CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My brain was working overtime to make sense of Serena’s words, but it all seemed so nonsensical. I half expected someone to jump out from behind the sofa and announce I was on one of those hidden camera shows. Please let this be some sick joke.
Beside me, Serena was pacing back and forth. She had her tarot deck clutched in her hands, and her eyes kept darting between me and the tower card still lying faceup on the table.
“Why my mom?” It was the easiest of the questions to ask. “There have to be hundreds of . . . witches in the world, right?” I nearly choked on the word. “Why would someone target my mother?”
Serena took a deep breath as if to steel herself. “Your mother was the last living descendant of one of the most powerful lines of witches our kind has ever seen. Your mother was targeted because of the blood that flows through her veins—and yours—because she was a DuCarmont witch.”
“DuCarmont?” My tongue was like sandpaper. “But my mother’s maiden name was . . .” The lump had formed in my throat again. “Is it all a lie, then? Everything I’ve ever known about my family?”
Serena’s eyes brimmed with tears as she leaned over to grip my hand. “No, not everything. Your mother and father loved you very much.”
“What about my dad? Was he some kind of witch too?”
“No,” Serena answered, a slight smile at the corner of her lips. “He was entirely human and a wonderful man. Your mother never told him about who she was. The DuCarmonts had been all but eradicated, and as the last remaining DuCarmont still alive, she was forced into hiding. She thought it was best to keep your father in the dark—better to protect him that way.”
I felt a strong kinship with the father I barely remembered. “At least I’m not the only one that was lied to.” Serena winced at the rancor in my voice.
If it wasn’t bad enough that Gareth has been lying to me my entire life, now it seemed that everything I knew about my own mother was also a lie. I had only a few memories of my mom, but now even those I did have felt tainted, as if the warm smile and the melodious sound of a lullaby I remembered weren’t even real.
An unfamiliar emotion surged through me, threatening to break me in half: betrayal. The ache of it resonated in my bones, and it was only the notion that my father had also been left in the dark that kept me from completely erupting in the middle of Serena’s store.
“Was my father murdered, too?”
“He was killed in a car accident. Although your mother had suspicions that the crash that killed your father was somehow meant for her—orchestrated by those who wanted to kill her, of course. She could never prove it, though.”
A different kind of ache rippled through my chest as I thought of my dad. My brain offered up a fuzzy mental picture of his face, full of kindness with warm brown eyes and a thick beard. Another tear rolled down my cheek. “So, who are these people?”
“I’m not sure the ’who’ is important just now.” Serena’s voice was flat. “It’s the ’why’ that matters.”
“Okay, then. Tell me about the DuCarmonts,” I said, swaying a little as the vertigo threatened to reappear. “Tell me about my family.”
Serena stood up and crossed to the bookshelf on the far wall. She pulled a large, old-looking book from the shelf and began to flip carefully through the pages. When she found the appropriate page, she handed the book over to me. The page was open to a spread of antique photographs.
I eyed the photographs, not understanding, but then I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
There was a picture of a grand plantation with wide columns and a wraparound porch staring back at me. A family stood in front of the house. I recognized the house—I’d watched it burn. I leaned closer, taking in the images of the family. Two women, one older and one younger, with light-colored hair, stood side by side, wearing long dresses with wide hoopskirts. Their likeness was uncanny—clearly mother and daughter. But it was the other people in the picture who nearly stopped my heart.
There was a man with his arm wrapped around another young woman at his side. The man was wearing a long overcoat, and though the photograph was black-and-white, I knew the coat was green. The woman next to him had long dark hair that tumbled across her shoulders in waves. I’d know that face anywhere.
“Josephine,” I whispered.
“You know her?” Serena was confused. “You know the woman in the picture?”
As if I needed confirmation, there was a tiny caption underneath the photograph penciled carefully by a steady hand. The DuCarmont Family, 1860.
I nodded. “Josephine . . . DuCarmont.” I turned to Serena with wide eyes. “That means . . .”
“Yes,” Serena finished. “Josephine DuCarmont is your ancestor.”
It was as if someone had punched me in the stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs. Several seconds passed before I was able to suck down a mouthful of air.
Serena looked perplexed. “Lainey, how do you know her?”
In answer, I pushed up the sleeve of my shirt. The handprint was almost gone, but the faint outline of her fingertips was still visible. “The first time I saw her, she left me this.”
Serena’s face was already pale, but the last bit of color drained away. “Of course. I should have known.” She reached out and touched the lines on my skin, then jerked her hand back like it was on fire. “Magic always leaves a mark,” she intoned, her voice eerily quiet.
“What?”
“It’s like a fingerprint. The more powerful the magic, the more potent the mark.” Serena’s eyes were wide, almost reverent. “Josephine DuCarmont was one of the most powerful witches of all time.” She stared at me.
“But what does it mean?” I pulled my sleeve back down.
Serena pursed her lips. I could see an internal debate going on in her head. Finally, she let out the breath she had been holding. “I believe she . . . established a Continuance.”
“A Continuance?”
“It’s like a bond, or a link, between the two of you. She’s trying to communicate.”
“Josephine just wants to talk to me?” I recalled the pain that had lanced through my body at her touch. “She could’ve just sent a text.”
“Lainey, you don’t understand. It is exceedingly rare for a witch to perform a Continuance from the other side. A link forged through the veil can only be created by channeling enormous amounts of energy, and sustaining it requires tremendous power from both parties.”
“But why create a link in the first place?”
“There’s only one reason I can think of.” Serena swallowed. “You’re in danger.”
Those three little words echoed in my ears. I shivered, feeling the branches of the tree slithering across my skin. I nodded slowly. “I almost died tonight.”
Serena gasped, but before she could ask questions, I told her of how the tree in the graveyard had attacked me.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I said, “but it happened. I don’t know how or why, but—”
“It was a dryad.” Serena’s face was still pallid, but she spoke with certainty. “A tree spirit.”
“A tree . . . spirit.” I swallowed. All I knew about dryads was what I remembered from a Greek mythology book I’d read a few years ago. “Aren’t they supposed to be . . . nice?” I swallowed again, feeling both confused and ridiculous for asking.
Serena shook her head. “Not all of them—that’s like asking if humans are nice. It depends on where their loyalties lie.”
“Oh,” I said, though the answer made little sense to me. “Well, I think Josephine saved me. There was a flash of green light right before the tree dropped me. Afterward, my eyes looked like this.
“Yes . . . green eyes,” Serena said, her knowing eyes staring into my mine. “Oh Lainey, do you know what this means?”
“Oh yeah, of course.” I rolled my eyes.
Serena’s eyes were closed, and she looked as if she were going to cry. “The cloaking spells aren’t working anymore.” She looked at me, tears brimming in her eyes. “Oh God, I told Gareth!”
The hysteria on her face made my heart race. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s called the Awakening,” Serena began, her tone resembling that of a teacher giving an important lecture. “Although witches are born with their powers, they don’t manifest until the witch is grown—usually around one’s seventeenth birthday. There are rare cases, though, of premature witches being able to perform small feats of magic. We call them pulses.”
“And these pulses?” I said, trying to grasp the situation. “They’re bad?”
Serena’s lower lip was trembling when she spoke, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Powerful magic attracts attention.”
“And these pulses are coming from me?”
Serena nodded gravely. “You are your mother’s daughter.”
I swallowed. “So the tree was feeding off my . . . my magic?”
“I believe so, yes.”
My chest was starting to tighten. I sat down on the edge of the couch and tried to take a few deep breaths.
“And it wasn’t Josephine who saved you.” Serena knelt down in front of me. “It would be almost impossible for her to perform that kind of magic from the other side. No, I think it was you, Lainey.” She pointed to my eyes. “Magic always leaves a mark.”
I tried to speak, but the words were stuck in my throat.
“Gareth and I have been cloaking you your entire life, using magic to hide the pull of your power. But you’re getting stronger, Lainey. The spells . . . they’re failing. If Josephine has linked the two of you, it must mean she’s trying to warn you.” Her eyes flitted once again to the tarot card lying faceup on the table. “You’re in terrible danger.”
The words made me shiver. “You’re psychic, right? Can’t you look into your crystal ball or something? Give me something more concrete than that?”
“I’m a Seer, but my Sight doesn’t work that way,” Serena argued. “I’m afraid modern entertainment has painted a rather unrealistic portrait of my abilities. I can’t just tap into people’s lives and see what I want to see. I see flashes, things that will come to pass or might merely be a glimpse of what could be. And magic also distorts my Sight—it’s very susceptible to spells and charms. Even protection wards.” She indicated me. “It’s all very subjective.”
“Then what good is a Seer?” I seethed. Anger boiled under my skin until it exploded through me. “You say you knew my mother, that she was your friend. Did it ever occur to you that maybe her daughter deserved better than a life full of lies?”
Serena winced as though she’d been struck.
I wanted to keep yelling. I wanted to throw things and scream at the top of my lungs, but as quickly as it’d come, the fire leaked out of me. My entire face crumpled as the anger gave way to something much deeper. “You’re the closest thing I have to a mother anymore. Didn’t you think I deserved to know the truth?”
Serena didn’t bother wiping the tears that streaked down her cheeks. She stared at me with eyes that were full of guilt as she struggled to respond. “Lainey, I wanted to, but Gareth . . .” She trailed off and looked miserably down at her lap. Tears fell from her cheeks and made tiny wet spots on the fabric of her skirt. After a few moments, she looked back at me, the remorse in her eyes clear. “You’re right. We should’ve told you. But you have to understand, we’ve only ever tried to protect you.”
I nodded and tried to take the words to heart, but when Serena tried to wrap a comforting arm around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but pull away. I knew Serena’s words were genuine, but the betrayal I felt still burned around the edges. “No more lies, okay?”
Serena nodded her head gravely. “I promise.”
I turned my attention back to the book in my lap, focusing once more on Josephine’s smiling face. “So what happens now?”
Serena stood up from the couch and ran her fingers anxiously through her hair. “That part, I don’t know. This is practically unprecedented, and I’m no expert on witches.”
“Well, Gareth will know what to do, right? I mean, he’s my uncle, so that makes him a witch, too—or rather a warlock.”
Serena’s eyes darted around the room, her shoulders tense. But almost immediately, she relaxed her posture and looked at me with a knowing smile. “Yes, you’re right. Gareth will know what to do.”
I closed the book and stood up, wiping my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Guess I’m just gonna have to talk to him, then.” A feeling of dread washed over me at the thought of confronting him.
“In the meantime,” Serena interrupted my thoughts, “please be careful. Don’t attempt anything foolish.”
“Oh, right, my powers.” I looked down at my hands and laughed—the alternative was to succumb to the panic that gnawed at the back of my mind and burst into tears. “Don’t worry. If I have the sudden urge to yell ‘Expelliarmus!’ at passersby, I’ll try to refrain.”
It was a terrible attempt at a joke, and Serena didn’t laugh. “I’m serious, Lainey. Don’t do anything stupid. There are eyes everywhere.”
Serena’s words knocked the smile right off my face. If anyone finds out about you, you’re likely to share her fate.
I gulped. “What do I do?” I held out my hands away from my body, afraid magic might start shooting from my fingertips.
“First of all, don’t panic,” Serena answered. “That will only make things worse.”
My head was beginning to throb, and I wasn’t sure if it was the massive brain overload or my body going into shock. I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’m going to keep consulting the cards,” Serena continued. “See if there’s anything I missed and reach out to some fellow Seers. Something is going on, I can feel it. Go home, now. You need to talk to Gareth.”
I nodded. I was suddenly exhausted in every possible way. All I wanted was to sleep until the world made sense again.
Practically in a daze, I shuffled over to where Ty and Maggie were standing stiffly by the bookcases. Maggie looked as overwhelmed as I felt; Ty’s face was unreadable. His shoulders were tense. He had his hands intertwined behind his neck, and his eyes were trained on the ground.
“You guys ready?”
Maggie nodded and Ty looked up, his strained eyes softening. “Yeah, let’s go.”
“Just a second, young man,” Serena called as they headed for the door. “A word, please.”
Ty muttered something under his breath and then jogged back to where Serena was standing.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Maggie asked, watching as Serena and Ty spoke in hushed tones.
“I’m too overwhelmed to even guess,” I said. I swayed a little, leaning on Maggie for support.
“Well, whatever it is, he doesn’t look happy,” Maggie observed.
Ty said good-bye to Serena and made his way back toward us. “It was nothing,” he said in answer to our expectant faces. “Something she saw in my aura or whatever.” He waved his hand in dismissal and pushed open the door to the shop.
I took one last look at Serena, who was already hunched over her tarot cards, and followed Ty out into the bright sunlight.
The car ride to my house was quiet, but I was grateful for the silence. Now that the adrenaline from everything that had happened had drained away, I was physically and emotionally spent. I doubted that I could’ve carried on much of a conversation even if I’d wanted to.
Maggie was passed out in the backseat, and I was having a hard time keeping my own eyelids from drooping. The radio was playing softly in the background, and as I stared out the window, I tried to not to think about anything other than the reassuring pressure of Ty’s hand holding mine.
It wasn’t long before he pulled the car into my driveway.
I glanced at the clock on the dash. It was a little after eleven in the morning. Gareth’s truck was missing from its spot in the driveway, and I was relieved. I wasn’t ready to face that conversation just yet.
“Thank you for the ride home.” I turned to Ty. “And . . . for everything else, too.”
Ty inclined his head. “Anytime.”
I gently shook Maggie’ shoulder, waking her. “I’m leaving, Mags.”
She sat up, looking bedraggled. “I’ll call you soon.”
I opened the car door and managed to keep myself upright long enough to unlock the front door and stumble inside. I gave a small wave to Maggie and Ty as he backed his car out of the driveway, and then I turned and fumbled up the stairs toward my room.
Sinking down onto my bed, I shrugged off my clothes and pulled my favorite worn sleep shirt over my head. The picture of my parents, of my mother wearing Josephine’s necklace, stared at me from the bedside table. I’d forgotten to ask Serena about the necklace.
There’s still so much I don’t understand.
An invisible hand wrapped around my heart and squeezed until I was sure it would break, the smiling faces of my parents as the only witnesses.
With one hand clutching at my chest, I pulled the comforter over my head, blocking out the world.