Authors: Multiple
Chapter Twenty-One
Moral Support
I pushed the bathroom door
closed and counted backwards from ten. Ten, nine, eight-
"Was it something you
ate?" Mom asked through the door. "Maybe I should make you some
broth?"
"No, Ma," I
snapped, closing the lid on top of the toilet and lowering myself on top of it.
"Well, if it's that time
of the month, I have a potion that's great for cramps," she offered.
"I don't need a
potion," I said through clenched teeth. "Can I get a little peace?”
I knew one thing for
sure...if I had known Jack had contacted my mother and told her that I had been
kidnapped and was to be tried for mortal murders and exposing the supernatural
world, he wouldn't have gotten a piece of tail last night.
But he had, and my mother,
who hadn't been outside the Greene County line in 5 years, loaded up her old
Ford F150 and made the trek to Raleigh. And when I got home at 6:35 AM,
tear-streaked and devastated over Jack and generally pissed off at the world,
my mother was sitting Indian style, meditating beside my front door. Surprise!
I leaned over to the sink and
folded my arm, putting my head on top. Last night, I didn't believe things
could get much worse. I was wrong.
Before I could even step a
foot inside the apartment, my mother had to clean the energies with sage. Then,
because my fridge was desolate except for a bag of blood and a box of pizza,
she dragged me to Harris Teeter for a shopping spree. Three hundred fifty-five
dollars and sixteen cents later, she'd needed help unloading her massive
suitcases. Plural. Because she wasn't leaving my side until The Watchers
cleared my name.
All of a sudden I wanted the
Trial to have happened like, yesterday.
"Jade, where do you keep
your crystals?" I heard the opening and closing of cabinets. "Actually,
never mind dear, I'll just find them on my own."
Flushing the toilet to keep
up appearances, I pushed my way out of the bathroom. She knew better. If there
was one way to get under a witch's skin, it was rummaging through her magical
supplies.
I walked over to where she
stood, peering into my glass bottles. "Eye of newt, gossamer
wings...hey!"
I snatched them from her grip
and stacked them the way I like them before closing the cabinets. "I'm a
necromancer, mom. Crystalwork is for-" I stopped, snapping my mouth shut.
She scoffed, crossing her
thin arms against her chest. "My gods," she said, shaking her head.
"The city has turned my daughter into an elitist!"
I rolled my eyes, turning
around to get a tumbler. I filled it with water, murmuring a small charm for
strength. "Don't be dramatic. I'm just saying that my training kind
of...discounts the old world traditions. Crystalwork is just kinda hokey, like
sweeping to create a magical space and riding a broom."
"Nonsense," she
said, walking to her mountain of belongings. "The old ways are just as
effective as your newfangled sorcery."
"Oh yeah?" I said,
finishing the water. "I tried scrying for my keys the other day and it led
me to an old pair of shoes."
My mother was on her hands
and knees, scattering books and papers all over the floor. "Magic only
works if the wielder believes in it. If you think something is bullshit, then
your result will be, well, crap."
I cringed as she pulled out
even more junk, littering my freshly swept floor. I walked out of the kitchen,
kneeling beside her. "Maybe if you told me what you were looking for, I
could help you find it."
She kept searching through
it, her eyes darting back and forth. "If the mess bothers you so much, I
know an amazing tidy up spell that works like a charm."
The first thing that came to
mind was, "Because your house is so tidy?" but I decided against it,
massaging my temple.
"I like cleaning
up," I said, moving a few papers back to the pile. "I get a sense of
satisfaction when I do it with my own two hands."
She paused, looking up from
the mess. "Like your father. Something he picked up from the military. And
boy, did that man look delicious in his dress whites." She chuckled to
herself, turning back the hands of time. "How he put up with me all those
years, gods only know." She looked back down and snatched up a piece of
paper. "Found it!"
I peered at it in vain. Only
my mother could read her chicken scratch. "What is it?"
"A spell to recall a
forgotten item," she said, scanning the page.
I shot another glance at her
small mountain of belongings. "What else could you have possibly
brought?"
She looked at me like she did
when I was six and accidentally turned her familiar, a cat named Midnight, into
a plush stuffed animal. "Your history, of course. The dress your great
great great etcetera grandmother wore during her Trial in 1694."
"Grandma Proctor,"
I said, surprised. "Why do I need her dress?"
"Well, first and
foremost, for luck."
I cleared my throat.
"Uh, mom, Grandma Proctor was found guilty. And hung."
"Details," she said
with a wave of her hand. "Her death was the beginning of our magical
bloodlines, Jade. Where our power originates from."
"Ah," I said with a
nod. "So I'm wearing it for good luck. What else?"
"Well," she said,
pulling out a ziplock bag of colored candles. "It shows respect.
Reverence. You're accused of a flagrant disregard of the sanctity of magic and
the supernatural realm, so you'll need all the help you can get."
I stuck my tongue out at her.
"And lastly," she
continued, laying the candles out on a scarf one by one, "because it's one
helluva dress."
She put aside a yellow, blue,
and silver candle from the bunch. "What do those candles symbolize?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Is
this Occult 101?"
"Jade," she said
with warning in her tone. "What do they symbolize? Why am I using
them?"
"Yellow is for intellect
and memory," I answered after a dramatic sigh. "Blue for psychic
protection, and silver for astral energies and channeling memories."
"Good," she said
with a small smile. "You absorbed some of what I taught." She lined
each candle in a holder on my altar then sank to her knees. "Audio meus
pects pectoris, tribuo mihi regimen. Ostendo mihi semita." She finished
the spell and then blew a gust of air over the candles, setting the candles
alight.
I watched in awe as her old
leather trunk rattled then popped open.
I pulled myself from the
floor and padded to where it stood. I glanced inside and gasped. Tucked beside
a flowered housecoat and a southern cookbook was the most beautiful dress I'd
ever seen. It was the color of the moonlit sky, black and gray glimmering as
the light danced on the fabric. The dress was soft to the touch, like my
fingers were grazing a cloud. A brown cord laced up the corseted back and when
I touched it, I could feel the love and care that went into every stitch.
"It's beautiful," I
gushed, holding the fabric to my cheek. I'd never really been one for fancy
dresses or gowns – I'd never really had a reason. I'd skipped the prom,
and the one handfasting I've been to was casual, with the bride walking down
the aisle in jeans and Chucks.
I glanced over at Mom. Her
ebony hair created a dark curtain that trailed to the floor. She was frozen,
her eyes glazed over. "Mom?"
After a moment, her body
shuddered and she sat up straight, running a hand through her hair.
"They were
t-talking," she said hoarsely. "For once they had something helpful
to say."
I could tell from the way she
avoided looking at me that her voices were chatting about me. "What did
they say, Mom?"
She massaged the bridge of
her nose then started murmuring to herself, counting out something on her
fingers.
"Mom?" I repeated.
"You're starting to freak me out."
She turned back to the altar
and snuffed each flame with her bare fingers. "You really should have told
me about the Trial sooner. We would have had more time."
I swallowed the knot in my
throat. "You know something. About my Trial."
She nodded.
"And it's obviously
bad."
"We just need more
time," she said, turning back to her bag of supplies. "We just need
more time."
"Mom," I said, my
heart screaming in my chest. "You have to tell me. Before I have a stroke
in the middle of the room."
She turned to me, her face
brightening. "That's a brilliant idea! Illness would give us more time to
prepare and find out who is behind all this."
"I'm gonna pretend you
didn't just say that," I said through clenched teeth, knocking on wood. I
stomped to where she sat rustling through her magic books. I sank to my knees
beside her and put my hand over hers. "Tell me."
She stopped flipping through
her books and raised her eyes to mine. Her lips were trembling. She was scared
shitless. The only times I'd ever seen her this afraid was when I told her dad
was talking about cutting off summer visits and when she had to leave the house
for my high school graduation.
"It's your Trial,"
she said finally. "It's soon. Real soon."
I scoffed. "I knew that
already."
"No," she said,
shaking her head and turning back to the books. "It's beneath the next
full moon, Jade. In-"
"Two days," I finished,
my eyes widening. "My Trial is in two days and the only defense I have is,
‘I didn't do it.’?"
Mom gripped my hand tight,
her voice strong and sure. "We'll figure something out. We have to."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Playing Nice
Two days. Well technically,
one and a half. For the first half of the day, Mom and I'd poured over every
book about occult investigation and the truth behind who killed Kenny and Amy.
It had been a waste. We didn't know anything more than we had that morning.
So I'd decided that I was
blocking out everything – the likelihood that I was gonna get a really
close haircut in a few days, that my boyfriend thought I'd shagged a were, and
that I was dying before I could slap Riley upside his head.
I mean, where the hell did he
get off? He had no right to stroll in and out of my life as he pleased. He
couldn't crush my heart then look at me like time hadn't passed. And then to
have the nerve to kiss me, knowing that there was a piece of me that yearned
for it.
Damn it.
I stared up at the vaulted
ceiling in my bedroom and remembered the move in. Bruce, I think his name was,
was one of the movers. I remember thinking he looked a lot like my dad –
short, military style haircut, strong rugged hands, and no-nonsense lines on
his face...until he smiled.
"Awfully nice place you
got here," he'd said. "Your parents must be proud."
I'd flashed him a sad smile.
The last thing my father had said to me before I packed up my Bug, my first
gift from NACA, was that if I took their offer and used my 'devil powers' for
them, I would never be allowed to come back. Ever. I'd tried to explain to him
that I'd always had and would always have magical ability and if the abilities
were evil, then so was I. He'd cried then...the first time I'd ever seen. We'd embraced
for a moment before he ripped himself away and locked himself in his prayer
room.
His prayers weren't answered.
I accepted the job and moved to North Carolina.
As a witch, a necromancer,
I'd seen and done amazing things and made more money than any other 21-year-old
without the last name Hilton. When I trained, I'd learned how to hone my skills
and block out the voices from the All that haunted my mother. I had a super
nice apartment and car in my name. But what had I given it up for? Giving
jilted spouses an extra buck or two? What the hell was I dying for?
I closed my eyes and tried to
make everything go away.
"Jade?" Mom
whispered at my doorway. "You asleep?"
"No, Ma," I cried
out with a groan. "But I'm trying. Really, really hard."
"You can go on in,"
she said, stepping away from the door.
"Mom, I don't want to
see..." My voice trailed off when I saw my visitor. Jack was standing
there, his shaggy hair tussled, his face like chiseled stone.
I pulled myself up, fixing my
t-shirt and pulling the blanket over my naked legs. "Thanks Mom," I
said sarcastically. "I'm not even decent."
"The guy has seen you in
your birthday suit," she said from the living room. "Your concern
with modesty is a little late."
Jack smirked, then went back
to scowling.
Neither of us moved an inch,
waiting for the other to take the leap.
"It’s awfully quiet in
there," Mom piped nosily.
"Ugh!" I grunted,
throwing back the covers. I marched to the door and slammed it shut, giving
Jack and me a little privacy.
"So what do you want?"
I said, breaking the ice.
"What do I want?"
he repeated icily. "Am I inconveniencing you, Jade?"
"Don't be
dramatic," I sighed. "You were the one who stormed away like a
spoiled teenager."
"And you're the one who
couldn't wait to kiss the first were that showed you a little attention."
I balled my fists in anger.
"How dare you? Now I'm a whore?"
"If the shoe fits."
"God damn it,
Jack!" I said, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. "It was one
kiss. One stupid kiss that lasted less than a minute."
"I don't care if it was
a second or a lifetime," he said hotly.
"So that's it," I
said slowly. "We're done?"
Jack moved to the edge of the
bed and sat down with a sigh.
I scooted down to the edge of
the bed, side to side. "I'm so sorry, Jack." I reached out and
touched his thigh. "I'm so sorry."
He slid over, out of my
touch. "I didn't come over to relieve your guilty conscience. I have
news."
I let my head drop to my
hands. "I don't think I can handle-"
"Barius is dead,"
he said flatly. "Foul play. And he claimed he had a name for me before he
was..." Jack paused, making a face. "Incinerated."
The whole "kill it with
fire" thing is not just a nifty meme but a pretty damn effective technique
when dealing with most supernaturals. The problem is not a whole lot of them
just sit idly by as they're barbecued.
I shrugged, rolling a twist
of hair around my finger. "No biggie. My Trial is tomorrow and I have no
idea who's framing me. But I have a killer dress to wear. It's kinda ironic.
And cyclical and all that. My great great great great whatever wore it when
they swung her from a tree and now I'm gonna wear it when I'm beheaded. Or set
on fire. Whichever tickles The Watchers’ fancy.”
Jack turned to me, his eyes
searching mine. "Since when do you just lie down and die? What happened to
the fighter?"
I pushed off the bed and
knelt down to grab my pants. "I'm out of time, Jack. Unless you have some
sort of miracle-"
"Miracle-ish," he
cut in. "A succubus. Who saw who offed Barius."
"A succubus?" I
repeated. "The bloodthirsty, manipulative power suckers? That's your
miracle plan?"
"It's better than
nothing."
"The word of a succubus
is about as effective as a lie detector."
"Gods damn it,
Jade!" he snapped, his green eyes flashing dangerously. "If you won't
fight for yourself-" he stopped, collecting himself. "I'm not going
to just stop trying. If she can help, give us anything useful, then we're going
to hear what she has to say. Period."
"Why do you care?"
I said stubbornly, jutting my lip out.
He scoffed. "I'm not the
one that forgot they had a significant other."
Ouch.
He snapped off the bed,
angling toward the door. "So we're going to see her. I've already
contacted her and she's willing to give us some time before she hunts."
"I-"
"I'm not taking no for
an answer." He didn't even bother to look at me before pushing out the
door. "I'll wait for you in the living room."
I gazed at the closed door
and the heavy silence he left behind. I wanted to run back in the living room,
tell Mom to get lost for the night, then spend it with Jack and I screwing each
other's brains out. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up and inhale
the pillows, the sheets, and my skin, breathing in his intoxicating scent.
But I screwed up.
If I marched into the living
room and told Jack it was go time, he'd probably roll his eyes. Or worse...he'd
look at me like he had a few minutes ago, hurt and disappointed.
With the clock ticking, I
didn't want to stare into the barrel of the gun without squaring things with
him. Or at least explaining the kiss, so he didn't think I betrayed his trust
for just any were.
I applied a quick swipe of
chapstick and grabbed my purse. I'd talk to him about Riley on the way to
Chapel Hill to meet the succubus. I'd make him understand.
I came out of my bedroom.
"Alright, I'm ready to-" I eyed my mother, who was pulling on her
blazer. Like she was going somewhere. "Where are you headed, Mom?"
"To Chapel Hill, of
course," she said as if it was obvious.
I shot a 'help me out' glance
at Jack, but his steely eyes were on his cell. This was my last chance.
"So, are we heading
out?" Mom said brightly, grabbing the door knob.
"So, uh, Jack," I
said loudly. "It's going to be the three of us?"
He shrugged.
"Whatever."
I stewed all the way down in
the elevator, stomped down to the parking garage, and let out an annoyed sigh
when Jack unlocked his Camaro.
"Are you quite alright,
Jade?" Mom asked sweetly.
"I'm just swell," I
said, forcing a smile.