The Witch's Complement

by Elle Beauregard

  “Hey. Long time no see.”

  Cecily turned to find Trevor walking beside her. She fished her headphones from her pocket and slipped them into her ears so she could talk freely without anybody thinking she was cracked as she walked down the sidewalk having a conversation with somebody no one else could see. They’d see the headphones and assume she was on the phone. Which was good because she had some serious shit to discuss today. “Hey. We’ve been busy and at home a lot. Anything new?”

  They came up to an intersection and she paused with Rhia beside her while she looked both ways and then kept walking.

  “Not really,” Trey replied. “Oh, except Bridgette is pretty sure Wren has met somebody.”

  “Is her name Abby?” Big surprise.

  “I think so, yeah. She works with Scott.”

  “Yep. She’s great. They’re adorable together.” She threw a glance at Trey, beside her. “How’s Bridgette taking it?”

  “Completely fine,” Trevor replied easily.

  That was good. It was hard enough to move on after you lost the person you thought was the love of your life—Cecily knew that from experience. Knowing Trevor was happy for her when she and Scott had gotten together had stung for a second, but really, it had been a soothing balm on her frayed nerves. She hoped it felt that way to Wren, too.

  “Speaking of which, where is Bridgette?” Cecily asked. Bridge and Trevor normally came in pairs these days.

  “She’s hanging out with her mom.”

  Cecily had to smile at such a run-of-the-mill answer.

  Rhia hung a right and Cecily followed because it was the turn they normally took.

  “It seems like you and Bridge like spending time together.” She wasn’t sure if spirits could fall in love, per se, but she liked the idea of Trey and Bridgette as a unit in some small way.

  “She’s great,” he replied. “I like having her around. Now are you going to stop avoiding the elephant in the—well, we aren’t in a room, but you get me.”

  Cecily threw him another glance. His brows were high, eyes wide with expectation.

  He knew.

  She groaned. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “Figure what out?”

  She stopped walking and looked at him, watching while his put-on innocent expression turned into a smirk, then a smile, before he groaned through a laugh. “I didn’t follow you into the doctor’s office, I swear.”

  Cecily felt her brows furrow, then her eyes go wide. She started walking again when Rhia huffed a sigh. “If you didn’t follow me, how do you know I’ve been to the doctor?” They had an agreement: Trey didn’t interfere in personal stuff. No snooping on conversations between she and Scott; no following her into bathrooms, or dressing rooms—or doctors’ offices!

  “I saw you and Scott,” he explained. “I was gonna say hi, but you looked stressed, so I hung back. Then I realized you were at the hospital, and I got worried. Plus your light is all different, now.”

  “I thought you couldn’t feel worry on that side.” She regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth. She waved her hand and shook her head. “Forget I said that. What do you mean my light is different?” Maybe the spell had reduced the dim static effect he and Bridgette had told Callum about.

  “That day,” he explained, “and since then. It’s like two lights, overlapped.”

  “You told Callum we were dim.” That didn’t make sense.

  “I told him the energy was scratchy,” Trey corrected. “And it was—still is—but I can see your light through it, and it’s new. Like there’s two of you...”

  When she looked at him again, his expression had turned softer. A smile was trying to play on his semi-opaque lips, but he was doing his best to downplay it, even while his expression was questioning—and oddly hopeful.

  Cecily drew a breath. She held it, her gaze straight ahead, watching the newly blossoming trees that lined the sidewalk for a few steps before she let the breath out on a whoosh and swung her eyes up to meet his again. Why was this hard to say to him? She decided it was because nearly every other time she’d told somebody this, they’d freaked out on her. “I’m preg—”

  “Cecily!”

  Interrupted, she turned around—and immediately turned back and started walking again.

  “Holy shit, is that your dad?”

  That was another thing she hadn’t updated Trevor on just yet. “More or less, yeah.”

  “And we don’t want to talk to him, I take it?”

  “We definitely do not.”

  A gray SUV rolled up alongside her and she picked up the pace. But it wasn’t like she was going to outrun a car. Even if she took off at a sprint, she wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

  “You need a ride?” Marcus was leaning across the center console and talking through the open, passenger-side window.

  “No, I’m good,” Cecily replied, smiling. “Just walking my dog before work. I really don’t have time to talk.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve been trying to text you again.”

  “Oh, that’s weird, I haven’t gotten any.” She looked down the block. She was at the midpoint in the walk—as far from the house as she was close to it. “Look, I really gotta get going. I’ll text you next time, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah okay.”

  “See ya around.” She walked on, keeping her eyes front and center.

  “That dude is fucked up,” Trevor remarked.

  “No shit,” Cecily breathed. “Just stay by me, okay?”

  “What the hell is going on, Cissy?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  The sound of a car door slamming brought her head around—Marcus was already on her, his face a mask of fury. He slapped something over her mouth and nose that smelled like gasoline and rubbing alcohol.

  And spaghetti sauce?

  That was the last thought she had, other than recognizing the sound of Rhia’s barks as her lights went out.

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  Abby shot out of a deep sleep at 100 miles per hour—unconscious to wide awake.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Behind her, Wren made a soft, peaceful noise, then an out of rhythm, sharp inhale.

  Abby rolled over. “Wren, wake-up.”

  “I’m awake. Something’s weird.”

  They’d spent yesterday afternoon having sex. And last night, too. They’d stopped to order delivery-Chinese food, and Wren had fingered her into another orgasm while they waited for it to arrive. They’d worn T-shirts to eat dinner in bed—chow mein falling on bare tits just wasn’t something either of them were in to, go figure—then they’d taken them off and gotten right back business.

  It was easily the single best night Abby could remember.

  Now, however, her heart was pounding, and her skin was crawling in a very something-isn’t-right kind of way.

  “I think it’s the spell,” Abby said as she started looking around for her clothes, or at least the tee she’d worn while she ate last night. “Text Zander and make sure they’re all okay.”

  “Already on it.”

  This wasn’t good. She’d never felt anything like this before, so she couldn’t be sure, but her instincts were telling her someone in that house was in trouble.

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  The time of day meant traffic was blessedly and unusually light, so Zander let her little car fly down the freeway. She’d bought the car as soon as she moved back to Seattle—a black Volkswagen GTI she’d been dreaming of since she got her license—but due to the traffic in and around the city she rarely got to really use it. She checked her speed and eased off the accelerator when she realized she was speeding by everyone else in the other lanes.

  In the passenger seat, Callum chuckled.

  “How often are the freeways this clear?” she remarked with a smile.

  “I wasn’t stopping you.”

  Wren had texted yesterday afternoon after she and Abby had left, saying they wanted to re
cast the spell in a few days and asking if she owned anything of Marcus’s. Which was a fair question—and a big, fat nope. Zander had asked Cecily, who likewise didn’t own a damn thing that had once belonged to their dad-not-dad. Which wasn’t any big surprise. It’s not like either of them looked on their relationship with the guy fondly, even before they learned about him not being their actual, biological father. Neither of them had held on to any possessions that had once been his.

  But, Alyssa had. Natch.

  Zander had texted her on a Hail Mary she hadn’t expected to pan out, but sure enough, Alyssa had responded with Yeah. I have a pen he gave me for high school graduation. It used to be his.

  It was one hundred percent more than either she or Cecily had, so Zander had taken the morning off from work so she could go pick-up this pen from Alyssa.

  What do you need it for? Alyssa had asked.

  Zander hadn’t answered that. If she explained over text message, or even the phone, it would be too easy for Alyssa to misunderstand—or, worse, refuse to give the thing to her.

  “You think she’s gonna freak when you say we need her pen for a spell to protect us from the man who gave it to her?” Callum asked as she took the exit ramp.

  “Possibly.” Zander rolled to a stop at the light at the end of the ramp. Alyssa lived in West Seattle, which was a pain in the ass to get to during rush hour, but only a quick drive away this time of day. “But that’s why I’m going to keep the spell part light and basic.” Like, maybe she wouldn’t mention it at all if she could get away with it.

  A few minutes later, they pulled into an unusually good parking spot along the street right in front of Alyssa’s apartment building.

  “Now if that’s not a sign from the universe that you’re in the right place, I don’t know what is,” Callum remarked.

  Zander searched the list at the front door and entered the code to dial Alyssa’s unit. A moment later, the door buzzed and clicked, and Zander pushed it open with her stomach in her throat and Callum on her heels.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Alyssa stepped aside and invited the two of them in with the swing of her arm only a second after Zander knocked on her door. She was wearing an expensive-looking pair of black and gray leggings and a deep magenta sweatshirt with cut-outs in the shoulders. Her highlighted hair was pulled into a long ponytail on the back of her head, the ends curled. “You’re lucky I’m working from home today.”

  Yet another sign from the universe that she was on the right path.

  “I need to borrow the pen Marcus gave you,” she said.

  “Yeah, you said that in your text message,” Alyssa replied. “But you didn’t say why.”

  “Does it matter? We won’t hurt it or anything.” At least she didn’t think so.

  Alyssa crossed her arms over her chest. “Sort of. It’s my favorite pen. And why are you being weird about it?”

  Zander felt herself sneer. A pen Marcus had given her was her favorite pen? Yuck.

  Callum spoke up before Zander had to craft a non-judgey response—thank the universe. “Marcus has been trying to contact Cecily—”

  Zander’s phone pinged out a text message and she pulled it from her back pocket to read while Callum attempted to explain, using as few references to magic as possible, why they needed Marcus’s belonging in order to get him to stop making contact with Cecily.

  It was a text from Wren. Are all of you accounted for? We got a weird vibe.

  Huh? But before she could answer, Zander’s phone started ringing in her hand with a call from Scott. She glanced at Alyssa and Callum who had both abandoned the conversation after so many ringtones from Zander’s phone in close succession. “Sorry, one sec.” She brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Scott, what’s up?”

  Callum’s brows furrowed in question.

  “Is Cecily with you?” he sounded intense.

  “No, we just got to Alyssa’s. What’s wrong?”

  “I ran to the store real quick,” he sounded damn near frantic now. “When I got home, Rhia was in the front yard and nobody was home.”

  What the hell? “Have you tried her cell?”

  “She’s not answering.”

  Shit.

  Wren’s text message ran through her mind. Are all of you accounted for? Apparently not.

  “Okay, don’t panic. There’s probably a reasonable explanation—”

  Alyssa and Callum had stepped closer, as though called by Zander’s own rising panic.

  “Like what?” Scott challenged, tone clipped. “Why would she leash Rhia up, then leave without her?”

  Okay, when he said it, that sounded really bad. Zander’s mind started to race. “Just, hold tight, okay? Cal and I are headed back now.” Fuck the pen, it could wait until they found Cecily.

  She ended the call. “Scott ran to the store and while he was gone, it looks like Cecily left with Rhia but didn’t come back—”

  “What?” Alyssa’s eyes were wide and intense.

  Zander ticked a nod at Callum. “We gotta go. Scott is freaking out.” Not that it wasn’t warranted. Zander had to admit, the more she sat with it, the worse she felt about what Scott had described.

  Callum headed for the door.

  “I’m going with you,” came Alyssa’s determined voice.

  Zander, who’d been following Cal to the door, turned back. “You don’t have to do that.” Really, she didn’t. Alyssa hated everything that had to do with spirits and magic. Okay, maybe “hated” was a bit too strong, but she sure as shit didn’t like it. And, sure, maybe this had nothing to do with magic, but Wren was involved—she was the first one to know something was wrong—so they were most definitely going to use magic to find her, and Zander didn’t have the bandwidth to shelter Alyssa’s delicate, easily-spooked sensibilities while she tried to find their sister.

  They had this under control. Most likely.

  “Well, I’m coming, so deal.” Alyssa opened the closet by the door and snatched her purse from within it. “I might not know shit about magic or spirits, but if you think Cecily is in trouble, I’m fucking there.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Scott wanted to scream. And maybe break something.

  Beside him, Rhia was a quiet sentinel, her icy eyes trained on Wren and Abby the same way his were. They were sitting on the floor in the living room, knees and hands together, eyes closed, trying to find Cecily.

  The two of them had arrived at the house before Zander and Callum had even made it back with Alyssa in tow. He hadn’t called them, so he’d been confused to see them pull into the driveway in Wren’s hatchback while he sat on the front steps hoping to see Cecily come down the sidewalk with every next blink.

  Where the hell was she? And why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  Rhia had been frantic when he arrived home, barking in these short, staccato yips he’d never heard before and stepping in place, looking down the block while her leash dragged on the ground by her paws. At first, he’d thought Cecily was about to take her for a walk. Maybe Rhia was just really excited about it? But when he’d gone into the house, it was empty. He’d known she wasn’t there before he called her name. Before he checked their room, all three bathrooms, the backyard, and the kitchen.

  Had she been hurt? Was she wondering where he was? Was she crying?

  Was she safe? Was the baby okay?

  Was he a horrible father before he’d even met the kid for thinking that he’d accept the loss of the baby if it meant Cecily came out of this alright?

  Callum came in through the front door. He’d left to walk the block the way they always took Rhia in case Cecily had been hurt and one of the neighbors might have seen something. In the back of Scott’s mind, he recognized a foolish hope he’d been holding on to that Callum would bring Cecily home with him, but as Cal’s gaze met Scott’s, he was alone and his eyes were bleak.

  He lifted his hand—holding Cecily’s phone. “It was on the sidewalk.”

  Alyssa appeared b
eside him. She took the phone from his hand and inspected it. “It’s hers.” She looked to Cal, then to Scott. “I called all of the local ERs—she’s not there.”

  Oh god, no.

  “I gotta—” Scott didn’t finish the sentence, just up and left the room. He had to get out of this house, otherwise he might tear the whole fucking thing down.

  Across the dining room on long strides, he made a beeline straight for the back door. Yanking it open, he didn’t stop until he was breathing fresh air, with grass beneath his bare feet.

  It didn’t help.

  In fact, the warm, sunny air made it worse. Like proof that the rest of the world didn’t give a fuck that everything in his was coming apart at the seams.

  A set of flowerpots sat on the edge of the deck, the cheery yellow, pink, orange, and red flowers Zander had planted smiling at him with so much fuck-you.

  He snatched a golf club from the grass at his feet. The flowerpots exploded when he hit them. Dirt and pottery, flower petals and leaves burst like fireworks as the club made contact with the pots one after another in a sweeping arc while he yelled. He threw the golf club with one final bark of a shout.

  Then the tears came.

  Punching out of his chest, the sobs racked him, bowing his shoulders, rocking him on his feet until he had to catch himself with a hand on the railing. He arched up as he gasped and another sob choked him, the back of his hand coming to his mouth when he thought he might be sick.

  How could this be happening?

  Every minute that passed felt like another minute closer to losing her for good.

  And if Cecily was gone—what then?

  A scream shot up his throat but he clapped his hands over his mouth and forced himself to draw a breath.

  He was shaking, his breath shuddering, but he forced himself to exhale and draw another. And another. Until he thought he could lower his hands without risk of screaming or puking.

  He swiped away the tears that rimmed his eyes and the few that had fallen onto his cheeks.

  “Hey.” Callum stepped onto the grass.

  Scott shook his head, unable to look at his brother. “I can’t lose her.”

  “Of course not.” He stayed a few steps away like he knew Scott needed space. “No fucking way we’re letting that happen.”