Magick (The Unwanted Series Book 1) (3 page)

“Will it hurt?” I ask.

“No, not at all. Typically, you’ll feel refreshed afterward.”

“My father is aware, you said?”

He nods in confirmation.

“Okay, then let’s get started.”

Dr. Evan stands up and takes something out of his pocket, then pushes the chair closer to the chaise. I put my hands under my legs to steady myself. He’s rocking a flower pendant in his hand and holds its chain loosely. Looking at it closely, I realize it isn’t a flower. It’s an intricate design of wrapping loops and circles, and it has that familiar feeling.

“What is that design?” I ask.

“It’s call a Triquetra, the balance of the mind, body and spirit. A Celtic symbol.”

I repeat, Triquetra and feel a tingle in my leg like it’s falling asleep. I squirm to adjust how I’m sitting.

He begins swinging the pendant. It shimmers under the lights and follows a path of its curving design, where the three like petals intersect and are connected by a circle.

“I want you to listen carefully to my voice and relax, Willow. This is a place of safety.”

My shoulders dip and my body sways. I watch the silver pendant swing back and forth, back and forth.

“Count with me—”

“One, two, three, four…”

Chapter Four

A
t home, I sit in the kitchen at the nook, holding my warm cup of tea. Staring out the windows, I feel at ease but sad for some reason. How can you feel sad about something you can’t remember?

I can’t recount what I said during hypnosis with Dr. Evan; he said it was common. But I should feel a sense of clarity over the next day. He gave me his personal cell number, should I have any questions. When I asked him what I said, he wasn’t straight with me, and I knew it. He asked for patience and said we’d talk more when I could recall for myself more.

Has he worked with many teenagers? Seriously? Asking for patience when I wasn’t all hip to this idea in the first place?!

The back door slams, and I jump in my seat. Mrs. Scott is standing there.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Mrs. Scott hurries by me and heads for the pantry on the other side of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go ahead and clean up? Company will be here shortly.”

“Who is coming over?” I ask.

“Your father didn’t say. I think it’s some distant family member. I get the impression he was surprised, since we didn’t have the event in our calendar.” She pops a cashew in her mouth from the bowl I set on the counter.

“Is he home from the office?” I ask.

“He’s on his way, he had a late afternoon meeting.”

I eat some of the trail mix from the bowl, then head up the back stairs to my room. My door is ajar, and I push it open to find Duke sleeping on my bed.

“Duke, you do realize you have your own bed, right?” He lifts his head and starts to stretch.

My cell phone buzzes in my backpack and Duke is up and out of my room when I retrieve my phone.

Deserter.

I have several texts, and click first on Daniel’s.

Sr camp trip? Didn’t get to talk about it t-day. Headin’ to work will call t-night.

I texted him back to fill him in, then ended with a kiss emoji that had me smiling as I hit send. Why do silly yellow pictures of facial expressions give so much more extra meaning?

The final text was from Lucy:
Sorry about this afternoon. It was just Em, getting on my nerves. I don’t like seeing anyone hurt, even if it is Coral. Gah, shoot me.

I text back:
I get it. You have to admit Coral’s a bitch… oops, I meant Karma.

She replies:
LOL, let’s hope it gives me some slack.

I write back:
Stop worrying.

Then the FaceTime app pops up with Lucy’s grin. Lucy’s in her bedroom, sitting at her desk in the corner of her room by all her books. They’re piled up from the floor like the Eiffel Tower. “Okay, I’m done sulking. What’s going on?”

I tell her about the mysterious dinner that I need to get ready for in half an hour.

Lucy’s eyes open wide, sucking in her breath. “What are you going to wear?”

I smirk, “are you Emily?”

Lucy belts loud laughter at this point. I’m laughing with her. Stress bounds off us both. It takes us almost a full minute to stop laughing. We hang up, and I immediately fret about what to wear.

A closet full of clothes is daunting when you’re not sure what to wear; everything looks wrong. It’s all wrong. Do I dress up for family? The safe bet, I decide, is to put on a pair of nondescript black pants and a typical sweater set. At my dresser, I finish up my routine. I brush my long dark-blonde hair and tuck it behind my ear. The last accessory at my dresser are my earrings, simple pearls that were my mother’s. I’m out the door, heading to the beige and maroon abyss of the designer decorated house. The decorator decided the accent color would be maroon, to represent my father’s commanding place in the world. Of course, over time, I noticed her eyes lingered on my father whenever she was over, and I wanted to yack. Thank god I was able to divert her decorating eyes from my room, where I worked with Mrs. Scott to have bright colors everywhere.

I walk down the hallway, trying to hurry, but when you’re situated at the back of a 10,000 square foot house, it’s difficult to get anywhere quickly. I round the large staircase that gets me to the front of the house. I hear someone talking, then see it’s a woman and my father.

I stop in my tracks, and a vision of her crying flashes before my eyes. It’s gone in an instant with the blink of my eyes. Do I know her?

Her long red hair waves as she turns, and she puts her hands to her mouth. I start down the stairs toward them tentatively.

My father comes to the stairs and says, “I would like to introduce you to your…”

She walks toward me and the stairs. Her eyes are glistening with tears and she says, “I’m your grandmother. Sabine MacKinnon.”

She looks familiar, but she doesn’t look like my mother. Mother was blonde, and I look more like her than Sabine does with that bright red hair. She doesn’t look too much older than my father, to be my grandmother. I realize I’m assessing her and haven’t come off the stairs yet. I step forward to shake her hand but instead get pulled into a hug. It feels awkward and familiar.

“I’ve waited so long, and I’m so sorry,” she says in a whisper.

Why is my heart beating so fast? I can’t comprehend that my grandmother is hugging me right now. I thought she had disowned me, but the details were fuzzy. Father had always clammed up when I asked innocent questions over the years, so I dropped it. Not like anyone from mother’s side of the family ever reached out to me.

Sabine lets go and I move back from her, but she keeps her hands on my forearms. “You look just like our Nuala. Oh, Willow, I’m so happy to finally be back in your life.”

I look at my father, who is tense and standing like an oak tree in the foyer.

“Back in my life?” I question.

Mrs. Scott appears and announces that dinner is ready. My father escorts Sabine to the formal dining room. There is an extra place setting.

“Is someone else joining us?” I ask my father in a tone that is a little more accusatory than I intended.

He sits down while watching Sabine take her seat.

She lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry to say that, no, it’s just me this evening.” She places her hands on her lap and looks at me with crystal blue eyes full of sorrow. “Your grandfather, my husband, Harkin, recently passed away. He wanted to be here. I like to think he is, in some way, here in spirit.”

Sitting next to her, I feel her sadness and want to comfort her. I want to reach out and touch her shoulder or hand, but I don’t know her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” It felt strange as soon as I said it.

It was my loss, too, though. A grandfather I’d never known, already gone. I guess that’s true for many in my family. My father’s parents died when he was younger, too.

“I have something for you.”

Sabine reaches into her flowing skirt pocket and pulls out a rectangular jewelry box.

“It was your mother’s, and I wanted to make sure you had it.”

I look over to my father, and his smile is constrained, but he nods to me.

“Thank you, Sabine.”

I take the velvet jewelry box and open it slowly. The necklace that lays within is similar to what Dr. Evan had used in our session. I’ve seen this necklace before, but this is a little different with more loops.

“A Triquetra,” I whisper.

Sabine corrects me: “It’s the pentacle of the Goddess.”

I touch the pendant and it shimmers under my touch to various colors.

“It’s a rare type of opal—”

Sabine stands up, interrupting my father, and reaches out. “Let’s try it on. Your mother wore this as a teenager. It seems fitting.”

I smile at her, thinking about my mother and how I miss her. I lightly brush my fingers over the necklace and feel the smooth stone embedded in the silver. When I looked over at my father he seems off. I get the impression he isn’t happy to be interrupted by Sabine. Sabine sits down.

The first course is brought to the table and I pick up my spoon to take a sip of the soup. Happily, it’s a simple mushroom broth. Anything too complicated would have me stressed, due to my particular food choices.

The silence is like a fog settling in for the long haul. I break the tension by asking, “So, has this dinner been planned for a while?”

“No, not really,” father says sternly. This seems to get under Sabine’s skin.

“Aiden, you can’t keep Willow hidden from us any longer.” Her voice rises, and she holds authority over my father that’s impressive, since few do.

“I don’t understand,” I say to him, looking back toward Sabine. “I thought it was your decision that you didn’t want me around, because of the accident that killed her.” My voice shakes.

“What? No. No, that’s not true at all—”

“Sabine!” my father exhales. “Willow, I have had rules about the association with your mother’s family since the accident to keep you safe. It was agreed to.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Why would you only tell me now?”

The next course is brought in, and my anger at my father is mounting. I thought that they chose not to know me because I was in part to blame for an accident I don’t remember. Another one of the scars I carry.

A vision flashes before me — my mother and me in an upside-down car. She is hanging by the seatbelt. Her hair is like a mop. I move from the back seat and start to shake her. Someone grabs me to pull me out and mother is reaching for me.

I blink several times and the flash is gone. My vision refocuses on my father. He stares back with pinched lips and waits for Mrs. Scott to exit the dining room.

“I can see you’re angry.”

“Damn right,” I snap. “You’ve been hiding things from me, lying to me!” I scoot from my chair and he rises from his.

“I need a minute.” I walk to the washroom out in the hallway and shut myself inside.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I shake my head. “Okay. You’ve been lied to. Long lost relatives now are in your life. No big deal. Control the controllable. See, Dr. Evan? I can learn.” I shrug and wash my hands. The tingle of the water sizzles and cools my hands and thoughts. When I turn off the water, I hear Sabine and my father talking.

“She needs to know. I can feel the change in the air, and her binding will not last long. The tide of change is here, Aiden regardless if either of you are ready.”

“We have time. This was not a good idea, you coming tonight. I’m not sure how she’s going to react. There are others here to protect her.”

I hear Sabine laughing sarcastically taunting my father. “She can protect herself if you allow her to. You can’t keep this tucked away and run off again. Others are coming, I can feel it. Surely you can too?”

That’s when they both see me standing in the open archway to the formal dining room. “What are you talking about? And before you say ‘nothing,’” I say, pointing my finger at my father, “Know that I’m not stupid.”

Sabine smirks while my father looks like he is ready to ground me for life.

“Willow, you are royalty,” he announces.

I feel the exact opposite of tension filled anger of the room. It’s ridiculous what just came out of his mouth. I double over and laugh, my hands shaking and static electricity running across my fingertips as a faint blue light. The tingle in my arms ignited the familiar feeling from Dr. Evan’s office.

Sabine is wide-eyed with a grin, and father looks worried.

“This is a joke, right? I mean, come on, there isn’t real royalty anymore. I’ve been going to school like any normal kid.”

Okay, normal wealthy kid. Let’s be fair, here.

“You’re descended from an ancient line of druids and Wiccans. And with Harkin’s passing — your grandfather — the crown belongs to you,” Sabine says clasping her hands together. She’s hopeful?

I sit down. I’m recapping what she just said. Pause, rewind, and play again. Is this a joke?

She’s serious and she looks a little troubled. I know that I’m angry but good grief, she doesn’t know me and she just came in and dropped a bomb.

My father sits back in his chair and observes me. I hate that, the parent tactic of sit and listen. What’s the right reaction here? The long-lost grandmother is speaking of craziness, royalty, and witches. Why is everyone calm?

“Let me get this right: you’re here because I’m the next in line for some crown that I’ve never even heard of, about witches?”

My eyebrow shoots up and I withhold my doubt out of respect for a lady who obviously believes this deep down. I look over at my father for some kind of interruption, but he looks just as serious.

I huff at them both and wiggle my fingers in the air. “So I have some kind of magick, then?” As the words leave my lips, the electric tingle runs across my fingers and a faint blue light recedes into my skin. I shut my hand and it’s gone.

WTF?

“What do you call that, then?” My grandmother gestures toward my hand, eyebrows raised.

“Static electricity?” She looks at me, accusatory. “Static electricity does not equal whatever craziness this is!” I say, frustrated.