Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My mother went to bed early, right after Aunt Ciara went home. That was my cue. The rest of us were sitting in the living room, near the fireplace, relaxing. Outside, the wind was howling. A sudden shift brought in a storm that was originally supposed to head through upper Washington, up near the Canadian border. The tree boughs were scraping against the house, and the flames in the fireplace were snapping loudly as wind whistled down the chimney.

I waited for about fifteen minutes after Catharine retired to her bedroom, then softly said, "I'm going to start searching now. Bran, Bree—want to join me?"

May had brought a magical grimoire to show Grams and they were poring over it, sitting together at a corner table. They looked up, waiting.

"You two keep watch and if my mother comes in, distract her, if you would." I still hadn't told Bran about Kyle's response to me, and decided to wait on that. Right now, I wanted to devote time to hunting down that letter, since nobody else was around.

"Will do, but be careful," Grams said.

"You know we will." I led Bree and Bran to my room. "I want to start here, since he specifically mentioned how worried he was for me and how much I meant to him."

"Where's the secret room that he mentioned?" Bran asked.

"I don't know, but given how much I know this house, it has to be in the basement, I think. Or the attic. There's simply no other place for it to be, given the layout. We'll go check for that after we search my room."

My mother had turned part of my bedroom into a crafting room, though she left my bed and dresser. I had left a few scattered possessions, but they weren't important to me. My mother hadn't touched them, though, and they remained on the shelves where I had left them.

"If my father hid a letter in my room, it would have to have remained hidden for twenty-eight years, so it wouldn't be in plain sight or behind furniture. I moved the furniture around several times." I glanced around the twin-size bed that still had the cobalt comforter on it that I had bought when I was seventeen.

"Do you have any crawlspaces, like into the attic? Or a closet that might have a secret panel on the wall?" Bree asked.

I rested my hands on my hips, looking around. I had one closet in the room, a window overlooking the street, and no other entrances or exits that I knew of. "Let's check my closet."

As I opened the door, I expected to see an empty closet, but there were boxes in here—stacked five feet high. Each one was neatly labeled, but they were all my mother's things. I tried to peek behind the stack, but could barely squeeze in with them. We'd have to take every box out to check the closet.

"This sucks. Where else in here could he have left the letter?" I looked around. "There aren't any hidden panels in here, or secret hideaways."

Bran gave me an odd look. "How do you know?"

"I was an imaginative child. I used to ransack my room, looking for portals into other worlds. I wanted nothing more than to escape." I shrugged. "Well, let me think." I sat on the bed and Bree sat beside me.

She looked around. "The room could be pretty, but…"

"It feels empty, right? Even though my mother took over part of it when I left home, this house feels more like a pitstop. Catharine does her best to be out when she can. I think it has too much baggage for her, but she won't listen when I suggest she find a new place—a condo or something that requires less maintenance. She claims she couldn't afford it, but I'm sure she can. I believe she just doesn't want to give up the memories here, even though they make her sad."

Taking a deep breath, I turned to Bran. "Before we move on, I need to tell you that I texted Kyle last night. I told him that I wasn't the one who sent you over. I also told him I wouldn't bother him, but asked him to let me know when Faron was okay. Kyle blocked me, after saying that he would accept my word that I hadn't sent you."

Bran studied the bedspread, holding one end in his hands. "What do you want to do?"

"What can I do? I can't force him to talk to me. He said he'd charge me with trespassing if I showed up. So…I guess I just walk away. When Faron— if Faron—remembers, he can decide what to do at that point. I don't want the elders of his Pack on my back."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good." He hesitated, glancing at Bree. I knew what he wanted to ask.

"Yes, I still want to get married. We can decide on a date over the next month and start planning the wedding. I insist on Grams officiating, though. I've worked it out—if you like, you can move in with me. You'll still be next to May, and yet we'll have our own life. If you want to live with your mother, it's all right, too. I'm pretty forgiving when it comes to things like this."

He smiled. "Good."

"Dude, I love you. I also like you, and we get along. Friendship and love? I'd be a fool to turn away from that. We make a good pair."

Blushing, he said, "Well, where do we go from here?"

"Let's go down and search the basement. I dread doing that—it's probably a mess." I led them through the house, into the kitchen. Fancypants had stayed with Grams and May in the living room. In the kitchen, two doors stood side by side. One led to the attic, the other to the basement. I sighed. I hated basements. I always had. They felt dangerous and I always felt like they were hiding things that might pop out and prevent me from escaping.

I opened the door and flicked on the light switch. At least the basement was finished, though that still didn't make it pleasant. Leading the way, I slowly stepped onto the first stair. Then, step by step, holding tight to the railing, I descended into the minimalist rec room. The basement also contained the furnace room, and a two-piece powder room. Everything was painted a pale beige, as if coffee had spilt on an eggshell shirt and spread just a little at a time.

I held my breath, trying to sense if my father's spirit was here. He had died in his office—at work, not his home office—but I wanted to know if he had somehow found his way back to the house. But I could feel nothing. Maybe I should ask Grams if she could feel anything.

The basement felt empty, almost in a scary way. There was no way anybody could get in from the outside, but I still felt vulnerable here. "There's something down here," I said.

"Follow your instincts," Bran said, following me with Bree at his side.

I paused, taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly. I closed my eyes and held out my hands. "I'm going to let the energy pull me. Bran, could you help me focus?"

He placed his hands on my waist. "Draw what you need."

The comfortable flow of his energy began to weave itself around me, encasing me like a cocoon of vines and the power of growing things, of vines and flowers and tree roots and their energy filling me with the strength of the earth, the strength of all that sustained us.

Empowered, I focused on my hands. "Show me what I seek," I whispered.

The magic wove itself into a cord that stretched out in front of me, like a rope levitating in midair. It was like a set of divining rods, only it took only one cord. The end turned into an arrow and began to shift back and forth, first to the right, then to the left, until it suddenly stiffened, pointing to the furnace room.

I began to walk toward the open door, reaching in to flip on the light switch. Inside, energy of the room shifted—it felt more secretive, as though it was hiding something. The sound of the furnace chugged gently in the background. But the comforting sound took on a menacing tone the longer I stood there. I closed my eyes again and the arrow pointed toward the back, beyond the furnace. I slowly approached the wall.

"There's something there," Bran said. "I can feel it."

"I know." I began to explore the back wall. "I need more light."

"I brought a flashlight," Bree said. "Here." She passed it to Bran, who turned it on and flashed it toward the wall so I could have both hands free.

I knelt, examining the molding against the floor. As I reached the center of the wall, I saw something—a faint line on the wall right above the molding. I brushed my fingers against it, surprised to feel something give, folding inward. It was a flap, almost invisible against the textured wall.

"Bring the flashlight closer," I said.

Bran stooped next to me and shone the light inside.

I gingerly reached in and felt around. Just out of sight was a lever and, holding my breath, I pulled it and stumbled back, standing up as quickly as I could. Bran took my elbow, steadying me and we waited. The next moment, a panel in the wall swung in, exposing a secret room.

"We found it!" I quickly lowered my voice. My mother always took a sleeping pill before bed, so only something like the fire alarm would wake her up, but I still wanted to keep as quiet as possible.

I started to enter the room, but Bran motioned me back.

"Let me go first," he said.

I nodded, standing back as he passed by me. A moment later, a light flickered on from inside the room. I joined him, and Bree followed me in.

The room was long and narrow, and as I walked over the threshold, a ripple slithered down my back. It was a room out of my nightmares. The walls were painted blood red, and the ceiling was pitch black. There was a table in the center of the room, with two chairs, one on each side. It, too, was long and narrow, and it was draped with a white cloth stained with what I could only assume was blood. In the center of the table was a spirit board, and a crystal ball sat beside it. The planchette was shaped like a taloned hand, and it was covered with dried hair. An open book was set to the other side, with a metal bookmark in it.

My anxiety grew as I stared at the setup. A swirling energy surrounded the book and board and crystal ball, like clouds circling an eye that was watching us.

"I don't like this one bit," Bran said.

"I don't either," Bree answered.

I scanned the rest of the room, trying to remain calm. It was difficult, though, because the energy hit so hard that it battered my senses. There was another table on the far end of the room, and on it sat a large crystal bottle. My first thought was djinn , but that faded as I watched the lights within the bottle swirl and sparkle. Mesmerized, I reached out for the bottle.

"Stop," Bran said, taking hold of my shoulder.

Startled, I looked back at him, realizing that I had been headed over to open it. Crap, that wasn't what I had planned, but…

"What is this place?" I asked, looking around the rest of the room. On the other end was a tall bookshelf filled with books. A small chest sat next to the bookshelf, and next to the chest was the outline of a door. Yet another secret compartment . How had my mother lived in this house without feeling all this energy?

"What the hell?" I said, turning to Bran. "What should we do?"

"I suppose we had better check out everything," he said, "but we need to be careful. There's something in this room that's very much aware. A sentient energy that's watching us."

Bree's eyes were wide, and she shuddered just enough to tell me she was nervous. "I can't feel energy as much as you two can, but I can feel danger. Be very careful because there's something here that scares the fuck out of me."

"Should we start with the table?" I asked, not wanting to separate even a few feet from the others.

Bran led the way, and we followed. As we neared the book, he gasped.

"I know what book that is," he said, his voice flat. "It's a Major Book of Summoning, a dark arts textbook. Only higher-level sorcerers use it. I thought your father was a witch, not a sorcerer?"

"He was, according to his journal. What he'd be doing with this book, I have no idea."

Sorcerers were to witches as Nazis were to warriors: opposite ends of the spectrum. Sorcerers didn't care who they hurt with their magic, or what chaos and catastrophe ensued from their spells. The witch community seldom spoke of them, not wishing to give them much attention. Most of them lived in rural areas, or in the dark, fel places of the world. They weren't accepted by most of the magical community, but that in itself proved problematic because that meant they weren't regulated and watched. I didn't know much about them, other than that. In fact, I expected to learn more through the continuing education class I was about to take.

"Well, I can tell you this is a sorcerer's set up," Bran said. "Let me see what the spell entails. I'm not going to read it out loud because I don't know what would happen. For all I know that's all it takes to cast it. I'd rather you didn't look at it because your magic isn't as highly trained as mine, as far as I know."

"You're right. Although I've had some training, it's better that you take a look."

Bran leaned over the book, scanning the text. While he did that, I took a closer look at the planchette, still not touching anything. I shuddered when I realized that it was an actual hand , not a fake. It wasn't made of plastic, nor of some resin, but it was a mummified hand that had talons and fur. I couldn't place it, though. I knew it wasn't an ape's hand, nor was it a human hand. I pointed to it and motioned to Bree. She leaned in for a closer look and jumped back.

"Holy crap," she said.

At that moment Bran stood back, shaking his head. "I think the spell summons some sort of demon," he said.

"Look at the planchette," I said.

He did so, then let out a curse under his breath. "This set-up reeks of trouble. What the hell was your father doing in here?"

We moved across the room to examine the bottle on the other table. It was beautiful, the size of a large decanter, filled with sparkling lights that twinkled in shades of a purplish pink. There was a stopper on top, also crystal, and I started to reach for it before I realized what I was doing, and stopped myself.

"Is that a djinn bottle?" Bree asked.

"I don't know, but I almost opened it without thinking. There's a lot of subtle persuasion in this room, so watch what you're doing and think twice before making a move," I said.

"I don't know if it's a djinn bottle or not," Bran said. "But I don't know if a djinn would feel comfortable in the set up. This is more Gothic than opulent, and if it's one thing djinns love, it's luxury. I don't think it's safe to uncork it," he added. "Let's take a look at the bookcase in the chest."

He led us to the opposite end of the room. We glanced over the titles in the bookshelf, and they all had to do with the dark arts. I knelt by the chest next to the shelves. There was a key in it, and it looked unlocked, but I wouldn't be able to tell for sure without opening it.

"Should we open this?" I asked.

"I think that's about as safe as opening the bottle," Bree said. "Why don't we take a look at the room behind the door," she added.

I took a deep breath, and move toward the door. There was a handle on this one, "I suppose the only way to find out what's behind it is open it." And with that, I slowly began to turn the handle.