Shattered Souls, Page 2

  “No you didn’t and you like it,” I laughed. “Now help with the groceries while I fill you in. It was kind of fun, actually.”

  He shook his head. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “On a serious note, though, the Praedivinus are just going to keep picking members off one by one. I got these two out alive, but who knows if I’ll be that lucky next time.”

  “I don’t want there to be a next time,” he replied, slamming the car door. I watched him take off toward the front door and realized there was a lot more going on inside of him than just my latest excursion.

  Chapter 2

  “Are you doing okay?” Logan whispered. “I didn’t mean —”

  “I know,” I interrupted him. “I can only imagine how aggravating it must be to know what my fate is, and yet I seem so unwilling to…”

  “Quit being stubborn?” he replied, his voice on the verge of playfulness but held hostage by our unknown fate. I felt his beautiful, blue eyes burning into me. “But, really, are you doing okay after everything?” he asked again.

  I looked up at him through my lashes and nodded. The spell books from the coven and our cottage were spread out on the floor as I searched for anything I might have missed before. I’d been at it for an hour and had already found several things that might be helpful. Or not. I was in somewhat of a trance, but I had to keep busy. We’d been on the run for so long that this was the first time where I felt I could regroup back in my home.

  “I think I am,” I answered. “Everything has gone so fast. It’s kind of hard to believe we’ve gotten to this point. I know we’re far from calm, but somehow things feel less… dreadful. Like there’s hope.”

  Logan came over and knelt next to me, touching my cheek softly. “I’d say your father had a lot to do with that.”

  I nodded, pushing back the wave of sadness.

  He was right. My father did the one thing I never expected. He sacrificed himself to save me, allowing us to continue our hunt to stop the Praedivinus Order’s rampage.

  “I think my mom’s going to be moving back to the house soon,” I said, organizing some of the papers that I wanted to research further.

  “That’s good news,” he said, standing up. He walked to the overstuffed chair and sat down. I detected a slight hesitation in his voice, but I wasn’t sure why.

  “Isn’t it?” I asked, smiling.

  He nodded, and our eyes connected. “You think she’s ready to—”

  “Be on her own?” I interrupted, twisting my mouth. The same worry had crossed my mind as well, but she has to give it a try at some point. She didn’t take the death of my father well. But who really would? Her response gave me hope. While she was under the Altered spell, she would’ve been numb to the whole thing. The fact that she now had a reaction to events was actually a good thing.

  “Yeah…” his voice trailed off.

  I took in a deep breath and nodded. “You know… I think she is. I think it’ll be good for her to get involved with the flower shop again. I know working back at the apothecary shop has helped my aunt.”

  “So you don’t think she’ll try to get too involved with everything that’s going on, do you?” His blue eyes fell to the floor where I began piling the books and papers. “I’m not sure she’s ready for that yet.”

  “I think we can only take things as they come. One day at a time. I haven’t told her anything yet that would interfere with her recovery, and I intend to keep it that way,” I said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he replied. His eyes darted across the room in an overly jumpy manner. Something was definitely distracting him.

  “My mom’s been thinking about moving out here, at least temporarily,” he said quietly, bringing his attention back to me.

  “Really? That would be awesome.”

  “I thought so too.” He nodded, still looking a little tense.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to shake the blood back into my feet as I stood up. “I feel like something’s bothering you.”

  “No. Everything’s cool.” He shifted back in the chair.

  Realizing I wasn’t going to get anywhere with a simple line of questioning, I shifted my focus.

  “Do you know much about solitary practitioners?” I asked. “I’ve found several mentions of them and I’m kind of curious…”

  He smiled and his eyes glimmered. “It depends on the context, but I know of them. They tend to have specialties that others in our world don’t have. Actually, if you hadn’t been born into the Witch Avenue Coven you probably would’ve been one.”

  “Really? Right about now that sounds kind of nice.”

  “What other kinds of things did you come across?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “A lot of this stuff didn’t mean much before because we didn’t know the context,” I began.

  “And now that we’ve been through certain situations it makes more sense,” he finished my sentence, warming me up inside.

  Not the time to get distracted, Triss!

  “The fact that there’s material about certain scenarios that have started to play out is pretty freaky. I don’t know whether to take it as our ancestors being prepared for the worst or actually predicting the future.” Feeling a chill build in the room, I flicked my wrist toward the pile of wood sitting in our fireplace and watched the flames ignite.

  “Getting pretty good at that,” Logan said, smiling.

  “I’m getting to be pretty useful,” I teased. “So I want to show you some of the items I’m talking about, and you can tell me if it’s just me reading too much into things or if I’m on the right track,” I told him.” But I’m starving, and I’ve got an awesome dinner planned for us.”

  “You’re cooking?” he asked, pleasantly surprised.

  “I am. I’m feeling more and more like my old self, not so stressed out.” I walked over to him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before heading to the kitchen.

  “I can’t wait,” Logan said, grabbing one of the spell books off the floor.

  “Let’s pray it turns out because I’m beyond hungry,” I said.

  “So what is it, anyway?”

  “It’s a surprise, but the one clue is that it’s a theme dinner. I got all the recipes online,” I answered, flashing him one last smile before I disappeared from his sight.

  I rubbed my hands together, hoping to warm up as I slowly walked through the kitchen. I turned on the oven, and I grabbed one of the frilly aprons off the wall hanger, pulling the polka dot number over my head. Let the cooking begin! I grabbed the bright orange Le Creuset pot and dumped in our homemade canned tomato sauce, cumin, garlic, chili powder and onion, bringing it to a simmer. My mind drifted off to my mom as I realized how close I was to having her back— like really back— in her unaltered state. Even having something as simple as the apron she made wrapped around me brought me comfort. I let out a large sigh, and then took in a deep breath, letting the smells of the enchilada sauce taunt my growing appetite.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter and took the space in. I hadn’t really let myself do much reflecting lately, but I felt it was okay right now — not so dangerous, and I needed it.

  The herbs my mom and I had gathered and dried were stacked neatly at the far end of the counter in their colorful tins and jars. The various teas were displayed through the cabinet glass with fun names in bright labels that we’d come up with like Berry Blue Mood for my favorite blueberry tea or Lic-A-Blossom that was the best licorice herbal tea ever. All of the wonderful times my mother and I had spent here made me long for her.

  Just to survive, I’d spent so much time pushing away what she’d meant to me that I wasn’t sure I could do it much longer. I needed my mother.

  The red sauce began bubbling and popping over the pot and onto the stove so I turned the flame to low. The sauce was going to be done before I knew it, and I had so much more to prepare. I even had a dessert figured out — flan. I quickly walked to the pan
try and opened the door. The shelves were stuffed full of tinctures and food, a perfect combination.

  I reached on my tiptoes to grab some tortillas off the top shelf when my vision blurred, and I became lightheaded. I leaned against the shelves for support and shook my head, trying to get my bearings, but it wasn’t working. My head ached and I closed my eyes, hoping for relief. It felt like my body was spinning, but I wasn’t moving. The pressure from the shelves digging into my skin slipped away, yet I hadn’t moved my arms. Something was really wrong.

  I opened my eyes to see… nothing. The entire pantry turned to an empty space. Everywhere I looked was dark. The shelves were gone. The walls were gone. And when I looked down at the floor, it was gone. I was hovering, teetering on a slice of something that was invisible as it propped me up in this world my mind created. I wracked my brain for anything that would give me a clue as to why I started hallucinating. That was what this had to be — a hallucination.

  I steadied my breathing and my body, as I slowly balanced my arms in the air concentrating on staying upright. Cold air began whipping around my body with a violent force, making it difficult to stay balanced. I looked down again finding nothing underneath me. I couldn’t let myself fall. My stomach dropped to my toes as if I’d just experienced a close call with an edge of a cliff. This was impossible. I was in my pantry. Where did everything go? I was afraid to move. Like any movement I made would instantly drop me from this precarious location, but I had to find out. And if my mind was playing tricks on me then one step wouldn’t really make me fall into this imaginary hole… because there would be no hole. There was no hole.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, dropping my arms to my side, and took one step forward off the nonexistent platform. I didn’t fall. It really was my mind playing tricks on me. But the wind was still so violent. That couldn’t happen in the pantry. My hair slapped the sides of my face as the gusts continued —this couldn’t be my imagination. I took another step forward into the darkness and another. The rush of emotions and sensations made me dizzier by the moment.

  This had to be more than my mind. A loud gravelly roar began sounding off in the distance, but there shouldn’t be a distance. I’m in a six-by-six foot room.

  Cries began tunneling through the darkness, followed by deep penetrative sounds that vibrated my core. The noises were threatening to wrap themselves around me — inside of me— numbing me to paralysis. I attempted to lift my arm, but it wouldn’t budge. The muscles were working in unison with my mind, but I couldn’t move. My feet were anchored beneath me. I was stuck.

  A disturbing presence spiraled around me, and I could do nothing except keep my eyes wide open, searching for any type of clue as to what it was. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I focused my mind on the nectunt I shared with Logan, hoping to open up our line of communication, but it remained cold — distant.

  Something grabbed my jaw and turned it suddenly to the left but then let go. A light tapping erupted underneath me, but I didn’t understand how that was possible since I was apparently floating— or was I?

  “I am not afraid. I’m not afraid,” I whispered, regretting that I sacrificed any breath as my words escaped.

  When I didn’t think it could be any worse, a pressure began forming in my chest. My breathing became shallow as my body trembled, making each gasp for air almost impossible. I looked down at my chest — heaving with every passing second — as the feeling of suffocation began working its way through the rest of my body, leaving a tingling sensation in every direction. The weightlessness of my extremities began to take over as I focused on saving every ounce of oxygen that I had left. The pendant dangling around my neck began warming slightly.

  “Triss,” a male’s voice beckoned.

  Logan?” I called softly, knowing it wasn’t him but hoping it was.

  “You don’t have much time. The movements are beginning,” the voice continued. “You must stop all who are orchestrating — not just the members. Things aren’t what they seem. Trust no one.”

  “Dad?” I whispered.

  The man ignored my call, “Don’t be fooled but don’t be afraid to reach out for help. There are many who will side with the cause, your cause. You just have to find them. I’ll be providing you with more soon, but I…”

  The voice broke off. A chill running up my spine threatened to shatter each vertebra as I gasped for air. I couldn’t ask questions. I couldn’t respond. I had no more air left in my lungs. The weightlessness of my arms and legs turned to heaviness. A loud pounding surfaced behind me, but there was nothing I could do. I continued to scan the space in front of me, which revealed absolutely no one. I didn’t know what I thought I’d see — a person, a spirit, a Golem — at this point in my life it could be a number of things. I wanted to match the voice with a person, an object, anything other than my imagination.

  “Triss, open up,” Logan shouted from behind me.

  But it was too late. My body crashed to the floor, sending spikes of pain down my spine as my head cracked against the floor, turning my world to darkness.

  Chapter 3

  “She’s coming to,” Logan said. I felt his fingers running along my forehead. The strong smell of pine and rosemary saturated my nostrils.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Aunt Vieta said.

  A light tickle traced my cheeks as Logan removed the handkerchief containing the essential oils that had been draped over my nose and mouth. My eyelids fluttered as I attempted to open my eyes and adjust to the light surrounding me. Logan was sitting next to me, leaning over my body, but his figure was blurry. I could see two others standing behind him. They were in front of the fireplace. Logan must have carried me into the family room.

  “What happened?” I asked. My voice was hoarse, and my throat sore as I attempted to clear it, but it didn’t help. Everything felt strained.

  “I was hoping you’d be able to tell us that,” Logan replied. He sounded exhausted.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked, ignoring the pain in my throat.

  One of the figures stepped forward and leaned over. It was Aunt Vieta. My vision became less blurry and I scanned the person next to her.

  “Mom?” I whispered, seeing my mom’s soft features.

  Comfort wrapped around me just knowing she was close. But then panic set in.

  “Triss, what’s wrong?” Logan asked, bringing his hands to mine.

  “Its… I...” Closing my eyes, I let the earlier sound of the voice run through me. It had been my father, but that wasn’t possible. I sat up quickly and a wave of nausea hit me. Logan slid me against the armrest of the couch as I attempted to flush the sickness away.

  “Is it me?” my mom asked, with hurt filling every syllable.

  “No. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know what happened.” I also knew what I couldn’t say, not now anyway. I had to talk to Logan, alone. “I blacked out or something.”

  Aunt Vieta and my mom traded nervous looks.

  “Logan said you hit your head pretty hard in the pantry,” my mom began.

  I nodded. “I was reaching for tortillas and must have fallen.”

  “You don’t remember?” my aunt questioned, narrowing her eyes.

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it was just my clumsy self. How long have I been out?” I asked again. Hollowness sank into my chest as I realized what might be in store for me.

  “Triss?” my aunt started.

  Logan briefly locked his eyes on mine and tilted his head as if to acknowledge my plea to stop the questioning.

  “Is the enchilada sauce okay?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “It is. I turned it off.” Logan smiled at me. “Veronica, maybe you two could go get it going again.” He turned to look at my mom.

  “We have enough for everyone,” I offered. “You guys don’t have to do it but maybe if someone could help me finish.”

  “Absolutely not. You’re going to rest,” my mom said. “Vi
eta and I can take over.”

  Logan stood up, allowing my mom to slide onto the couch next to me. She gave me a long hug and tapped my back softly with her fingers. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks, mom. I appreciate it.”

  Her hair was piled in a loose bun with two golden sticks poking out. And her eyes held a bit of that spark I grew up with. She really was getting close to her old self again. My mom hopped up and made her way to the kitchen, silently, with my aunt right behind her.

  When I was sure they couldn’t hear, I motioned for Logan to sit next to me.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” I paused, biting my lip, wondering how to ask what I wanted to ask without sounding crazy.

  “You can tell me anything,” he whispered. I felt him watching me, connecting with me in the way that only he could.

  I brought my eyes to meet his, and I was shocked at the intensity we shared with only a glance.

  “The pantry turned into... not a pantry.” I crossed my arms in front of me, and Logan slowly brought his hands to my arms and uncrossed them.

  “You don’t have to be in your defensive mode with me around,” he said.

  “Sorry. It’s a bad habit. I’m just so confused with what I saw, or didn’t see,” I said.

  He sat thoughtfully for a moment, holding my hands in his. A smile came to his lips before he finally spoke. “Do you maybe want to elaborate a little?”

  “How about I show you.” I closed my eyes and thought back to the dark, empty space that I was trapped in, flushing the images and thoughts to Logan through our nectunt. In doing so, feelings of helplessness washed through me. The absolute inability to know what I experienced was channeled to Logan, hoping he could see what I couldn’t.

  “You saw all of that?” he asked.

  “Saw all of what?” I asked confused. As far as I remembered, I saw a whole lot of nothing.