Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I woke up in my bed, the soft cotton sheets enveloping me like a tender embrace, but they couldn't take away the uncertainty lodged deep in my soul. The situation with Shannon had been a welcome distraction, giving me something other than my own troubles to focus on. But now that she was okay, there was no avoiding the issue that loomed over my life like a dark cloud.

I hadn't told Spencer, but I suspected I was the target. Clark had had ample opportunity to drug Kacey at school, and it hadn't happened. My daughter was blissfully devoted to her new boyfriend, her eyes shining with the kind of happiness that only comes with first love. Despite my concerns, I couldn't shake the feeling that his interest wasn't entirely genuine.

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool beneath my feet, grounding me in the reality of the morning. I stood up, my body moving on autopilot, and made my way to the bathroom.

I turned on the hot water, the steam rising up and filling the room, creating a cocoon of warmth. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the fog gradually obscuring my features, making me look like a ghost of myself. The uncertainty was there, in my eyes, in the lines etched into my face from nights spent worrying.

My attacker's actions had set off a chain of events that I couldn't ignore. He had targeted me, and in doing so, had inadvertently dragged my daughter into a web of deceit. Kacey's newfound love felt tainted, a reminder of the dangers lurking just beneath the surface of our supernatural lives.

I splashed my face with the hot water, hoping to wash away the doubts and fears, if only for a moment. The water scalded my skin, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the turmoil within. I needed clarity, a way to protect Kacey and confront the truth.

Stepping back from the sink, I took a deep breath, the steam enveloping me like a second skin. This was my life now, a constant battle against unseen threats and hidden dangers. And as much as I wanted to shield Kacey from it all, I knew I couldn't keep her in the dark forever.

I dried my face and looked at myself in the mirror once more. The reflection staring back at me was determined, resolved. I had to face this head-on, for Kacey's sake and for mine. The uncertainty would be there, lingering like a shadow, but I couldn't let it paralyze me. There was too much at stake.

My thoughts turned to Spencer and the uncertainty in his eyes before he kissed me and left. The longing in his eyes had been unmistakable, but he had kept his word and left. My hair hung in clumps, and I went to the shower and adjusted the water before taking off my nightie.

I tested the temperature of the water, waiting for it to reach the perfect warmth before stepping into the shower. As the hot water cascaded down my skin, it felt almost purifying, as if it could wash away my sins and the burdens I carried. The steam enveloped me, creating a cocoon of solace that I desperately needed.

It was ironic that it was Spencer I felt I had let down. He had his own share of failings, but he had been forced into becoming a vampire, thrust into a life he never asked for. And I hadn't given him any room for error, expecting him to navigate the impossible transition flawlessly.

How would I have handled it if our roles were reversed? The question lingered, heavy and unyielding. I already knew the answer. Spencer would have stood by me, no matter what. His loyalty, his love, would have been unwavering. He had always been the steadier one, the rock I could lean on. And now, in his time of need, I had faltered, holding him to a standard that was impossible to attain.

The water streamed over me, each droplet a reminder of the guilt that weighed on my conscience. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my bones, trying to imagine a way forward. Spencer's struggle wasn't just his own; it was ours. I had to find a way to support him, to be there for him as he had always been for me. Whether or not we remained married.

The reality of our situation was harsh, unrelenting. But standing in the shower, the water rushing over me, I felt a flicker of hope. We had faced so much together, endured trials that would have broken lesser bonds. This was just another challenge, another test of our strength and commitment.

I took a deep breath, the steam filling my lungs, and resolved to do better. To be better. For Spencer, for us. The water couldn't wash away all my sins, but it could offer a moment of clarity, a brief respite from the storm.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling a sense of renewed determination. Hoping my husband and I could find our way one step at a time.

After drying off, I went to my dresser and pulled on a pair of soft jeans, the fabric comforting against my skin, and slipped into a thin sweater that felt like a second skin. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow around the room. I needed that warmth, that sense of normalcy, even if just for a moment.

Heading downstairs, the familiar creaks of the house greeted me, settling into the new day. As I reached the kitchen, I saw Kacey placing her backpack on the table, her movements quick and efficient. She was already dressed, her jacket zipped up and her shoes laced, ready to face the day.

"Kacey," I called out softly, watching as she turned to face me, her eyes bright and full of energy.

"Morning, Mom," she replied with a smile, her youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the weight I carried.

I walked over to her, my heart swelling with a mix of love and concern. She was growing up so fast, navigating her own world of school and friends, yet unaware of the darker currents that flowed beneath the surface of our lives.

"Did you eat already?" I asked, smoothing a stray hair from her forehead.

She shook her head, her eyes glancing toward the clock. "No, I am having breakfast with Clark and our theater group. I asked Dad last night. He spoke with my drama teacher and said it was okay."

I watched her move, the ease with which she managed her routine. It was a small comfort, seeing her so grounded and focused, even if I worried about the undercurrents she couldn't see. Spencer hadn't known about my concerns when he agreed to let her go with Clark, but it was a school function, so he likely would have let her go anyway.

As she grabbed her lunch from the fridge, I couldn't help but think about how much I wanted to protect her, to shield her from the complexities of our world. But I also knew I had to prepare her to make sure she was ready to face the realities of being a relic hunter and guardian.

"How is Clark doing?" I asked in a conversational tone.

Kacey's eyes lit up. "He is amazing. Every university he has applied to has accepted him and he isn't even a senior. He is so smart, funny, and kind. We are volunteering at the animal shelter next week. I'm hoping we can get a weekly gig. You know how much I love animals."

I had been meaning to get Kacey another cat. Ours had died of old age a month before we moved back to Ravenholde, but with everything that had happened with Spencer I had put that decision on the back burner.

Kacey looked back at me, a question in her eyes. "Are you okay, Mom?"

I forced a smile, nodding. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just thinking about how proud I am of you."

She smiled back, a radiant beam that lit up the room. "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you after school."

I watched her head toward the door, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She was so full of life, so ready to take on the world, and I vowed to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

"Have a good day," I called after her, my voice steady even as my heart ached with the weight of unspoken worries.

As the door closed behind her, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead.

I moved through the kitchen, my actions almost robotic as I prepared breakfast. I reached for a bagel, slicing it with precision, and popping it into the toaster. The hum of the machine was a familiar backdrop, but my mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of Marco Madison and his son.

As the bagel toasted, I grabbed the cream cheese from the fridge, spreading it smoothly over the warm surface once it was ready. The motions were automatic, muscle memory guiding me through the necessary tasks. I set the bagel on a plate and turned my attention to the coffeemaker, the rich aroma filling the kitchen as the machine gurgled to life.

Marco Madison. His name echoed in my thoughts, a persistent reminder of the unresolved issues that lingered just beneath the surface. His son was another enigma, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit into the picture. What was their connection to all of this? What were their true intentions?

I poured myself a cup of coffee, the dark liquid swirling with potential and uncertainty. Taking a sip, I let the warmth seep into me, trying to ground myself in the present. But the questions remained, hovering at the edge of my consciousness.

Why had Marco reappeared now, and what role did his son play in the intricate web of our lives? There was something there, a thread I needed to follow, but shadows and half-truths obscured the path. I couldn't shake the feeling that they were more involved than they let on, that their presence was no coincidence.

I sat at the kitchen table, the bagel and coffee in front of me, untouched. The routine comforts did little. As I forced myself to take a bite of the bagel, I resolved to find answers. The situation with Shannon had been a distraction, but now I needed to focus on the other pieces of the puzzle. I was sure Marco Madison was a key player, and it was time to uncover his true motives.

The day stretched out before me, full of unknowns and potential revelations. I took another sip of coffee, feeling the caffeine kick-start my resolve. I finished most of my bagel and headed down to the vault, stopping when I stood in front of the book on the pedestal. The Chronicle of the Guardians lay open to the last page I had used, and the room hummed with power as soon as I entered.

I placed my hand on the ancient book, the leather worn smooth by countless hands over the centuries. The faint smell of old paper and ink filled the air, mingling with the scent of candle wax. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me like a heavy cloak.

"Mother," I called out, my voice steady despite the nerves twisting in my gut. "I need you."

The lights in the room flickered, a shiver running through the air as if the very fabric of reality trembled in response. I tightened my grip on the book, feeling its power resonate through my fingers. The temperature dropped, a chill seeping into my bones as the atmosphere thickened with anticipation.

From the center of the room, a soft glow began to form, tendrils of light rising from the floor like mist. I stood immobile as the glow intensified, taking shape before my eyes. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, my mother's spectral form emerged from the swirling light, her features becoming clearer with each passing moment.

Her eyes, so familiar and yet so distant, locked onto mine as her body solidified, the ethereal glow giving way to the more tangible form of her corporeal presence. She stood before me, a vision from beyond, as real as the memories I held of her.

"Mother," I whispered, my heart aching with a mix of longing and relief. Despite our turmoil in life, I knew she would never abandon me. That she would do anything to help me and Kacey.

"My daughter," she replied, her voice like a melody from a forgotten dream. "Why have you called on me?"

I struggled to find the right words, the enormity of the situation weighing heavily on my shoulders. "I need your guidance," I said finally, my voice breaking. "There is a threat to me or Kacey. Maybe both. I don't know where to turn."

She reached out, her hand hovering just above mine, the warmth of her presence a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in the room. "You have always been strong," she said gently. "But even the strongest need help, Tegan. Tell me what threatens you."

Tears welled up in my eyes, the emotions I had kept at bay flooding to the surface. With her here, I felt a glimmer of hope, a possibility that we could navigate the darkness together. She had always been my anchor, my guide, and now, even in death, she was here for me.

The room seemed to pulse with energy, the bond between us strengthening with each passing second. I knew this moment was fleeting, that our time together was limited, but for now, I let myself believe that anything was possible.

"I was drugged, but am unsure if it was meant for me or Kacey. I wish to use the Temporal Echo to determine the source of the drug. I can't trace the hourglass because it is shrouded like all the others, and I need your help to find it."

My mother stared at me for some time as if debating her answer. "There is only one person who can cut through a shroud like the one you describe. There is an artifact she can use, but only a coven necromancer can activate it."

My jaw dropped. "A coven necromancer does not exist. They exist in the fae realm only."

"They originate there, but the fae have taken human lovers in the past and their gifts have been spread within the empowered and human bloodlines."

I blinked several times, knowing my mother would never lie. Could a ghost be wrong? "How would I find a coven necromancer if one exists?"

"She exists and is close. I can feel her, but her soul is shrouded from me. She has traveled to our town recently and I suggest you find her before she leaves."

"I will."

"Be warned, my daughter. She is of the light, but overuse of her gift can have dark consequences. The majority of her kind do not stay on the path of the light."

"Why would they turn dark?" I asked.

"Their gift is a dark one and rife with temptation. If you ask her to help you, know that you must take responsibility for her and assist in her recovery afterward."

"They use their gifts for nefarious means?" I asked. Unsure what my mother meant.

"They don't mean to. Necro magic is like offering an alcoholic a drink. The power of the necromancer is highly addictive. Once they give in, their covens ostracize and kill them. Most leaders feel a necro is doomed the moment he or she is born. That it is only a matter of time before they turn against their own."

How had I not known this? Why wouldn't this have come up in my training? My mother continued to keep things from me and kept me on a need-to-know basis. The question was if it was for my own good or hers.

"You said you can feel her. Can you give me a general location?"

"Only that she is in Ravenholde. Her power is similar in some ways to ours, but different in others. All I can say is she is close."

"Tell me about your powers. Why can't I feel this necromancer?"

My mother moved, and her dress seemed to move in an invisible wind. "My powers are different in death than they were in life. I am your guide and connection to our ancestors. This power allows me certain insights I did not possess in life. The necromancer is an enigma, but she is not dark. At least not yet."

"Can you foresee the future?" I asked.

"No. The veil reveals certain truths, and I have full access to anything with the vault. These artifacts strengthen our connection, but while they reside elsewhere, my power is more limited."

I nodded. "Even if I find this necromancer, how can she break the wards around the artifacts?"

My mother's form went still. "There is something inside the vault that can help you."

I glanced at the few artifacts I had collected after the heist. There was nothing unfamiliar and nothing connected to the dead. "What?"