Chapter 11

Twenty awkward and uneasy minutes later, we were steps from the house Vivienne and Lorelei called home. The renovations were almost complete, and the entire house vacant.

“We have to do this…”

Abby was working hard to convince herself, even though her feet didn’t budge.

Vivienne mentioned they weren’t moving home until this evening, and that she would be here in a little more than an hour. Searching Lorelei’s room seemed like the easiest way to begin Abby’s crackpot plan of finding Peterson.

“Look, Lorelei most likely has info about this guy. And her room is the logical place to find it.”

“I know, but it seems wrong, breaking in…” Abby hesitated.

“Seriously, you pick now to decide not to cross a moral line? Blackmail, truancy, and aiding and abetting a known witch-felon were just enough naughty for you?”

I circled around to the back of the house. The window to the kitchen was easy enough to pry open and large enough to crawl through. Abby followed, her slender form slipping easily through the opening, and she slid down off the counter with ease. She pushed the frayed strands of her jet-black hair across her forehead and scowled in my direction. With her dark skin, wide, round eyes, and expressive face, she was pretty for a human…even with that perpetual frown.

“See? Easy.” I dusted my hands. “You know this house better than I do, so lead the way.”

She scowled as she moved past me, heading for the staircase. “For the record, I hate having to ask you, of all people, for help.”

My gaze landed on the tea canister. The one I’d laced with a poison meant to end my mother’s life. My stomach twisted. “I get the sense you hate asking anyone for help,” I said, pushing away the memory, as I took the steps two at a time. “You have that independent, I can do it all on my own vibe about you. Another human with a Wonder Woman complex.”

She ignored me and we entered Lorelei’s bedroom. As she flicked on the lights, she made eye contact. “Don’t make me regret telling you about all of this.”

“About what?”

“Peterson. You didn’t know about any of this. So, I’m guessing Lorelei didn’t trust you with much of anything, did she?”

“No. She didn’t. But Adrius did.” I lifted my chin. “He mentioned something about a guy. A human who claimed he could suck out a person’s magical powers like drawing pus from an infection.”

“Nice. Well, that’s exactly what they want to do. Only I don’t think they’re asking for permission anymore.” She pointed to the closet. “You start looking in there. I’ll start with her desk.”

I moved toward the double doors, then paused. “How do you know all of this witchery business anyway?”

“Because my mother and Davin’s mother—”

“Witches.” I knew there was something about that woman when we met. I wonder if she sensed it too. A practicing witch worth her craft might have seen through my glamour, as Abby had.

“They’ve been meeting to discuss what’s happening.”

“And you attend these meetings?”

“I wasn’t invited. She doesn’t exactly know I’m practicing all of this.”

Of course not. “Tell me something. Why do you people treat magic like a dirty little family secret? You flock to mystic fairs and bookshops to buy talismans, crystals, and tarot cards and hide everything under your beds. And closet Wiccans practice their beliefs behind closed door like it’s some sort of crime. Where I come from, it’s something to be proud of, envied. It’s a gift, not a curse.”

She rummaged through another drawer, sparing a glance over her shoulder in my direction. “Well, not all humans see it that way. In fact, history books are filled with instances where they didn’t see it that way. Hangings, beheadings, and countless witches burned at the stake just on mere suspicion of witchcraft... Kinda makes people cautious, you know?”

“That was centuries ago in your time.” I slid open the closet doors and flicked through Lorelei’s clothes. She had appalling taste, in everything but boys, but at least she accepted who she was.

Abby open and closed several more bureau drawers. “The hatred hasn’t lessened as much as you’d think. Peterson belongs to an organization that’s working to eradicate all witchcraft. And not just witches. Any magical being will be wiped from the planet. We can’t let that happen. I owe it to Lorelei and Adrius and even—”

I raised my brows waiting for her to finish, then lightning struck. “Zanthiel.” I nodded. “I forgot you two had a thing.”

“It was hardly a thing. It was more of a thinglet if you want to be accurate. And yes, him, too. Because regardless of how I feel about you, not everyone deserves to have a part of them stripped away without permission.”

“So how do you think I can help you? If you’re planning to free me from my magical suppressor, you should know Zanthiel may or may not have built in a failsafe that might end my life if the Shaqua band is removed.”

She smiled a little. “Really? Are you sure?”

“No. Nor do I plan on taking the chance. But it’s just the sort of nasty little game he’d play on me. Seems I’ve pissed off quite a few people lately.”

“Ya think? Anyway, I don’t need, or want, you to be free of that. But, I might need your help in doing some spells.”

“Spells?” I choked on my laughter. “What sort of spells?”

“One that will help us locate Peterson. Or maybe find others he’s working with? I don’t know really. I just need another witch, someone who knows more about all of this than I do.”

“And just to clarify, that someone isn’t your mother.” I nodded.

“I don’t want her more involved than she already is. She would be fine with me doing magic, but not so fine with me getting involved in danger and deception.”

This was far more than the one simple favor I’d agreed to. Needless to say, if I was going to do this for her, I wanted something in return. My fingers trailed over a drab grey woolen sweater hanging in the closet. “Danger and deception, my specialties. I’m in. But you have to do something else for me.” I didn’t pause to give her a change to object. “I need full access to Lorelei’s life. I want to know everything there is to know about her. You’re her best friend, so I’m counting on you to help me do that.” I pulled out another blue shirt, the fourth like it, and sighed. There had to be more to my twin than what this mundane closet and her apathetic personality revealed. How else could she have won the hearts and loyalties of so many?

Abby slammed the drawer shut. “You want to take over her life, don’t you?” she didn’t wait for a reply. “I knew it. I knew your reasons couldn’t possibly be altruistic. ‘I want to get to know my real mom’,” she mocked. “That’s such crap. You just want to steal your sister’s life.”

I rolled my eyes. So much drama. “Well, she’s not living it right now, is she? And no, I don’t want to steal it. Just borrow it. Try it on for size.”

I held up the boring blue shift in front of me feeling Abby’s wrath grow darker. Sigh. “I want to understand what I missed out on. That’s all.” I shrugged, then shoved the blue shirt back in place next to the others. “Help me, and I’ll help you.”

Abby paused, scratched the bridge of her nose, frowned, then finally nodded. “Fine. It’s a deal. But cross me and...”

“Yeah, the threats are starting to get old now, Abigail. Explain to me again what I’m looking for.”

“Her book of Shadows. It has a spell, but I can’t figure it out. I’ve been studying one like it for weeks, but I need the original. It has information about ancient spells and rituals for tracking people, but there’s one page I haven't been able to decode.”

“Decode?”

“Figure out. Translate. Understand,” she said with the extra impatient tone reserved solely for me, it seemed.

“Yes, I comprehend the word, just not why you’re having difficulty.”

“Hel-lo,” she said, “new to this, remember? And my mother has taken her grimoire to her coven or whatever, so I don’t have access to it.”

In uneasy silence, Abby and I searched Lorelei’s room for over an hour, rummaging through every box and emptying every drawer. Vivienne could be here soon, and while she tolerated my casual curiosity, I doubt she’d be pleased to find me invading her daughter’s privacy to this extent.

“Can we hurry this up and get out of here?” I groaned, pressing my ear to the door to check for footsteps. “Don’t you remember any of the spell?”

“I didn’t exactly write it down,” she said. “I’d have to be able to read it to do that.”

“Isn’t that why you all stay tethered to your portable phones? So you can snap a photo at any moment?”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you helped instead of just complained this would go faster.”

“You’re her best friend. Shouldn’t you know where she’d hide her deep, dark, under-the-mattress secrets?” I lifted the mattress for dramatic effect and then stopped. “You have got to be kidding.” Reaching in, I pulled out a large, withered volume. “Could this be it?” That girl truly lacked imagination in every facet of her existence.

Abby exhaled a sigh. “Yes.” She flipped it open to a bookmarked page, then handed it back to me. “Lorelei and I have been over this dozens of times. She and Adrius went over it. Even Zanthiel looked it over.” She eyed me, pursing her lips. “I doubt you’ll be able to decipher it, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She paced away, chewing her thumbnail, then came back. “You can’t read it either, can you? I knew it was too good to be true.”

I stared at the symbols on the page, traced my fingers over each one in turn and watched as they glowed to life. A second later, flames leaped from the page. “Think we've found the right spell,” I said, mesmerized by the tiny inferno fading in my hands. “It’s only obvious if you know what you’re looking for,” I murmured. “This was written for a witch, but not by one. It’s Elvish. And it’s cryptic for a reason.” I glanced up at her. “As much as you adore your bestie Lorelei, she is barely a fledgling witch, despite what her powers indicate. She knows little of my world or our rituals and methods. Her grandmother... our grandmother... was a practicing sorceress with great skill, judging by the intricacies of this spell.”

“So, you can decode it or whatever?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. I can de-code it.”

For a blessed moment, she finally stopped talking at me and gave me a chance to think. I went over the symbols, deciphering each one in turn until I’d translated the entire spell.

“So?” She paced past me for the hundredth time. “Anything?”

“Not sure what your sudden rush is. I mean, it’s not like her life’s in peril or anything. Whoops.” I pressed my finger to my lips. “I guess it is.” My fake smile melted as I tapped the book page. “They may have seen all of this before, but they wouldn’t have known what it meant. If they had, well, they would have done something about it sooner. Or not.” I shrugged. “Humans are odd that way. Either way, we can use it now.”

“What is it?”

“A spell to a porthole.”

Her pacing stopped sharp. “A porthole. Woah. I am not going back into crazyland with you.”

If I’d been in better temperament, the very suggestion of Abigail in my realm would have been endlessly entertaining. However, I wasn’t. “It doesn’t lead to my world. It leads to another place within yours. A place both my grandmother and this Camilla woman have traveled to frequently. A place, I suspect, where we may find the man you are looking for.”

She peered over my shoulder and squinted at the pages. “How can you tell all of that?”

“So many questions.” I breathed an impatient sigh. “Do you want to stay here for a history lesson, or do you want to get moving? My time here is short. If I’m to spend a chunk of it helping you instead of playing with my sister’s life, then I’d rather it not take all week.”

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed once. “And I did mention that Vivienne said she’d meet me here? Around this time.” Is my mother the sort who was often late?

Abby jerked back. “You did. So how do we get through this porthole?”

“We need a water source. And something that belonged to the spell caster.” I tucked the book under my arm and hurried to the kitchen. The beaded necklace was still curled up on the table. I lifted it, letting it dangle from my finger.

“That one that belonged to your grandmother,” she said, casting me a side glance.

Grandmother. My gaze drifted to the photo of the older woman next to Vivienne and a much younger Lorelei. I swallowed back the word and gave a stiff nod. “Good. Wherever this porthole leads, it had answers for them, or they would not have scribed such an intricate spell. It’s a start at least.”

I flipped open the book and started to speak the spell aloud, then paused. “Not going to work if I say it.” I handed her the grimoire, which she stared at with wide eyes.

The clock in the hall chimed the hour. Abby jumped, dropped the book, and sent it skidding to the floor.

“We don’t have time for this,” I snapped, stooping to retrieve it.

Desperately I flipped through pages trying to find the right spell. Abigail, always so antsy, was still shifting her feet. It made me yearn for the spell Octăhvia used to turn her subjects into stone garden ornaments.

“How much time do we have before Vivienne arrives?” She dropped to her knees to help me, but her trembling hands were more hindrance than help.

I pushed her hands away. “About two minutes,” I answered without looking up.

Abby froze garden-ornament still. “Wait, what? I thought you said—”

I turned on the faucet, downing out the rest of her protest. Before she could turn it off, I grabbed her hand and tossed the beads into the flowing water. “Say it.” I stabbed my finger at the page. “Say it now. Just repeat after me. “

Abby spoke the words with surprising fluency. She’d had some practice with spells. Interesting.

Down the hall, the jingle of keys was followed by the click of a door unlocking.

Vivienne is home.

Eclectic waves of golden energy surrounded us as the front door creaked open. I saw the whites of Abigail’s eyes widen just before the spell pulled us from the kitchen into a massive cloud of nothingness.