Impossible,” Bryna retorted. “I put the box on the nightstand before I went to bed.” She looked to her sister for affirmation and Blaire nodded.
“I heard whispering,” I said. “I came to find you but everyone was asleep. It called to me, Blaire. I found it here on the coffee table, I swear.”
A shadow of fear passed over her face then, darkening her features. “Are you absolutely certain that it wasn’t the voice of the Dark Witch?”
“I know her voice.” I remembered the feel of it, weighted with sharpness and poison. There was no allure to this voice–no pull of dark seduction. “I had a vision,” I said, recalling it now that my heart began to settle. I explained to them what I had seen and what the voice had told me. “It was the same riddle the White Witch gave me the night we became the Trinity. Do you remember?”
Blaire pursed her lips in thought. “Seek the sun when day takes up the false cloak of night,” she repeated.
“It’s an allegory,” Wren said a beat later.
“Right, I’ve got that part.” Blaire began to pace across the living room. “But for what?” She tapped her bottom lip, continuing to pace.
“If those were words spoken of the White Witch,” Bryna said, “then whoever is trying to contact you must be in league with the White Light.”
“Unless it’s a trap,” Wren said. “I’m not putting trust in anything that comes from an heirloom of pure evil.”
“You,” Blaire spun on her heel and pointed an accusing finger in Wren’s direction, “should maybe consider putting some actual clothes on, yeah?”
Wren lifted his eyebrow. I had been so caught up in what happened with the amulet that I didn’t even realize he’d been wearing nothing but boxers. My face heated and Wren stood up slowly, snickering as he headed for the hallway.
“He is rather distracting,” Bryna said.
“Yes, he is,” Blaire agreed.
I lifted my eyebrows, glancing off to the side. “What time is it anyway?”
“Just after four,” Bryna said. “I suspect none of us will be able to get back to sleep after this.” She sighed and crossed her arms.
Wren returned dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of track sweats.
“We can’t put the amulet back in the box,” Bryna decided. “If it’s moved on its own, or by whatever force, that means its power has awakened. We can’t risk it being stolen from us or manipulated by another force. I’m afraid you’re going to have to wear it.” Bryna looked at me hard, her glacial eyes seeming to penetrate my skull.
“Why should she wear it?” Wren demanded.
“Because it didn’t call to any of the rest of us,” she answered in a sharp tone.
“All the more reason for her not to wear it,” Wren snapped. His irises began to churn with the electric current of the harvest moon.
“Don’t make me get a muzzle for your pretty face.”
“Stop!” I held out both my hands and the amulet swung free from my grasp, curving down like a pendulum from my wrist. Everyone looked at me. “I feel confident in saying that the voice who called out to me wasn’t evil. Whoever she was or is–I believe that she’s trying to help. I think the White Witch wants me to find that cabin.” Even as I said it aloud, the belief seemed to take root in my core.
“It is possible,” Blaire said after a long pause, “that a talisman can be used as a sort of communication device.”
“How?” I asked, frowning.
“That’s very old magic,” Bryna said. “Talisman communication is an ancient form of scrying. A witch would have to be very powerful to find you–let alone use it to send you a message. That’s assuming the being is even a witch.”
“Can we track her somehow–find out where she’s located?”
Blaire chewed the inside of her cheek in thought. “I’m not sure. There’s a spell we can try but I’m not sure what good it will do. This form of communication is a lost form of ancient magic.”
“Of course it is.” I sighed.
“We might as well get started now. We’ve a lot to discuss,” Bryna said.
“Right then, I’ll go start the coffee.” Blaire rose and headed for the kitchen as Bryna disappeared down the hallway.
Wren was looking at me. I could sense the weight of his gaze–been sensing it since he’d pulled me back from my vision. I shifted my head, finding his eyes and the deep concern that spread through his features. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew what he was thinking. This is too dangerous. In silent response, I slipped the silver chain over my head.
“I don’t like this,” Wren said low enough so that only I could hear.
“We don’t have any other choice.”
Chapter Eight
Crash Course Lessons
A plume of dust lifted in the air as Bryna dropped a large leather-bound grimoire on the table in front of me with a bang. I coughed, batting the dust away from my nose as she stood at the head of the table. “As you must be aware,” Bryna began in a tone that would rival an esteemed college professor, “the Aurora Coven has the greatest collection of grimoires and texts that have been passed down through Supernatural history. All the knowledge you wish to acquire is now a mere fingertip’s length away. Blaire and I were fortunate to grow up in such an educational environment, and she’s brought it to my attention that you weren’t gifted with quite the equal opportunity.”
My narrowed gaze slid to Blaire who sat beside me. Her shoulder twitched in an apologetic shrug.
“No matter,” Bryna continued. “The witches of the Aurora Coven are the most privileged in all the world. Even if you had been raised among a coven, you still wouldn’t be on our level. We’ll help you as best we can, but I think it would be quite beneficial for you to start studying up on some of the material I’ve brought with me. Luiseach’s heir needs to be sharp of mind.” She beamed bright enough to cover up the patronizing implication of her words and plopped down into the chair beside me.
Wren had his back to the table, filling his mug at the counter, but I saw that his shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. I pursed my lips together to keep myself from retorting something I might later regret and met Bryna’s gaze. “So,” I cleared my throat, “what exactly do we need to do to cast this spell?”
Bryna reached for the grimoire and slid it in her direction, flipping through a couple of pages until she settled on a spell with a title written in bold, metallic ink in neat script hand: The Tracing Spell. “All magic leaves an imprint unique unto the one whom cast the spell,” Bryna said. “It’s sort of like a fingerprint–none two are alike. If we can figure out the origin of the magic that was used to bring you the message, then in theory we should be able to trace the magic to its owner.”
I nodded
slowly, hoping my expression wouldn’t betray my total lack of comprehending.
“Take off the necklace,” Bryna instructed, “and place it in the bowl, here.”
I did as I was told and dropped the amulet down into the wooden pit at the center of the table. Bryna followed along with the spell’s ingredients, adding dried herbs and spices to the mixture. She then uncapped a vial of clear liquid and poured its contents into the bowl; tendrils of purple vapor pooled over the edges, fanning across the table.
“Cool,” I breathed, watching the hypnotic smoke curl off the edge of the table.
“It’s not been tampered by Darkness,” Bryna said, studying the coils as a frown creased her brow. “Odd though… I’m not sensing any particular pattern that would help us–”
Just then the bowl cracked in half as though it had been made with the durability of an egg shell, and the liquid, as well as the amulet, spilled out onto the table as the three of us jumped. “Was that supposed to happen?” I asked.
“No,” Blaire said, jumping up to retrieve a towel. “It means it’s untraceable.”
“So now what?” Wren asked. He’d been watching in silence from the counter, arms cradled over his chest while we worked.
“I’m not quite sure,” Bryna answered him, brows still knitted. “I suppose we’ll have to do a bit more research on spells that can penetrate Old Magic.” She reached for the amulet as Blaire finished mopping up the mess and extended it to me. “Keep this on you at all times. It’s the only way to ensure its safety.”
I slid the amulet back over my head and tried to ignore Wren’s glower as he worked his jaw. “And in the meantime?”
“It’s probably best if you go about your day as you would normally. It’s important that we don’t draw any unwanted attention to our quest. As forces of the Light, it’s paramount that protecting the innocent always remains our first priority.”
I nodded and failed to stifle a yawn. Between the four of us, we’d already gone through a pot of coffee and were working on a second. It was starting to become clear that no amount of caffeine was going to improve my energy level.
Bryna leaned over and pulled a smaller textbook from her messenger bag. “I’d like you to go through this book and see if you can find anything useful related to scrying,” she said to me before turning to Wren. “If it’s all right with you, I’d really like to amplify the safety measures around your cabin. The last thing we need is for the rogue werewolves to track us here.”
“Blaire and I cast a protection spell after the Trinity’s bonding,” I informed her, “it’s similar to the Chameleon Shield so the Weres shouldn’t be able to locate us.”
“That’s all fine and well, but the cabin still needs adequate protective wards.”
I opened my mouth to reply and felt the words die in my mouth before I could come up with a retort.
“Wren?” She blinked up at him, still waiting on his permission.
“Knock yourself out,” he insisted.
“Excellent!” she said. Goddess this witch was annoying. “We’ve all work to do, so we best get to it. Call if you should need us,” Bryna said, strutting off down the hall. After I heard the door to Niall’s bedroom close, I fixed my glower on Blaire.
“What?” She feigned an innocent tone.
“Oh, I don’t know Blaire, maybe you could have warned us that your sister was going to ride in on her high horse of superiority before she got here.”
“She has a strong personality, but she means well,” Blaire said, carrying her coffee mug to the sink. “Just give her some time.”
“Time is something we don’t have in abundance at the moment,” I reminded her.
“And speaking of time,” Wren said, glancing down at his watch, “we’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on.”
I grumbled into my empty mug and scooped my new ‘extra-curricular’ magical study book off the table and stuffed it into my bag. Wren was already at the door, spinning his keys around his index finger as a smile of amusement flirted with his lips.
“Call if you should need anything,” Blaire mocked as Wren and I exited the house. I couldn’t be sure, but the echo of her laughter seemed to follow.
Her white-blonde hair looked silver under the fluorescent lighting of the classroom. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. Hailey, the werewolf from Thornwood, was standing in front of Mrs. Combs’ desk, holding a purple glittery binder against her chest. She’d handed Mrs. Combs a slip of paper and was waiting for instruction. The bell rang and Annabelle flopped down into the seat beside me.
“Who’s the blonde goddess?” she whispered, leaning over her bag as she pulled out her French book. I couldn’t answer. Instead, I watched Mrs. Combs rise from her desk chair and face the classroom.
“Bienvenue, Miss Reynolds,” Mrs. Combs greeted her. “Everyone, this is Hailey. She’s a transfer from Thornwood. Tell us, what brings you to Silver Mountain?” Mrs. Combs beamed.
“Well,” Hailey said in a painfully cheerful tone, “my aunt recently accepted the new secretary position and couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful the school was. I’m looking forward to the academic challenge and joining a sports team or two.”
“Oh that’s most excellent! Your aunt is just lovely. We’re so lucky to have her join our faculty.” Mrs. Combs turned and faced the rest of us. “I hope you all will do your part in welcoming Miss. Reynolds to our school. Go Foxes!” She giggled emphatically, raising a fist in the air in a “go-get-’em” display that made my stomach roll with nausea. “Hailey dear, go ahead and sit by Courtney.” She pointed to the open seat closest to the shelves on the far wall.
Courtney, having spotted a kindred spirit, waved her over with a smile. I watched Hailey glide across the room with confidence that only a Were could pull off.
“Is that–” Annabelle started to speak, but I jammed the corner of my book into her forearm. Thanks to Mrs. Combs partnering program, all our desks were pushed together in twos to make it easier to work on group assignments.
I took out my notebook and scrawled: Superhearing. I tilted the page so she could read that it wasn’t safe to talk right now.
Wren and I had picked Annabelle up for school that morning and told her what happened while we were in Thornwood. She understood the threat of what Hailey’s presence meant for us, and I watched as goosebumps prickled her forearms. So much for three days, I thought disdainfully. Thornwood was already encroaching on our territory and I had a feeling Hailey was here on a reconnaissance mission.
I needed to talk to Wren.
When the dismissal bell finally rang, I jumped up from my seat and packed away my belongings with haste. Annabelle and I had lunch together, but I knew Wren had AP physics next period and if I hurried, I could catch him before class started.
“Save me a seat?” I asked Annabelle.
“Sure,” she said.
I darted out of the classroom and took the stair steps two at a time as I jogged to the main level and passed through the lobby. I turned the corner and almost smacked into Wren’s chest as he strolled out of his government class. He looked down at me and grinned. He knew I’d be there. His superior senses alerted him of my presence long before I arrived, but when he really looked at my face, his smile turned into a frown.
“We have a problem,” I said.
“What is it?”
“Hailey,” I said. “She was in my French class. I think she’s transferred.”
The muscle in Wren’s jaw worked over the bone. He stayed quiet, his eyes fixed distantly as he worked over the issue in his mind. The tendons in his forearm began to twitch. I reached out, covering his arm with my palm.
“All right,” Wren’s voice was rough and quiet, “just be on guard. We can’t afford any slip-ups as far as the Trinity is concerned. We knew Thornwood meant business, so we’re just going to have to play this smart.”
“Do you think Ryker sent her here as bait?”
“Probably, but his intentions are futile. It’s not going to work on me.” Wren cupped my chin, fingertips lifting so that my gaze was locked on his. “I need you to be careful, okay?”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”
The bell rang and the hallway thinned as students scurried into their classrooms. “Talk later?”
I nodded and watched him slip out of view. The smell of food drifted from the cafeteria and my stomach twisted in a way that turned hunger into sickness. I couldn’t even think about eating. I turned back for the lobby and excused myself to the ladies’ room. I was overcome by the powerful scent of bleach but at least it was quiet there–save for the sound of running pipes. I turned on the hot water, which only ever reached a lukewarm temperature and held my hands under the running faucet.
The Dark Witch’s amulet caught the light and gleamed in the reflection of the mirror. The stone was about two inches in length; solid, but I barely felt the weight of it against my skin. It was strange–wearing something that belonged to the ultimate mistress of evil and knowing what it had been used for. I reached up, grasping the stone between my thumb and index finger, turning it until the milky blue sheen caught the light.
‘Its power has awakened,’ Bryna had said. I wondered, leaning closer to the mirror, what that meant… The sound of distant musical laughter filled my head and I blinked, stepping back from the mirror as something caught my peripheral. Hailey was standing in the doorway.
The Calling of the Trinity (Trinity Cycle Book 2) Page 9