Beautifully Broken (26 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Matheson kept his expression stern. “I highly doubt that. I think that’s enough for today. We’ll pick up tomorrow. Let’s give that antipsychotic time to take effect.” With his paperwork under one arm, he strode to the door and hit the buzzer.

Nurse Gwen accompanied me to my room, where I insisted on staying, even forgoing lunch or dinner. They brought a pill—some sort of antipsychotic, but I couldn’t remember the name.

The next day Nurse Gwen took me for another session with the psychiatrist. This time he brought along a portable tape recorder and switched it on after taking his seat. “How are we today, Shiloh? Better?”

“Yeah. But I’m kinda fuzzy from all the drugs you’ve been pumping into me.”

“Do you recall why you’re here?”

“Because you guys won’t let me leave.”

Matheson shifted in his seat, scanning his notes. “Now tell me why you believe Ravenhurst Manor is haunted.”

I tugged on the hem of my horrible, thin gown. “Who told you that? Of course it’s not. Just a big spooky house. I guess I’ve watched too many episodes of
Supernatural
.”

“So you’re telling me that the Donovan’s mansion isn’t haunted? Shadows don’t haunt you?”

“Nope.” I shrugged. “Honest. Everyone here’s a crazy person. Except me. Zero-crazy.”
 

“Glad to see you’ve retained your sense of humor, Shiloh. But you need to be serious or I can’t help you.”

“Sheesh,
I am
.”

He sighed. “Alright, let’s move on, shall we?” He loosened his tie. “Describe the voices you’ve been hearing. What do they say to you?”

“C’mon, Doc, everybody talks to themselves. Doesn’t mean anything,” I said, but that only brought a smirk to his pompous face. “I know it sounds like I had a breakdown, but I didn’t.”

He jotted this down. “So you’re
not
experiencing any form of paranoia? You haven’t been hallucinating?”

Ugh, he’s getting on my nerves. Why do shrinks answer questions with questions?

I pulled on a thread and my hem unraveled. “Nope. Not me.”

“Well…good. I hope you’re finally starting to realize there aren’t any nefarious plots against you.” He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “The meds must be working. All right, let’s chat again tomorrow. I strongly suggest going to the rec room and socializing rather than hanging out in your room all day.”

Ohhh, goody.

Matheson gathered his belongings and marched out the door. Nurse Gwen returned to escort me to my room. Before closing the door, she asked if I wanted anything to help me sleep.

“No, thank you. The nightmares will come.”

She offered me a sad smile. “Everybody has inner demons to contend with. Some are discernible and some are not.”

“Gotta say I’m with you on that.”

Leaving me with her words of wisdom, she shut the door and bolted the lock.

I pulled the thin blanket over my head. Worries orbited my head until it ached.
Is
Dad worried about me? Did Trent agree to put me here? What did Jillian tell everyone? Why hasn’t anyone come to see me?
One disturbing question remained.
Who wanted me dead? Besides Esael.

The days started to blend and blur together. A week passed. I learned the routine. Breakfast in the cafeteria at seven a.m. Then the patients lined up to take meds and wait for a counseling session with one of the shrinks, next came lunch. After that, the girls could spend the rest of the afternoon in the recreation room. Girls played checkers, board games, or did various crafts while others read books or watched TV. At three o’clock, we gathered for roll call. Five was dinnertime and bedtime nine o’clock.

Tired of hiding in my room, I decided to get out of my rut and interact. After breakfast, with my chin to my chest, I walked into the rec room and sat at an empty card table littered with dominos. Nobody said hello. Teenage girls of various ages, backgrounds and races were seated about the room. A catatonic began head banging. One girl sat alone, her head shaved and her eyes glassy. Scars crossed each wrist.

Please God, don’t let me end up like that.

“Whaddya staring at Claudia for?”

I looked into a pair of butterscotch eyes set deep into a round face. “I didn’t mean to stare. What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

Crud. Me and my big mouth.
We’d been told we weren’t allowed to ask about anyone else’s condition. Damn, I was breaking the rules. Again.

The girl, Asian and slender, wearing a white razorback tank and pj bottoms, waved an arm. “Shock therapy.”

My mouth fell open.

The girl laughed. “Nah, she’s just whacked. But then again, we all are.” She smiled, straddling the metal chair. She rested her elbows on the top rail and studied me for a minute. “You look like you might last.”

“How long?” I whispered.

“Have I been here? Three months. Where you from?” Her clumsily cut bangs swung above the thin brows and cat-shaped eyes.

“Whispering Pines. You?” I hunched over the card table.

 
“Castro Valley.” She bent her head. “Why you here?”

 
“Matheson’s leaning towards psychosis…hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation. Impulsive actions, self-damaging behavior, and an amazingly pessimistic attitude.”

 
“Yeah? Join the friggin’ club.” The girl burst into a harsh, barking laugh. She fiddled with the dominos on the table. Her fingernails short and chewed. Talking to this girl made my heart ache for Ariana. I needed a friend.

“I’m Lei,” she said.

“Shiloh.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lei stacked the dominos into rows.

“What’s your story?”

Lei slouched, unblinking. “I started a fire that burned down my house. It was an accident…sort of.” She slapped the table with her hand and the dominos jumped. “Nobody cares whether I rot in here or not.”

“When my dad finds out what happened to me, he’ll take me home.”

“Sure,” Lei said, looking away.

I had been allowed to brush my teeth, take a shower, and wash my hair under the keen supervision of Nurse Gwen, except I wasn’t permitted the use of a razor. I did get a fresh pair of underwear and another ugly green gown to wear. At least I smelled a whole lot better, even if I was getting hairy.

 
She legs crossed her legs. “What time are your sessions?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Mine are right after yours. Does Amazon lady walk you over?”

“Who?”

“That’s what we nicknamed the old sourpuss. Y’know, Nurse Gwen.” Running her fingers like a comb through her straight raven hair, she winked.

I smiled. “Yeah, I get it.” A notion occurred to me. “Lei, do you remember Madison Donovan? She might’ve been a patient here.”

Lei leaned on her elbows and fiddled with the dominoes scattered on the table. “Yeah. In a different ward, though. Long-term. Institutionalized care kind of stuff. She was here before this
hot-o-licious
dude whisked her away.”

 
“Did anyone else come to visit her?”

She looked thoughtful. “Hmm…yeah, yeah, several times this lady came.”

“What did she look like?” I picked at a loose seam on my gown.

“Umm, not tall, kinda tiny, with short blondish hair. She looked like a movie star.”

No denying the truth. Madison had to be Jillian’s daughter. But why hadn’t my parents told me about her sooner?

Lei touched my arm. “You look freaked.”

I didn’t answer. My mouth dried as I gazed out the bay windows, hungering for my grandmother’s hugs, the stench of Dad’s pipe, my pink bunny slippers, my friends…and even Trent.

The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the bay windows, lining one side of the open space. In the distance railroad tracks looped around the hillside. The bland walls were vacant. In the corners, the shadows congregated, murmuring,
“Shiloh. Shiloh. Shiloh.”

 
“You have a boyfriend?” Lei asked.

“No. Did you hear screaming last night?” I hugged myself. “I can’t sleep. I miss my bed and it’s so dang cold…and the screaming.”

“I know,” she said with a heavy sigh.

The loudspeaker announced dinnertime and everyone walked toward the cafeteria. I shuffled along in my cloth slippers, grabbing a plastic tray off the stack and getting in line behind Lei. The charred stench of over-cooked food wafted from the kitchen.
A lady with a nametag that read Mental Health Technician
slopped meatloaf and mashed potatoes on our trays. We sat at a nearby table, and I picked at my cold food. Finally, a nurse declared dinner was over and everyone returned to their rooms for the night.

The next afternoon Lei and I sat on the couch watching TV. “Saturday is visitation day,” she said. “Family can come any day from six to eight at night, but on Saturday they can stay for like, four hours.”

 
“What’s today?”

Lei raised an eyebrow and said in a mocking tone, “Uh, today is Thursday; the next day is Friday, followed by Saturday.” Girls huddled near the couch giggled. “Do they need to up your meds?”

“
No.
Just not sure how long I’ve been here,” I confessed. School would start soon.
Will they call me the crazy girl at school? How can I face going back?

“You have anyone coming?”

I slumped in my seat. “Dunno. How do I find out?”

“They usually have the visitors list posted by the nurses’ station,” she said.

“Is anyone coming to visit you?”

“No,” Lei said quietly. “Not since the day I entered this place.”

After dinner, I went to the nurse’s station and found the corkboard with flyers, rehabilitation packets and the visitors’ list. My name was fourth on the register and directly across from it was Dad’s name, Jackson Ravenwolf. Relief flooded me, then confusion.
Why has it taken him so long to visit?
I hadn’t seen my parents since I’d been incarcerated. Not that I wanted to see Jillian. But I missed my dad.

Shadows thickened and moved along the white walls like black tar as I returned to my cell. I was too tired and drugged to use any magick to zap them. And while I reclined on the hard mattress, staring at the dark shapes twisting on the ceiling, I realized even here in my little room, far from Ravenhurst, the shadows still whispered my name.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

On Saturday morning I had butterflies in my stomach. I fidgeted and frequently glanced at the wall clock. All the girls who had visitors were brought into the rec room and assigned a table. Families were reunited with their daughters, granddaughters, or nieces. I waited anxiously, one hand rising to touch for my talisman, but it wasn’t there. My gaze skipped to the door every time someone entered.

An hour passed.

Amazon lady, er, Nurse Gwen’s pager went off and she left the room. I got to my feet, tears tumbling from my eyes. Amazon lady reappeared and took me by the arm. “Come quietly, Shiloh.”

What now? Where is she taking me?

She led me into several corridors, before we were buzzed into another wing. We stopped by a door with a steel plate labeled Doctor Douglas Matheson, PhD.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

Nurse Gwen actually smiled. “Nothing. Wait here.” She opened the office door and I stepped inside. This time when the door closed, she didn’t lock it. Dominating the office was a massive desk and across from it two leather cushioned seats. Bookcases lined one wall and a globe sat on a gold stand. Behind the desk, hanging on the wall were framed certificates and awards. I looked out the window. The gray sky was bursting with clouds. Raindrops tapped against the windowpane. I focused on the desk. Stacks of papers, books, framed pictures of his family and a phone.

I lifted the receiver and dialed my house. I held my breath. It rang and rang. I dialed Ariana. No answer. I dropped into a chair and was startled when the door opened.

Matheson strode inside, my aunt Lauren close at his heels. She moved with poise, stylishly dressed in a form-fitting cream V-neck blouse, knee-length skirt and brown suede boots. Professional. Serious. Aunt Lauren gaped when she saw my cropped hair, then quickly forced a smile. “Merry meet, Shiloh,” she said and sat in the seat next to mine. Folding her coat on her lap, she took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Matheson moved behind the desk to take a seat. He adjusted his tie and tentatively offered us a smile. “Lauren, it’s wonderful to see you again—”

“Wish I could say the same.” She squared her shoulders, facing him. She leaned closer, placing her palm on his desk, gold bracelets sliding down her arm. “Cut the crap, Doug. I’m fine. More than fine. And my niece is fine too. I spent almost a year in this hellhole and I’m not glad to be back.”

Their stares clashed. Finally, his attention switched to me. “There seems to have been a gross misunderstanding. Your aunt has explained the circumstances and your father’s wish for your immediate release. I’m having the paperwork prepared as we speak.”

Aunt Lauren patted my arm. “Don’t fret, honey. You’re being discharged.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” Matheson said. The door opened and Nurse Gwen poked her head in. Excusing himself, the doctor followed her out into the hall.

 
“How’d you find me?” I asked.

 
“Your father spoke to that kind man, Mr. Evans, who discovered what happened, and then your father called me and asked if I’d come get you.” Aunt Lauren’s expression was grim. “Jackson wanted to come himself but he’s been hospitalized.”

“Is he okay?”

“Your father has pneumonia, but he’s gonna be fine.” She sighed. “Apparently, that mother of yours concocted an elaborate story that you’d had a psychotic episode at Ravenhurst. He kept insisting he didn’t believe it.”

“Uh, Aunt Lauren?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Thank you.”

Before she could reply, the door flung open. Matheson and Amazon lady advanced into the room, locking the door behind them. He reclaimed his seat and she stood next to him.

“Maxwell Donovan is on their way over,” Matheson said, glancing at his gold wristwatch. “Mr. Donovan asked us to keep you here until he arrives.”

Why?
Alarm bells went off in my head. I’d never even met Trent’s dad.
What did he have to do with me being here? Was it because I was claiming someone pushed me at his house?
I glanced at Aunt Lauren, who instantly read the anxiety on my face.

She stood, extending her hand. “Thank you for your time, Doug, but we can’t wait,” she said in an authoritative voice unlike her usual soft cadence.

Matheson stood and stiffly shook her hand. “Mr. Donovan was quite adamant that you wait for him.”

“We’ll pass,” Aunt Lauren said. “The Donovans have harmed our family enough.”

“Please, stay Miss Broussard.”

She touched my arm. “Shiloh, get up. We’re leaving.”

Matheson nodded in Nurse Gwen’s direction. She moved around the desk and stood in front of the doorway, arms crossed. I wasn’t sure what to do. Nurse Gwen outweighed us both by fifty pounds.

“Tell her to move.
Now
,” Aunt Lauren warned, “or suffer the consequences.”

A hush came over the room while they weighed her blatant threat.

“Please,” Matheson said. “I didn’t want this to turn ugly. Can’t we talk this over rationally?”

“No.” Aunt Lauren closed in on Nurse Gwen, her eyes flashing with anger. She raised her arms and with her shoulders erect something about her stance made her look like a powerful being—an angel—with magick thrumming within her. Her aquamarine aura fluttered violently around the crown of her head. Between her hands, she created an energy ball. The azure orb pulsated with power and white light.

Without taking her eyes off Nurse Gwen, she said, keeping her voice sharp, explosive,
“Evil doers now must rest. Reflect it back to who knows best. Negative energy spent for evil and bane, go back now from whence you came. Far away I send you this hour, may all your attempts to harm turn sour.”
Aunt Lauren glanced at me and said, “Cover your eyes, Shiloh.”

 
The sphere expanded into a bright, spinning globe of light. I raised one hand to shield my eyes. Behind my closed lids, a blast of color exploded throughout the room, knocking me back into the bookcase. Someone grabbed my hand. “Don’t open your eyes,” Aunt Lauren said, tugging my hand and leading me from the room. “This way.” She shoved me through the door and shut it behind us.

I opened my eyes and we rushed down the hall, the click-clack of her heels echoing off the floor. I trailed behind her through a maze of corridors until we reached the elevators. We stepped inside and my aunt pushed the button for level one. My heart was racing while I waited for the elevator to arrive at the ground floor. I held my breath, fearful that any minute someone would stop us, and frowned at my smudged reflection in the metal doors. The car shuddered and jerked as it slowed and the doors slid open.

Outside Aunt Lauren handed me her wool coat and indicated for me to put it on. Cold winds seeped through my thin hospital gown.

“My car is over there.” We made it to her silver Camry, where she fumbled with the keys and said over the roof of the car, “You’re safe now.”

But it wasn’t true.

When we rounded the bend, I shifted to face Aunt Lauren. “What did you do?”

She glanced at me. “Just a release all negativity spell. When they awaken—they won’t remember a thing, but they’ll treat those girls in there more kindly.” Once we were on the freeway, she added, “I have something for you.” She handed me a wad of tissue.

My silver pentacle necklace was wrapped inside. I put the chain around my neck and fastened the clasp. I leaned against the headrest and let sleep pull me under.

I awoke as Aunt Lauren pulled off the freeway. I stared out the window awhile, watching the traffic, buildings, and pines going by before I turned to her. “Aunt Lauren, what do you know about my powers?”

She stopped at the red light and turned to me. “What do
you
know?”

“Not much. I know they’re getting stronger.”

A horn blared behind us and she swore. She hit the gas and said, “Let’s stop at that café and get a cup of coffee.” She turned into the parking lot and we went into the restaurant. When we were seated, she handed me a paper sack. “Go change. I’ll order coffee and two slices of pie.”

In the bathroom, I dressed in the hoodie, frayed jeans and pink Converse she had brought. A glance in the mirror told me that I looked like crap. And I felt like crap too. I shoved the nasty gown and slippers into the sack and threw them in the trash. I tried to yank off the plastic band on my wrist but it wouldn’t tear. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and returned to the booth. Steaming cups of coffee and slices of hot apple pie waited on the table.

“New look?” she teased, leaning to ruffle my short hair.

“No. Mother’s idea.”

“That bitch.” She frowned and shook her head. “You poor thing. It’ll grow back.”

“Whatever…not much I can do about it now.” I took a big bite of yummy apple pie and licked my lips. “Does the whole family have magick?”

Her brows flickered with surprise. “Um, well, yes, we do possess certain talents.”
 

“Like seeing dead people?” I grunted. “Dang, that phrase is getting old.”

“Only you, honey. You’re—”

I loudly groaned. “Please don’t say
special!
I’m no heroine. I’m cranky, spineless and unreliable. Sure, I have the power to attract the supernatural, but that doesn’t count. I’m no
Charmed One
.”

She smiled. “No one is asking you to battle forces of darkness…yet.”

My mouth fell open.

She positioned her hands in front of her, chuckling. “When you’re ready we can discuss your role in the coven. You won’t inherit your full potential, well,
powers,
until your eighteenth birthday.”

 
“Anyway to speed up the process? I could use them
now
.” An incredible wash of relief overcame me, so I rushed on. “I need help. There’s a big evil after me. Shadows have been stalking me for years and now undead Claire Donovan is haunting me.” My cheeks flushed and my fingers gripped the edge of the table. “And I don’t care anymore if people think I’m weird. Being different is a part of who I am and I accept that now. Knowing
why
would be helpful. That’s why I came to your house that day, I needed…” My voice broke on the last sentence.

“I wanted to help, but I was sworn to silence. A witch’s oath of secrecy.”

My lips parted in surprise. “But huh?”

For a long instant, she didn’t answer. Then she wet her lips and spoke in a hushed tone, “All Wiccans are asked at the start of their ceremonial participation with the craft to swear an oath of secrecy to her coven. Until you were of age, I was forbidden to speak of it. Normally, it’s eighteen. It’s obvious we can’t wait until then. You need answers now.”

“What happens if you break the oath?”

“Don’t worry about that now.” She patted my hand. “Ask away.”

I shifted in my seat. “Okay. Good. I read the journals and I have tons of questions. Evans is my mentor, and he has been training me and taught me tons about magick.”

“He sounds nice. But it should have been me and not an outsider.” She stirred her coffee. “I’m sorry about that, honey.”

“Have you always known you were a witch?”

“Yes. Your grandmother taught both me and Jillian the craft at a young age. You see, all the females in the Broussard family are descendants of powerful witches.” She crossed her legs and gazed at me, her face calm, then spoke, her voice steady. “Each generation possess unique magickal powers. We’ve been mostly known as white witches. Although several of our ancestors practiced black magick. And like you, I’ve always been stronger at producing white protection or defensive spells. Energy balls too.” She hunched over the table and I did the same. “On your father’s side, you are doubly blessed. He comes from a long line of shaman. The medicine man, although sometimes it was a woman, would attain help from the spirit world, including the Great Spirit, otherwise known as the Wakan Tanka by the Lakota Sioux. Shamans are intermediaries between the human and spirit world. Thus, your ability to see the dead. Your grandmother can explain it better than I. I teach third grade, not Native American history. When all this blows over, come by and I’ll show you various spells and rituals.”

“Hmm, that explains a lot actually.” I massaged my scar.

She took a sip of coffee. “You’ll need a familiar, too. A feline to aid in your spells.”

“I already have one.” I grinned.
Charm.
“And Jillian?”

She sat back, one hand fiddling with a sugar packet. “Ah, yes, I figured you’d want to know about
that.
But that is a talk we can have at another time. What you need to know is that she is not who she appears. She’s
extremely
powerful and…dangerous. She got heavily into the black arts, even,
Invoking the Spirit
. Dark stuff. You should be careful. She won’t like her secrets exposed and it sounds like you’re getting close to uncovering something. Why else would she have you locked away?”

I blinked back tears. “My head is spun.”

She placed her hand over mine. “I know, honey.”

I slumped in my seat. “It’s fine,” I lied, because it wasn’t.
Horror washed over me in a devastating rush of intuition. I not only had to battle Esael…but my own mother as well. A dark witch. So I wouldn’t start blubbering into my pie, I asked,
“Why can’t you tell me what happened between you and Jillian?”

Her hand fluttered to her collar. “You’re a lot like Jillian… I see the same traits in you sometimes. Impulsive. Quick tempered. Passionate.”

“No way! I’m
nothing
like her,” I said, my voice intensifying, causing several patrons to glance over at us. “So?”

 
“It doesn’t matter now.” She sounded miserable.

I let the subject drop. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody I was released from prison.”

“Prison?”

“A crude joke. I’m serious, though, I don’t want anyone to know I’m out.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. Where is my mother anyway?”

“She’s shopping.”

 
“Not home taking care of my sick father?”

“You know her as well as I do, Shiloh. She’s a self-absorbed bitch.” My aunt paid the check and slid from the booth. “We’d better get going. I’ll take you home.”