The Travelers

The Travelers K. L. KRANES

Copyright Š 2016 Kristin Sexton Printed in the United States of America All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Reviewers may quote passages for use in periodicals, newspapers, or broadcasts provided credit is given to The Travelers by K. L. Kranes and Saguaro Books, LLC.

Saguaro Books, LLC 16201 E. Keymar Dr. Fountain Hills, AZ 85268 www.saguarobooks.com

ISBN: 978-1534881242 Library of Congress Cataloging Number LCCN: 2016945723 Printed in the United States of America First Edition

Acknowledgments First, I acknowledge my husband for his tireless patience with my editorial process. Even after receiving a first draft in a 4inch binder he still read nearly every subsequent draft. He never complained about having a wife who spent nights and weekends writing. He has been my partner at every step along this path and I can’t thank him enough.

I also want to acknowledge my family, particularly my mother, father and sister who fostered my love of writing. I am grateful for all of their time spent reviewing and editing not just this book, but all of my work over the years. I could not have asked for two more caring and helpful parents.

Maria “Daphne� Raitz, who may have missed her calling as an editor, provided invaluable edits and insight, as well as inspiration. She is a best friend in the truest sense and this book would not have existed as it is without her.

I would also like to thank several other people that helped me on this journey, including Melissa Acevedo, Orli Zuravicky, and Aamna Raza.

A special thanks to Saguaro Books for providing me with this opportunity.

Lastly, I thank my daughter for being my biggest cheerleader. Her support and love kept me writing and striving to create the best book possible. She is my inspiration to keep doing the thing I love.

Character Descriptions The Bennets

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  

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Dagny Bennet: The spunky forgetful heroine and youngest daughter of the Bennet family, who wants desperately to be just a normal girl, even though she is far from normal.

George James Bennet, III: Dagny’s father and the calm, bedrock of the family.

Elisabeth Bennet: Dagny’s loving mother.

Ava Bennet: Dagny’s older and much tidier sister, who spends much of her time worrying Dagny will accidentally reveal the family secrets.

Jason Bennet: Ava’s twin brother and voted most-likely to be mistaken for a robot, except when his temper flares.

The Chandler-Michaelsons

   

Marc Chandler: The beloved, responsible, straight-A son of the Chandler-Michaelson family, who secretly craves danger.

Jillian Chandler: Marc’s sarcastic sister who would rather have a pet frog than a perfect little brother.

Elaine Michaelson: Marc’s dramatic mother, a former almost actress.

Benjamin Michaelson: Marc’s reluctant stepfather.

The Friends

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Lily: Dagny’s bubbly, boy-crazy friend and head cheerleader.

Brooke: Dagny’s supportive new best friend.

Cody: Marc’s best friend and resident tattooed teddy bear look-alike.

The Others

 

Mr. Smith: A nefarious stranger searching for Dagny.

The Viator: A mysterious man helping Mr. Smith.

The Travelers

Chapter 1

Dagny My fingers shook violently as I dragged them across the smooth, cool surface of the metal coffin. It was pitch black inside the eight-foot cell and there was no way for me to tell if my sight had returned. I had been through this before but my new heartbeat still quickened with fear every time. In darkness and confinement, rational thought did not always prevail.

Suddenly, a spasm raced through my right leg. The sensation was more intense than I ever remembered feeling. That wasn’t saying much. I forgot a lot of things. The power to magically move your soul to another person’s body was not as exciting as it sounded.

It had consequences. For me, one of those was memory loss.

To fit my soul into this new body, I had to chip away little pieces of myself and let them fall into oblivion. Every time I ‘Traveled’, I lost more and more of myself. I was just a bunch of broken pieces inside the shell of a body. I didn’t even know what it meant to be me anymore.

When my limbs began to wiggle, I knew I’d finally whittled away just enough to resemble a real person.

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A jarring crack of a metal door thrown open announced one of my siblings was free.

“Where’s Dagny?” my brother asked, with a grunt.

“This is unacceptable. Look at this. I’m ugly,” my sister barked, ignoring my brother’s question.

Hiding in my cold, dark container, I felt as if millions of wires were attached to my body. With every word spoken, another wire jerked and compelled me to leave my cell. But I wasn’t ready yet.

When I ‘Traveled’, which is what we call it when we move from one body to the next, I felt free, at least for a little while. My soul floated above the earth. I had no weight, no burdens. I didn’t have eyes in that state of being. But my mystical vision saw all the auras on earth. Beneath me millions of colored lights pulsed in the darkness.

My parents called it flying on the wings of the raven because the raven ushered souls across realms. We Traveled by summoning its power. This was the first part of the transition. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was fleeting.

Then came the second part, my parents called that the landing, which was a nice way of describing it. It was more like crashing. I crashed down into someone else’s dead body and had to force my way through the flesh and into the marrow. I can’t lie. That part hurt.

My soul seeped into the different crevices of the corpse and worked hard to spark it back to life. This process was normally slow.

I slowed it down even more. I wanted to be the last one to fully wake into a new body. Actually, the truth was, my much older siblings needed to be first. So I let them. They always looked at me funny when I did anything faster than they did.

That was just my physical transition. The spiritual transition was even harder.

My new body had to connect to my magical abilities. To do this, I accessed the four elements—earth, air, fire and water.

Everything in Wicca was based on these elements.

It was time to start the next phase of the process.

I focused on earth and coaxed the energy from the ground toward my body. Soon, a primal heat warmed my toes and spread up 8

The Travelers

through my chest. Next, I tackled air. Breathing in and out slowly, I concentrated on exciting the oxygen around me. With my mind, I moved the atoms back and forth until my hair whipped at my face and a breeze tickled my arm. Two down, two to go. It was time to conjure water. I did this by willing the water vapors in the air to condense. Eventually, droplets formed above me and dripped down onto my nose. Last was fire. I focused only on the hum of electricity in the atmosphere. When my skin trilled with electric sparks, like tiny blue lightning strikes, it was time to wiggle my supernatural abilities.

I started by concentrating on one object, in this case the door handle to my coffin. An iridescent ball formed just beyond my toes, pulsing like a dim star. I flexed my mind and the star solidified into the chrome handle that stood between me and the outside world. As soon as I pictured the lock turning, the door cracked open and a sliver of light fell across my bare feet.

“Finally,” Jason yelled.

I slid out.

“You’re the pretty one,” Ava cried, seething. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m taking this up with Mother.”

That cold, solitary coffin was suddenly looking extremely appealing.

“Oh, Ava, don’t be upset,” I replied. “You’re so ugly you’re cute. Like a bulldog.”

I couldn’t resist.

Ava looked at me with horror and then began darting noiselessly through the dark room in search of a reflective surface.

Finally finding something suitable, she ran her fingers slowly through her dirty blonde hair and frowned with dissatisfaction.

There was nothing wrong with Ava’s face or body. She was medium height with a thin, pointy frame. That alone should have made her happy. Her eyes were small but they seemed to fit her angular face and sharp aquiline nose. Regardless of her appearance, she maintained her pristine, birdlike composure.

I have never been able to stand Ava’s superficial nature but I must admit I, too, felt compelled to steal a glance at my reflection. I had to squint to see my face. In fact, the entire room was fuzzy.

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“Well, this should make you feel better. I’m going to need glasses,” I said. Her consolation prize. “Guess that means I’ll have to be a nerd.”

“Sorry, little sister, it’s cheerleader or prom queen in your future,” Ava said, motioning for me to follow her toward the door.

“Your eyes will clear up in a few minutes. Did you forget again?”

Yes, I had forgotten. Just one little fact but I forgot a lot of little facts. And little facts added up. It wasn’t just my vision that became blurrier in a new body. I became blurrier. Without all my memories, I felt incomplete. Who was I really? I was a sister, a daughter, a witch. There had to be more to me. For someone who could be boiled down into just a soul, why did I feel soulless?

My family didn’t understand. They remembered everything.

They said the memory loss was because I was young. I have only existed for about three decades. They’re over 400 years old, give or take a few decades. They built up the magical ability to retain memory. Apparently, I will too, eventually.

The three of us tiptoed into a barren, narrow corridor illuminated only by dim halogen lights that flickered ominously. My new body shivered. Just then Jason stopped short and extended his arm out protectively in front of me. Before I could protest, he put a finger over his lips and nodded his head in the direction of the hallway.

Following his gaze, I saw a man standing several feet away.

Clothed in a crumpled brown suit, his shoulders curved forward slightly, as though the world rested upon them. The body was different but the posture was unmistakable. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Dad.” A quick inventory of this new version of my father revealed a rugged, weathered face that should’ve been accompanied by windblown hair. Instead, the gel-crusted follicles looked like a restrictive helmet. His skin, like all of ours, still had the sheen of death but his body seemed strong and young. This body had gone on hikes. It had battled river currents and run miles. It was an interesting contrast to my father’s pensive, quiet eyes. Except his expression was not thoughtful, it was full of pain.

Jason stood stiffly in the middle of the hall, looking at him with a blank expression. Jason’s body also had brawn and the same sandy-colored hair as my Dad. Clearly, the deceased son shared his 10

The Travelers

father’s love of physical activity. The main difference was Jason’s body still had a layer of baby fat covering his muscles. He was puffy and not yet defined. His eyes had a single-mindedness, though—run, survive, protect. Those were not the eyes of the dead boy. Those were Jason’s eyes.

Our eyes are the one thing we brought with us from body to body. It was nice to have one part of my family that hadn’t changed after all these years. My father’s eyes were warm and wise with layers of brown hues. Ava’s were also brown but much darker, nearly black. When you looked Ava in the eyes, it was like looking into a mysterious, black hole. Jason’s were dark green, with small, almost inconsequential, flecks of yellow that reminded me of tiny, distant fireworks. My mother’s eyes were a haunting light green that instantly mesmerized.

Suddenly, I realized my mother and her eyes were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Mom?” I cried out, fearful of the answer.

“She’s gone.” Dad’s hoarse voice barely registered in my ears. “They got her.”

Ava’s lips tightened as tears broke through her impassive eyes. “No, not again,” she said.

Marc The old car chugged up next to me. It was faded and dinged.

Still, it was a good, sturdy vehicle. You just had to look closely to see it.

“Get in,” she called out through a small crack in the window.

“I’m going to walk,” I said.

She looked like she wanted to argue. Instead she said, “Fine, whatever.” With a roll of her eyes, my sister sped off.

I shrugged it off and started to walk toward home.

I was a creature of habit. I didn’t usually change my routine.

After school I either went home with my sister, Jillian, or hung out with my best friend, Cody. Lately, the routine wasn’t enough. There was something missing from my life, like a void or emptiness inside me. That was the only way I could describe it. It didn’t just exist, it cried out to be filled.

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The closest I’d come to filling it was two weeks and three days ago. From the top of the rocks above the Potomac River I jumped headfirst into the rushing water. I was a strong swimmer.

Plus, I had calculated the likelihood I would actually die. Don’t worry, it was low. But that small margin of error made my pulse race and set me right again, at least for a while.

Today, the hungry, empty part of me was back and needed to be fed again. Walking gave me time to figure it out. Yes, even my spontaneity required some degree of planning. My family couldn’t know about this new adrenaline junkie part of me. They would not take it well, especially my mother.

My house was still about a half mile down the street. There was a car moving fast in the distance. The engine roared with every upward gearshift. It was probably less than 400 feet away and traveling about 50 miles per hour. I had about 5 seconds. Could I make it?

I lunged forward. My backpack banged against my ribs. The car rushed toward me. The driver didn’t even have time to slam the breaks. He whizzed by, barely missing me. His mirror clipped my backpack and I spun around. My heart pounded. The hunger subsided.

It would be back soon, though. That was not risky enough.

As I got closer to my house, I noticed my sister leaning against the front door. This was strange, especially since she was sun averse. She preferred her skin pasty and white.

“Did you just run in front of a speeding car?” Jillian asked as I came into earshot.

“No, I was just crossing the street,” I answered. “You should get a real prescription in those glasses. That guy didn’t come close to me.”

“Didn’t look like it to me. Whatever,” said Jillian as she looked down through thick-rimmed black glasses at her chipped dark purple fingernails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Trying to live a sincere life despite many existential obstacles,” I quipped as I reached the stoop.

“Funny,” she said, flatly. She had a sardonic way of speaking, similar to a late-night talk show host who slyly mocks her guests. “Nietzsche?”

“Kierkegaard.”

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The Travelers

Her eyebrows rose in acknowledgment. I reached for the doorknob. She put her hand on my arm before I could grab the handle.

“Wait,” she commanded. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Well.” I pulled out my wallet. “I live here. Yep, it says so on my license. See?” “You said this morning you were going to Cody’s after school. I thought that’s why you decided to walk.”

“I changed my mind. Can we talk about this inside where there is cold air thanks to this modern convenience called AC?” I asked. Even though it was technically fall, the sun was beating down harshly on my neck. Thanks global warming.

“The AC isn’t on,” she replied quickly.

“Why?” “The usual reasons. It broke and Mom hasn’t called the repair man yet. Our favorite stepdad does basically nothing other than sometimes help pay the mortgage. Whatever, just answer the question, Jerk-face.”

“Jerk-face? You’re really pulling out the good insults today,” I noted.

Her frown deepened.

“OK, OK,” I gave in, “I really wanted to have a close call with a car today.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

It was. I hoped humor would trivialize what she saw.

“Yes, but don’t smile. You might hurt yourself,” I said. “Can I go inside now?”

She hesitated. I got the distinct impression she was trying to keep me out of the house.

She rolled her eyes and moved aside. “Whatever, I give up,” she shrugged.

It didn’t take much.

As I entered the house, there was an unnatural silence.

Typically, there was a constant hum of electrical currents, forced air and television. Today it was eerily still, like a vacant home.

Jillian followed me inside.

“What’s going on, Jill?” I asked.

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“Mom’s sick, yada, yada, yada. She’s upstairs writing her next will and testament,” Jillian recited in a typical disinterested tone.

Despite everything I knew about my mother, my heart still pounded rapidly as I took the stairs two by two. When I got to her bedroom, she was lying listlessly on the bed. Her husband, my stepfather, stood next to the window, silent.

“Mom, are you OK?” I asked.

The smell of recently extinguished candles filled the room, which was odd. I’d paid the electric bill. It was $85.12, slightly higher than the previous month’s $81.17.

Looking around, I saw the alarm clock was still working.

“Oh, honey. I’m just a little sick.” Mom smiled thinly and took a sip of water. “Don’t I look OK?” she asked, seeing the look in my eyes.

“Don’t worry, Elaine, the Magic Mirror still says you’re the fairest in the land,” I said. Sometimes I used her first name when she was being particularly dramatic.

“Oh, Marc. You’re terrible.” She giggled, showing some of her normal liveliness.

“I’ll make you some soup,” I told her. “Chicken? Your favorite?”

“Marc, can we talk in private?” my stepfather interrupted.

My mother looked away. Reluctantly, I walked with him to the other side of the room.

My stepfather was a plain man, small and thin with medium brown hair. I towered over him by more than a head. If he spoke, he spoke softly. He didn’t seem to fit with my mother. She was charismatic and beautiful. There was nothing remarkable about him, except his amber eyes. They were so light they glowed like embers.

Still, my mother never left his side. She was smitten. I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t really my business anyway.

“It’s nothing really,” he half-whispered. “However, I think it’s a good idea if you go to your grandmother’s for a while.”

This was all very weird. Mom wasn’t sick yesterday.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking to mother. “Why do you want me to go to Gram’s?”

“Please, honey,” she said, hoarsely. “This way I don’t have to worry about you while I get better.”

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“You worry about me?” I almost laughed. This was coming from the woman who still couldn’t figure out how to work the dishwasher.

My mother was a former starlet who had a brief stint on a television show. Her career never took off and she never became a star the way she always wanted to be but no one ever told her. She still walked around like the world was meant to serve her.

“Well, there’s something else too,” she said, looking down.

“Your grandmother called last night. She broke her hip and needs some help.”

“Mom, I love Gram. But wouldn’t it be better to call a nurse rather then send me across the country? I wouldn’t even know how to help her.”

“Yes, see, I didn’t even think of that. That’s why I need you to go out there. Help her figure it out. She’s all alone,” my mother said. “When your weasel of a father abandoned us, he abandoned her too.”

It still shocked me that I felt the impulse to defend him. My biological father left us. The man standing here, Benjamin Michaelson, was my stepfather. He was devoted to my mother but he didn’t pay much attention to my sister or me. Neither did Mom. It wasn’t that surprising. My father held the family together. He cooked the meals and paid the bills. He forced us to spend time together. At least once a week, he pulled us all into the den and we sang songs as he played guitar. Those were on the good days, though. On the bad days, he and my mother fought a lot. One day, after a huge fight, he packed a bag and never came back. To be honest, even though he was the one who left, she was the one I blamed.

Still, it was hard to hate her. She was the one who stayed.

Occasionally, she’d try to make up for her lack of parenting by taking us to a movie or lunch. This on-again off-again Mom business no longer affected me. It still bothered Jillian. She wanted a real Mom. “I’ll go if you want me to,” I assured her. “But who will help you take care of the house?”

“Oh, Jillian can do that,” Mom said, airily.

“Jillian?” I laughed and Jillian shot me a look that practically singed my nose hairs.

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“I am the older sibling,” Jillian said, in her aloof tone to convince me she didn’t really care.

“Coulda fooled me,” I mumbled. “What about school? I could miss a week or more.”

“Oh, Marc, could you just do something for once without plotting out everything beforehand?” my mother said, with her typical impatience.

“And we all know you could miss half the school year and you’d be fine,” my stepfather added.

“Besides, you won’t be gone too long. You’ll need to be back before your birthday," Mom noted wistfully.

“Why?” Now I knew she wasn’t feeling well. My mother hadn’t remembered my birthday, well, ever.

“It’s an important one. We should spend it as a family. Now leave me,” she said with a dramatic wave of her hand.

Jillian and I retreated to the kitchen. A large pile of dishes, thick with grime, sat in the sink. I turned on the faucet, grabbed a sponge and began to scrub.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked Jillian.

She shrugged, picking up a towel. She half-dried a dish and put it back where she’d found it.

“What’s really going on?” I asked her. “Why were you acting like a nut case earlier?”

“Whatever,” she started. “They begged me to keep you away from the house after school today, which was seriously annoying. Of course, they’re always concerned about you and what might happen to you,” she said, with disdain.

“Jill, that doesn’t answer my question,” I said, trying to keep her focused.

“They wouldn’t tell me why.” She had near-permanent dark circles under her eyes. She’d had them since childhood. Now they were more pronounced because of her dyed-black hair and black glasses. The combination made her look constantly tired. “Listen, Gram needs help. You should go.”

“What about you?” I said.

“I can deal with Mom and her ‘illness’. You know it’ll probably turn out to be more of her melodrama,” Jillian said.

“I could do with a lot more mellow and a lot less drama,” I said, nudging her with my elbow.

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“I could do without listening to her constantly worrying about you. God forbid the Golden Child catches something,” Jillian continued. “Please, just go.”

“Alright, but I’m not the Golden Child.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Just slightly bronzed,” I said, teasingly.

I smiled and nudged her again. She didn’t smile back.

Jillian After Marc and I ate dinner, I tiptoed quietly up the stairs, glancing back one last time to make sure my mother and stepfather were still in the den. They were always together. They’d been married almost two years. The honeymoon phase should be over already. I rolled my internal eye dramatically. Whatever.

My mother had moved her sickbed from the bedroom to the den to “be closer to nature.” She insisted it helped her heal. I didn’t understand how that got her closer to nature. It just got her closer to the television. It didn’t matter to me. For once, something actually worked in my favor. Now I had chance to see what they were up to.

I quietly headed toward my parent’s room at the end of the hall.

Marc’s door was diagonal from their room. It was open a crack. I paused and watched him through the sliver. He tucked a sock into the corner of his suitcase. It fit perfectly. He approached packing the way he approached life. He was thoughtful, meticulous and deliberate. He was infuriatingly perfect. No wonder Mom liked him better.

I was a disappointment. When I was a child, she wanted me to take etiquette classes and wear frilly dresses. I wanted to roll around in the mud and color my Barbie’s hair black.

Marc was perfect from the start. He drew her sweet pictures when he was young. Later, he helped with the laundry and the cooking. The worst part was he did it just to be nice. So annoying.

The more he did, the less I wanted to do.

I checked my desire to walk straight into his room and dump his bag on the floor. Instead I continued down the hall. I had to figure out what was going on. Sure, it was much easier just not to care. I did that well. But something was strange about this whole situation. It nagged at me. I couldn’t ignore it. Trust me, I tried.

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I opened the door to my parent’s room. It squeaked loudly.

Or maybe I imagined it. I was secretly terrified of getting caught.

My parents were clear: I should never go into their room without permission.

Most kids were grounded for breaking the rules. I wasn’t like most kids, though. I could get turned into a toad. OK, maybe not a toad. But my parents could definitely do something much scarier than ground me.

I stopped to make sure no one heard me and then closed the door gently behind me.

The long wood dresser was covered with creams and lotions.

It looked like the desk of a mad scientist. I pushed a few bottles aside to clear a small space. Quickly, I assembled the ingredients.

My hand shook as I poured a mixture of sand and salt into a small wooden cup. Inside I placed a pinch of homemade incense.

My fumbling fingers sparked a match and dropped it in the cup. The pungent odor of pine, peppermint and jasmine filled the room. A thin stream of smoke twisted up toward the ceiling.

I took a practice breath to steady my nerves. This was a big spell for me. With my luck, it would set the room on fire instead of showing the last time magic was used. Nothing ever went my way.

I breathed in again. This time I inhaled the plume of smoke. I tried not to cough. Then I closed my eyes and concentrated on connecting with the elements. Heat entered through my toes first, then my fingers. Air danced across my skin. My spell was based in fire and air. So far, so good.

Of course, at any moment, the spell could still backfire and turn me to dust. Part of me wished it would. Being in this family was hard. I had a perfect brother, a self-centered mother, an emotionally absent stepfather and then there was the witch thing. It was a big secret. My friends couldn’t know. Marc couldn’t know. He didn’t have powers yet. So I had to hide my witchy-ness even in my own house. Being a witch in suburbia was complicated and lonely.

Bottom line, it sucked.

I whispered words of the spell. As I spoke, smoke wafted out of my mouth.

“Tem poris spaca,” I said.

The smoke expanded and thickened, like a fog. My body trembled. It worked. I couldn’t believe it. I’d performed small spells.

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Some worked, some didn’t. In Wiccan years, I was still practically a baby and it took effort to practice. So I didn’t do it much. In our Wiccan tribe, called the Aradnians, we get our powers when we’re seventeen. It’s called our Awakening. It was a dumb name.

Whatever. The worst part was that we couldn’t even know we’re witches until we were seventeen. It was a stupid rule. I didn’t know much about other tribes but if they didn’t have that rule, I’d convert.

The fog moved with purpose. It coated the room with a thin gray film, except in one place. The place the last spell was cast. It was a space on the floor next to the bed. It had a distinct shape—an exact five point star.

Suddenly the door swung open.

“What are you doing?” my stepfather, Benjamin, said, through gritted teeth.

I gulped.

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Chapter 2

Dagny I stood frozen in the hallway of the morgue. I needed to actually hear the words to know it was true.

“What do you mean, she’s gone? She’s dead?” I demanded.

My anxious words were met with silence. I tried to follow the crumbs of memories to the candy house. Pulling an old memory from the far recesses of my mind, I recalled some veiled references to people who wanted us dead. “Abominations” was the term I remembered most clearly. As soon as I got close to the memory it disappeared, as if a door was suddenly shut and locked. The memory was behind it.

“Yes,” my father whispered. It was barely audible.

“We need to get out of here,” Jason stated, coolly.

He stood with his back straight and legs spread, systematically scanning our surroundings for any number of hidden enemies. He would have looked like a poster-child for the Army if not for the wisps of boyish curls at his temples that gave away his age. In fact he reminded me of someone from a movie. The Termite.

No. The Destructor. No, it wasn’t that. Oh, it was so frustrating not being able to remember even the simplest things.

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The echo of shuffling feet reverberated down the corridor.

“Hey—who’s down there?” a ghostly silhouette called out.

But this was no ghost. He was the night man on duty. If there were any horror movie characters here, they were us.

“What you people doin’?” The night watchman’s voice cracked with confusion and fear. We were likely very frightening with our white, translucent glow, replete with re-animated veins and capillaries throbbing beneath our skin.

“Dad, we have to go,” my sister whispered.

My father’s posture snapped into shape.

Without another word, we sprinted down the hall. Our bare feet pounded against the hard tile until we skidded to a stop at a Tintersection. Without thinking, I turned right. Jason followed. Ava and Dad went left.

The night watchman’s footfalls echoed close behind. Jason shot me an anxious glance as we rounded another corner. I spotted the outline of a rectangle in the blackness.

“Door,” I whispered.

The silver handle glowed like a beacon. We rushed into the room, slammed the door behind us and threw our weight against it.

Seconds later, the watchman banged loudly against the door.

He yanked down the handle and thrust it forward. The door opened a crack. Jason and I slammed it shut again.

“Can we lock it?” I asked.

“No,” he barked, staring at the lockless door.

Pressing my back against the door, I took stock of our options. Long metal tables held a few freshly dead bodies under the cover of crisp white sheets. The outlines of the corpses bobbed up and down like a skyline of rolling, snow-covered hills. At the other end of the room I spied our only means of escape: another door.

“You hold the door while I hide on one of the empty tables,” I directed. “Then you go for that door. He’ll follow you. I’ll creep out after he’s gone.”

“That is a negative.”

“You can outrun him. I can’t,” I explained.

Jason didn’t move. He was not convinced.

“You have a better idea?” I challenged.

“Can you use…?”

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Suddenly, the night watchman shoved the door open again cutting Jason’s question short. Jason flung his body back against it and closed it with a loud grunt.

“Don’t you think I would have if I could?” I snapped.

I was alert. But my body was not yet fully connected to my mind or my powers. If we had been completely healed, we would’ve had no trouble escaping.

“Me either,” he sighed, then offered a begrudging, “Go.” I leaped onto one of the tables and pulled the sheet over myself. Once covered, I heard Jason move an object in front of the door.

The night watchman yelled and pounded as he tried to force the door open.

“Open this door. I’m calling the police. Is this a joke?” he threatened.

I wish.

Jason slipped through the back door just as the barricade screeched across the floor. The success of my plan hinged on the night watchman spying Jason’s exit and following him. I held my breath and waited to find out if my plan worked.

The sound of his sneakers shuffling around the room answered my question and sent my heart beating like a war drum.

The watchman did not follow Jason. Instead, he was examining the bodies on the tables.

Before I knew it, it was my turn. A draft of air swept along the length of my body as my sheet lifted upwards. My one advantage was I still looked like a corpse. Now I had to act like one.

The night watchman held the sheet for what felt like an eternity. My lungs ached as I waited for him to let it fall. But he didn’t.

It would be impossible to stave off the burn of my lungs much longer. A gasp escaped my lips and my eyes involuntarily shot open. The night watchman withdrew in shock. His hand trembled and the cloth shook. But he didn’t release it.

I held still. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the knowledge that it was normal for dead bodies to release gases or spontaneously open their eyes. Surely if he’d worked here long enough he would know that, wouldn’t he?

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As the seconds ticked by, my mind was wild with speculation. Had he seen me in the hall earlier? Would he know my face? I stared straight and didn’t move a muscle.

Preventing myself from blinking was almost as hard as preventing myself from breathing. I wouldn’t be able to hold off both biological reflexes much longer.

In my peripheral vision, I saw his shaking arm move slowly toward me. He placed a single finger on my neck, as if to check my pulse, and quickly retracted it. My lungs again threatened to burst open. The dry air in my eyes would soon force me to blink.

I couldn’t fool him twice.

There was a sudden crash outside the room. Quickly, he dropped the sheet and ran off toward the sound. Gasping, I jumped off the table.

Carefully and quietly, I tiptoed back to the location where our family split. Down the hallway my father and Ava had chosen, I spied a glowing red “Exit” sign. That was the direction I had to go.

There was no choice. Taking in a deep breath, I did the only thing I could do, run.

My chest burned from exhaustion and fear when I threw open the heavy outer door. Rain poured down and lighting streaked across the sky. Thunder cracked. Ava pressed herself against the wall of the building, trying to stay dry under a small overhang. Jason looked up for only a second to acknowledge my existence. Water dripped down his face. He didn’t even seem to notice the rain.

“It’s about time,” he said, tersely.

The Terminator . A moment of clarity, finally.

Jillian Benjamin closed the door. My chest tightened with fear. He didn’t look like much to humans. But he had power. He could hurt me. I stepped back, instinctively. We lived in the same house. Still I barely knew the guy, even after almost two years. I didn’t know what he would do to me. Without taking his eyes off me, he walked over and opened a window. I was too terrified to speak. The smoke funneled out of the room and, slowly, the air cleared. The door was only a few feet away. I wanted to run but I couldn’t. This man was corrupting my mother. She would never have done something like 24

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this before she met him. My mother was many things but she didn’t break the rules. She loved rules and pomp and circumstance. I summoned my courage and my anger.

“I saw what you did,” I snapped, accusingly.

“What did I do?” he asked. His tone was too calm.

“The revealing magic spell showed me the pentagram. It means you did a spell that used five points. You had to use all the elements and blood. The Libri Dea forbids using blood in spells. It’s dangerous. It’s wrong.”

“The Libri Dea also tells us to kill Possessors,” he responded, arching his left eyebrow. “For something like that, you need blood.”

“Wait, what? You and Mom killed a Possessor? How?” I was stunned.

How was this possible? Sure the Aradnian book of magic, called the Libri Dea, said Possessors were very dangerous. They possessed the bodies of people and killed their souls. But it was supposed to be nearly impossible to find a Possessor, let alone kill one. Only very powerful Wiccans even tried. Since when was my mother a powerful witch? She used spells to make frown lines disappear, not people.

“Your mother is stronger than you think. She comes from a very ancient line of witches. Her blood, like yours and your brother’s, can have great power. You probably never knew that. Your father wasn’t interested in magic. He wanted to live like a human.

Your mother never explored her magical side with him. That was a mistake.”

“So what? It’s still dangerous. Blood spells are banned for a reason. They take a lot of power. If you use that much power, there is always a price. You may not pay it but someone or something else will. And they can go wrong, anything could happen,” I said, reciting the warnings from the Libri Dea. He stared at me, like he was waiting for something. Then I realized.

“That’s why you didn’t want Marc here this afternoon. He’s not seventeen yet. He might see something he shouldn’t.”

My Stepfather nodded. He almost looked proud.

“And Mom’s not really sick. She’s drained from the spell because it takes so much power,” I continued.

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“She’ll be fine in a day or two,” he said, taking a step toward me. He looked at me differently. Was that respect in his eyes? “You are more perceptive than I realized. Or maybe you’re more deceptive. I thought you didn’t care about magic. And then you just did a relatively advanced spell. You definitely inherited your mother’s talent.”

“If you succeeded, or whatever, why are you sending Marc away?” I asked.

“Because we’re not stopping,” he said. He moved closer. His amber-colored eyes narrowed. My courage drained away.

“Possessors travel in packs like dogs. We have their scent now. It’s a matter of time before we find the next one. We’re going to get them all. You could help us. I see promise in you. I’m now very interested to see what happens with your brother.”

Of course, it always comes back to Marc. I’m the older one but I’m never first. Whatever. If my stepfather didn’t turn me into a toad, I would go back to not caring again. I exhausted my caring quota for the month anyway.

“What about Gram. Did she really break her hip?”

“She didn’t. Marc will find out she’s fine when he gets there.

We’ll figure out a way to keep him out there until he turns seventeen.”

He put his cold hand on my arm.

“Now let’s talk about your punishment.”

Jason We arrived at a small motel close to the airport. It was hidden behind a gas station, a good strategic location. The rooms ran along an outdoor hallway, which faced away from the main street.

The rooms had only one exit. This was good for surveillance.

Unfortunately, it also limited escape routes.

Our mother booked the motel room yesterday, as part of our typical preparations. Yesterday seemed like an eternity ago, even for someone as old as I. Yesterday, we were different people and she was still alive. Yesterday was gone now.

I swallowed hard and pushed down the mucous gathering in my throat. That was the closest I would come to crying. There was no time for sorrow. I would find the witches who killed her and make them pay. First, I had to get Dagny to the new house safely.

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My father went into the motel office alone. Ava and Dagny watched him through the dirty window. I watched everything else.

It was dark. Even though it was late, Los Angeles was a large city and cars still zoomed by on the road. I wanted to get inside as quickly as possible. Darkness was unsafe.

Dad emerged from the office and we all walked silently to the room. He opened the door. Inside it smelled of ammonia and mothballs.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Ava said. She turned her head toward the open door with disgust and covered her nose. “Thank God I’m not staying here.”

Dagny walked in and looked around.

“It’s not that bad,” she said.

Dagny ran her left hand absently across the dresser and then opened a door at the far end of the room. “Bathroom looks clean. I think I’m going to take a shower,” she said.

“Please do,” said Ava. She looked Dagny up and down, disapprovingly. Dagny’s hair was tangled. Her t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled and far too big for her. Ava had already combed her hair into a bun and put on a perfectly starched polo shirt and long khaki skirt.

Dagny looked at Ava defiantly.

“Actually, I’m kind of hungry,” Dagny said. “Dad, I saw a vending machine down the hall. I’m going to go grab something.”

She started for the door.

“Wait,” said Dad. “You don’t have any money.”

“I don’t need money,” Dagny said, with a wink.

“Dagny, we are not criminals.” He took a dollar out of his pocket.

“Well, we just stole four dead bodies from a morgue and clothes and money from a bunch of people at a gym,” Dagny said.

“If that’s not criminal behavior, I’m not sure what is.”

“That was necessary for survival,” Dad responded.

He handed her the dollar.

“So is chocolate,” she said as she walked out of the room.

“Dagny, no junk food,” Ava snapped, peaking her head out into the hallway.

Dagny turned briefly and said, “I don’t think the vending machine carries fresh fruit.” Then she continued down the hall.

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I stood in the doorway with one foot in the hall and one foot in the room so I could closely monitor Dagny. Ava and my father hovered near me inside. The vending machine was several yards away, pushed up against the side of the motel. It was close enough for me to see Dagny but far enough away that she couldn’t hear us talking.

“I’ll have to worry about her terrible eating habits later,” Ava whispered. “When Dagny comes back, hopefully she will still want to shower. When she’s in there, we can quickly perform the spell and then I can go to the airport.”

Dagny reached the vending machine. She put the tip of the dollar in the slot. It sucked it in and spit it back out.

“Then you and Jason will go to the airport,” Dad corrected.

“No, Jason is going to stay here and take Dagny on the plane once I’ve made the house safe,” Ava said. She didn’t discuss this with me or Dad. She assumed we would agree.

Typically, before Traveling to new bodies, we made several key plans. We picked the bodies and the morgue. We identified a place to obtain clothes and money quickly. We booked a motel near an airport. We determined a location for our new home and purchased a house or apartment. Then, almost immediately after Traveling, Ava and I went to the new house together to prepare it with protective spells. Dagny and our mother came when it was safe.

Our father was last. He stayed around to make sure our sudden resurrection had no lasting consequences.

“No,” Dad said. “It will take longer to prepare the new house with just one person. That will delay Dagny’s arrival. She is virtually unprotected here. I would rather she spend a few hours alone on a plane than risk several extra days or weeks in a location we cannot properly secure.”

Dagny was still at the vending machine. She rubbed the dollar against the glass to smooth it out. Then she put it in again. It spit it back out.

“You and Jason will be with her,” Ava argued.

“Ava, your mother was just killed,” Dad argued, calmly. “I realize none of us are ready to talk about that quite yet. However, we cannot ignore it completely. I cannot adequately protect a motel room and keep Dagny safe. Someone may notice the strange odors 28

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and symbols burned onto the floors. We need to get her to the new house as quickly as possible.”

“Then you take her,” Ava said, sharply, to Dad. “We were seen by the night watchman. I cannot come until I am sure that has not aroused suspicion,” Dad explained, maintaining his even tone.

“He saw us clearly. That is a step we can’t skip,” I said, agreeing with Dad. Ava shot me a sour look. “Why doesn’t Dad take Dagny to the airport? He can drop her at the gate. I will be at the gate in Virginia to pick her up. She will only be alone for the time she is on the plane. She can’t get into that much trouble in five or so hours.”

“Jason, just last week she turned her friend’s hair blue because the girl said she wanted to try it. That was not easy to cover up,” Ava said.

“Ava, we do not have many options. I believe Jason’s suggestion is the best. It is what we will do,” Dad said.

Dagny tried the dollar again and the machine kicked it out.

She turned around to see if someone was watching. I ducked back into the room so she wouldn’t see me watching her and peered out.

She turned back and waved her hand across the glass of the vending machine. The coil turned and a candy bar dropped into the dispenser. She stuck her hand in and pulled it out. She did it with barely a thought. I couldn’t do that, not yet or not ever, at least not as easily.

She opened the wrapper and turned on her heel, heading back toward the room.

“She’s coming,” I said. “So, we agree?”

Ava pulled on the bottom of her shirt, indicating she did not agree but would not argue. My father nodded.

“Now we should focus on the spell,” Dad said. “If we want to keep her safe, we need to do this well.”

Dagny came back to the room. She had already finished the candy bar and was licking her fingers.

“Dagny, you have chocolate all over your hands and face,” Ava said, shaking her head.

Dagny scowled and went to the bathroom. She closed the door. A moment later the shower turned on.

“Let’s do this before she’s done,” Ava said.

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We held hands in a circle and concentrated. It was a difficult spell and we were still new to these bodies. We were also missing a key member of our family. I wasn’t sure if, without my mother, the spell would be as powerful.

We closed our eyes. The air started to hum and crackle.

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Chapter 3

Dagny It was almost two weeks now since she died. Two weeks of tears. Two weeks since my sister and brother jetted off across the country to our new home. Two weeks in a stuffy motel room. I didn’t want to make it three.

“How’s it looking?” I asked my father, anxiously.

He sat on the bed, concentrating on a tarot card reading.

Most humans only knew about store-bought tarot cards. Those were only toys. Real Wiccan tarot cards were actually blank, until a witch used them. The appearance of symbols relied on the power of the witch. These cards were not preprinted in a factory.

My father placed a blank card on the bed. Colors swirled, circling and moving until they materialized into an image.

“It is difficult to say,” he answered. This was the fifth time in the last hour he performed the reading. He was trying to figure out if it was finally safe for me to leave the motel and go to our new house. Normally, he did not even perform a reading and he definitely didn’t do it five times. However, normally my mother would be with me for the plane ride.

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At the thought of my mother, my heartbeat sped up and water welled in my eyes. I refused to let it drip down my cheek. I’d already cried enough.

When we first got to the motel, it felt like I couldn’t stop crying. Then it became easier not to cry. The pain didn’t stop. It shifted. Instead of being on the surface, it burrowed down deeper inside me and settled in. It was a permanent part of me now. She was dead. I was the girl with a dead Mom. It was wrong and unfair.

My father and I never talked about why she was gone. I tried. But he didn’t want to discuss it. He said grief came first, comprehension came later. It sounded like a quote from some philosopher. Dad said things like that all the time.

It had been two weeks now since he said that. To me, that meant “later.” I decided to try to talk to him again.

“Dad, can you put down the tarot cards? I want to talk about something,” I asked, meekly.

“This reading concerns me,” he said, too focused on the cards to hear me. “I am bewildered by the Wheel of Fortune card.”

Although he lived in the modern era, my father, George James Bennet, III, sometimes still spoke as if he lived in the 18th Century. I liked this about him. He had an excellent vocabulary. I enjoyed listening to him speak—like listening to a poet.

“Oh, yeah that’s weird,” I said, even though I didn’t really understand. I couldn’t remember what the card meant. I should know. Tarot cards were one of the basic fundamentals of witchcraft.

It was like adding and subtracting. Just another thing I couldn’t remember. I was tired of not being able to remember.

The memories of my family were the clearest. Most other memories were just clips. A few left a lasting impression—a beautiful sunset, a perfect day at the beach, a star-filled night. I guess it was a relief not everything was so utterly lost. But instead of feeling as though I would live forever, I felt like I was destined to be a perpetual child. I was always starting over, having to relearn practically everything about life.

“It is ‘weird,’ as you say,” he agreed. “There are many potential meanings. I am unsure how to interpret it. The card itself is upright, implying positivity. However, that could mean either good luck or a turning point or change. The potential change 32

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interpretation concerns me. We want only steady symbols for this trip.”

Four cards now were turned face up on the bed in a stepwise pattern. Three I remembered on my own. The first was the Chariot.

It was horizontal, which meant traveling. That seemed appropriate on many levels. Touching the corner of the Chariot card was the Hermit, meaning self-discovery or contemplation. Next, there was the Wheel of Fortune card and then the Tower, which usually meant new beginnings and fate. It could also mean risk. How the cards related to each other also determined the meaning.

My father held one more card in his hand. Tarot readings only worked using prime numbers. Prime numbers were important in Wiccan culture. They were everywhere. Incense or potions had to have three ingredients to work or an incantation was said one, three or five times.

He flipped the last card and touched the corner to the Tower.

The image appeared. It was the Moon card. This one I remembered.

Like all tarot cards, it had many meanings. It could mean inner truth, danger, perception, vision, deceit or even fantasy.

My father dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. It was such a natural movement, as if it had been his body his whole life, all 400 years of it. How did he do that? I still felt awkward in my body.

I walked over to the large mirror above the dresser. Most people look in the mirror and see the same face every day. I still got startled when I looked at my reflection. My nose was too tiny. My lips were too pale and always looked like they were pouting. My hands were like foreign objects. Plus, this body was so small it felt like it could be crushed by a strong wind. I couldn’t settle into this body or anybody. I didn’t feel whole. I felt like two separate entities barely held together.

“These last three are perplexing. It would be helpful to have Ava here. She is far superior at reading tarot cards,” he said, with a sigh.

Ava was particularly good at spells, calling on the element of air for power, such as divination, discovery and transportation spells.

Tarot readings fell into this category. Every witch was connected to one element more than the others. Jason’s element was fire. He excelled in strength and power spells. Like all fire-based spells, he 33

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was strong but volatile. He worked harder than most to stay calm.

My father was an earth witch. He was naturally tranquil and grounded.

I was somehow different. I didn’t gravitate to one element. I didn’t even really need spells. I just closed my eyes and felt the elements. They entered my body, I thought about what I wanted and it happened. Of course, I had limitations. I could channel the elements to make an apple appear in my hand without a spell. But I couldn’t summon an entire tree.

My family was terrified of my power. I could see it in their eyes. So, I pretended. I said incantations I didn’t need and I made potions I didn’t use. I didn’t want to be different, even among the different. Only my mother treated me as if I was special and not a freak.

“Dad,” I said, louder this time.

He continued to stare at the cards and mumble.

“Dad,” I snapped.

He looked up.

“I want to talk about something,” I said.

“Alright.” He pushed the cards aside and turned to me.

“I want to talk about Mom. I want to know who killed her and why she was killed.” I tried to hold my voice steady. “I need to know.”

He exhaled lightly and rested his chin on his fist—his natural thinking pose.

“You know that Travelers are part of the Dionician tribe of Wicca?”

I nodded.

“Do you remember the story of Dionus and Aradnia?”

This was a test. Dionicians passed knowledge down through oral traditions and storytelling. We were a highly secretive bunch.

There were no books or references. Not ideal for a person with memory problems.

I poked around my mind, trying to find the answer. It was at the edge of my memory. I circled, spiraling toward it, never quite reaching it. I refused to give up. I was determined to break through the wall that separated me from my memories.

“They had the power of the God and Goddess,” I finally blurted out. Thank God, no pun intended. “They were leaders of a 34

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very powerful Wiccan society. They ruled together and were loved by their people, right?”

“Yes, that is correct,” my father said. “What else do you remember?”

My memory started to get fuzzy again. There was much more to the story. I could only remember pieces, though. I prodded my memory again. Suddenly, the story rushed into my brain.

“Other nations were jealous of their power and their country was attacked often because of that. Dionus and Aradnia always kept the country safe. But, as Dionus got older, he worried that when he and Aradnia died, their people would be defenseless. The power of the God and Goddess was given only to two Wiccans, once every two thousand years. When they were gone, their power would be gone, also. So, he moved his soul into a younger body to extend his life and power and protect his people. Aradnia thought this went against nature. So, she killed him and then she killed herself.”

This was usually how it happened. I struggled to remember a small piece of information. Then, without warning, large masses of information flooded my brain, like I poked a hole in a balloon and information rushed out. It could be very bewildering.

“Correct,” he said.

“That’s an interesting story. What does it have to do with Mom?” I asked.

“Be patient. This will answer your question. After they died, the people of the country became bitterly divided and a bloody Civil War broke out between supporters of Dionus and supporters of Aradnia.”

“I remember this,” I said, interrupting. “The Aradnians drove out the Dionicians.”

“Yes, some Dionicians fled. Others took over Aradnian bodies. Traveling is very difficult and many died simply from the effort. However, a select group of powerful Dionicians were successful. When the Aradnians discovered this, they developed the means to target and kill Travelers. They hated our kind so much that they made it part of their belief system to destroy us all.”

“That was thousands of years ago, though. They are still after Travelers, even today? Why?” “The Aradnians teach hate from birth. To them, we are all evil because we take over other people’s bodies and kill their souls.”

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“Our family doesn’t do that. We only take over people who are already dead,” I said, defensively.

“We are not like other Travelers. There are those who kill to survive.”

The phone buzzed loudly on the table. He looked down at it.

“It is your sister. I need to speak with her,” he said.

Mr. Smith “So, August, tell me about the zombies,” I said. Zombies were not real, at least not in the way they were portrayed on television. I was very much aware of this fact. Even so, this man had seen the walking dead.

“I already told the cops everything. Got me locked up here,” he said.

“Listen, August. I have some leverage here. I could get you out. However, I can only do this if you tell me exactly what happened,” I said, coercively.

He laughed and it turned into a cough.

“August, I don’t know if I believe in zombies. I do think you saw something, however,” I paused. I needed to convince him to open up. He was heavily medicated. He nearly nodded off several times. “I can get all the charges against you dropped.”

He lazily looked off in the distance. He didn’t believe me. I attempted another angle.

“What harm could it do to tell me your story? I’ll even tell you what I think happened.”

He shrugged.

“OK then.” I chose my words carefully. “You were working.

You heard a noise. You thought, perhaps, someone was working late.

Then there were several voices. So you went to check it out. You saw some people. Three, four? They looked like walking dead people.”

“Like—zombies, duh.”

“Fine, let’s call them zombies. They saw you and ran away, not very zombie-like.”

“So? Maybe zombies is misunderstood,” he said.

“Maybe they are,” I said, nodding my head as sincerely as possible. “Did you get a good look at these zombies?”

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“I guess, yeah.”

“You told the police you thought you saw a girl breathe on the table,” I said.

“They don’t believe me. Why should you? I don’t want to do this no more. Just give me the damn meds and leave me alone.” He slumped down further in his chair.

“August, I believe you,” I assured him. “Could you identify the family if you saw them again?”

“The boy, maybe. The man, nah. The chicks, I don’t know.

Their clothes was fallin’ off their back. You know, ‘cuz they cut the clothes up the back for the wake. I wasn’t exactly lookin’ at their faces or checkin’ out their great zombie personalities.”

“There is no need to be coy with me,” I said, trying to hold back my impatience.

“What does that mean?”

I tried again. It was difficult to dumb down my vernacular for such a lesser being.

“August, I am not the police. Did you see the youngest one?

Did you happen to touch her?” This piece of information was crucial.

“Well, yeah. When she was on this table, I touch her neck.

So what?”

This night watchman had touched her. His blood could be the key to finding her.

“That’s very good August,” I said.

This was the closest I had come to locating her in decades.

This was my life’s mission. The idea it might actually be achieved, filled me with overwhelming excitement.

My mentor, the Viator, said I was destined to find her and bring her to her rightful place. I never truly doubted. It had been thirty years since he found me in that hospital and raised me as his own. My quest started that day. Finally, I was closer than ever.

“You will be coming with me,” I said to the night watchman.

Jason Ava hung up the phone and picked up a sage stick. She snapped her finger. The stick started to smoke. Then she walked the perimeter of the room and waved the stick in the air. She took small, 37

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inefficient steps. Her shoes clicked loudly on the floor. Her stiff, long skirt restricted her movement. In 400 years, I had never seen Ava in pants.

“What did Dad say?” I asked. I twisted another screw on the front door handle. It was made of pure silver, a Wiccan tool for protection. I wiggled it twice to make sure it was secure.

“He wanted some help with a tarot reading,” she answered.

“Don’t forget the protective wreath for the front door, the one I made from elderberry branches and hawthorn root. I even worked in some dried roses. It’s rather pretty now and it will protect us against magic.”

Ava stopped and adjusted a small statue of a lynx on the coffee table, a talisman for maintaining secrecy. There was nothing wrong with its position. She just didn’t like how it looked. Ava was exacting. It made her a very good witch.

“Is there something wrong with his tarot reading for Dagny?” I asked.

“It’s not a perfect reading. But he doesn’t think it shows any immediate danger to her,” she said. “Dagny is too far away for me to get a reading on her myself. I know he’d prefer that.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“I think he’s going to send her tomorrow,” she answered.

“Will we be ready for her?” I asked.

We still had many tasks to accomplish. We had not finished casting the spells to safeguard the house. A salt, thyme and saffron potion needed to be rubbed on all the doors and windows. The floors needed to be coated in basil powder at least 13 times. Five protection symbols against evil spirits, negative energy, curses, discovery and harm were not yet burned into the floor of the basement. These rituals and tools camouflaged us from other witches. And they needed to be done before Dagny arrived.

We couldn’t take any chances. They killed Mom when she was Traveling. This was when we were most vulnerable. An angry inferno sparked inside of me. I twisted the screw hard. The wood inside the door cracked and split.

My first priority was still to protect Dagny. That was what Mom would want. I would make sure Dagny was safe. Then I would make them pay.

“Careful,” Ava said.

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We were twins by birth. Our connection was strong.

Traveling made it stronger. Ava sensed when I was on the verge of a raging outburst. My power was heavily based in the fire element.

Fire was unpredictable and hard to control. So were my emotions.

Keep calm. I know you’re thinking about what happened to Mom. For now try to focus on the spells. We will talk about how to get justice when Dagny is here and safe. Ava didn’t say this out loud. I heard it in my mind. The heat inside me cooled.

Ava sent her thoughts over the air and penetrated minds. It was an air element power, her element. It was much harder for me to do that spell. However, I could rip the door right off the hinges or throw a car ten feet. That sometimes came in handy too.

I picked up the hammer to hang the wreath. I tapped it in as lightly as possible. The nail went straight into the door.

“Are we ever really ready for her anyway?” Ava asked, half joking. “It’s not like she ever listens to us nor does what we say. We have to constantly watch her.”

Ava was trying to be funny. I didn’t find it amusing. It was our duty to protect Dagny, even from herself. She was our sister and our responsibility. I failed to protect my mother. I would not fail again.

“Do you ever think we should tell her?” I asked my sister.

Dagny was becoming too strong to control. We tried as best we could. Maye she wouldn’t be reckless if she knew the truth.

Ava stopped short and looked at me incredulously.

“That is a terrible idea,” she said. “You really want to tell her we do all of this not just because other Wiccans want to kill us but because she is part of some huge prophecy and is destined to destroy the world.”

Ava didn’t believe Dagny was mature enough to understand her power. She felt it was better to keep the truth from her, to protect her.

“We don’t know for sure she is the one,” I noted.

“I think it’s a pretty safe assumption,” Ava said. “The prophecy says the power of the Sun Goddess will return to Earth, born during the winter solstice to a fallow daughter of Dionus.

Dagny was born thirty years ago on the winter solstice. The fallow part always puzzled everyone. It must mean Travelers because Dionicians aren’t supposed to be able to have children, once they 39

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Travel and yet she’s here. We’re lucky we were born before Mom and Dad Traveled or we wouldn’t exist. And, don’t forget, a seer predicted Mom would have a child with the power of the Sun Goddess.”

That was not a detail a person could forget. We became Travelers because of that prediction. Our mother’s first husband, Thomas, married her because he wanted to be the father of the child with the power of the Goddess. When our mother didn’t have his child after almost a year, he became violent. She fled with our father.

They were able to hide for a while. They had us. But Thomas tracked our family. The only way to escape him forever was to Travel. Unfortunately, that meant we just traded one pursuer for another because Wiccan groups, particularly Aradnians, go out of their way to find Travelers and kill them.

Although Thomas was long dead, his story reminded us Wiccans always want to control the power of the Goddess. Traveling was the only way to keep Dagny hidden. There was no choice.

These were the harsh realities of our family. Unlike Dagny, Ava and I remembered them all. At times I envied Dagny. There were many things I wished I could forget.

“How much more proof do you need?” Ava continued.

She was right. All the evidence pointed to Dagny, including her immense power. But Dagny was evolving and maturing. When she was very young, it made sense to keep the truth from her. Now that she was older, it was harder to justify.

“We don’t know she’ll end the world,” I said. “I think it’s time to tell her the truth.”

“Did you bump your head recently?” Ava said, exasperated.

“What about the part of the prophecy that says the Moon God will give his power to an Aradnian bloodline the night a fiery star passes between the moon and the earth. When the two powers are reunited, it will bring forth a battle that will determine the fate of all Wiccan kind. So we will all probably be killed. Even Wiccan tribes that aren’t descendants of Aradnia or Dionus are afraid of the prophecy.

What do you think Dagny would do with all this information?”

“Something impulsive and reckless to make sure she never ended the world,” I conceded.

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Marc I pressed the clutch and kicked the gear with my heel; the wheels screeched. Music blared in my ears. It was pounding and aggressive. It matched the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I swerved onto the shoulder to avoid the car in front of me and then curved sharply back into the lane. The driver honked. I waved my hand as an apology. I wasn’t sorry, though. I needed the close call.

Six months ago, I would have laughed if someone said I would be driving a motorcycle down a highway outside of Los Angeles. Before this trip to my grandmother’s house, I had a routine.

I had coffee every morning. I drove in my sister’s old car to school. I did my homework. I read comic books. I went to bed at 11:45 every night. I was predictable. I was content.

Then one day, I had tea instead of coffee. The next day I didn’t do my homework. I know, shocking. All kids skip homework.

I never did. Soon I was jumping off cliffs into rivers. It was all to satisfy this growing need inside of me for something more. The only thing that came close was danger.

I pressed the clutch again, ready to go faster. The bike was old and barely more than a glorified scooter. It had some quirks but it drove well—it was my grandfather’s.

I found it broken in my grandmother’s garage. It took a little time but I finally fixed it enough to ride. At first, I wanted to take it apart just to see if I could put it back together. I liked to do things like that. I wanted to see how things worked and fit together. My grandmother encouraged me. She said I looked like him when I was working on the bike.

When I actually made it run, I had to try it out.

I kicked the gear and suddenly the bike lurched. It started to wobble. I tried to hold it steady. It shook uncontrollably. It was finally going to happen. I pushed it too far. Oh no, I was going to crash.

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Chapter 4

Jillian “Jillian, your brother’s on the phone,” my mother called. I picked up the line.

“What’s up, stupid,” I said.

“Love you too,” Marc responded.

“You can hang up now, Mom,” I said. I knew she was still listening.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, as though it was an accident. It was not. “See you tomorrow night, Sweetie.” Then there was a click.

“How’s Gram?” I asked. I knew she was fine. I was just making conversation.

“You know she never broke her hip, right? Where does Mom get these ideas? Anyway, I think I’ve finally got Gram settled back in her house. The pipe bursting right when I got here was really strange. I’m glad I was here to help her get everything fixed.”

“So why are calling me?” I said. We hadn’t talked once since he left. We were siblings, not friends.

“I need to tell you something so when Mom finds out you can help me keep her calm,” he said, quietly.

“What?” I asked. Part of me hoped he had done something really awful. Maybe he got arrested. That would be too good to be 42

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true. I would never be so lucky. I wished he’d make at least one little mistake. Just one.

“I was in a motorcycle accident yesterday,” he said.

Just the idea of Marc on a motorcycle would make Mom angry. This story had potential.

“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” I asked.

“It was in Gram’s garage. I fixed it up. I just wanted to try something new.”

“Since when do you try something new?” I said.

The answer was never. He was Mr. Slow and Steady. Given how close he was to his Awakening, this change in his personality was not a complete surprise, though. In the weeks leading up to my Awakening, I also felt off. I didn’t go out and ride a motorcycle but I was definitely restless. Maybe his pre-pubescent Wicca experience was more intense than mine. Or maybe I just handled it better.

Finally, one way he was flawed. I felt a moment of sympathy for him.

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Anyway, I’m fine. I have a big gash down the right side of my neck. It’s healing really fast, though, so don’t worry. The doctor said he’d never seen anyone heal so fast.”

Of course, he was so perfect he even healed faster than everyone else. That was completely unfair—sympathy gone.

“The cut is pretty obvious. I won’t be able to hide it from Mom,” he said.

“Are you going to tell her you were on a motorcycle?” I asked.

“I was hoping I could just say ‘bike’ and keep it vague. Will you help me out? Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to do anything more than agree with me when I tell Mom it’s no big deal. OK?” I didn’t like to do my brother favors. Life was already easy for him. He was a straight A student, even though he never studied.

Everyone loved him, no matter what he did. Plus, he always got what he wanted. He was the worst. Still, he was my brother.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Thanks, Jill. How are you doing, by the way?” he asked. I hated his sincerity. He really wanted to know how I was. I didn’t care how he was. OK, maybe I cared a little.

The truth was I wanted Marc to come home. After my stepfather found me in his room, he didn’t turn me into a toad.

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Instead, he made me practice spells every day and tested my progress. I think I’d prefer to be a toad. I didn’t like this new interest in my abilities. But there was no one I could talk to about it. At least when Marc turned seventeen I could talk to someone. Even if it was my stupid younger brother.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Nothing new happening.”

“Good. Talk to you later,” he said and hung up.

Now, I had to decide what to do next, help my brother with his Awakening or let him squirm.

Dagny My pathetic suitcase lay open on the bed. There wasn’t much to put in it—a toothbrush, a book and the paltry amount of clothes Ava picked out before she left, mostly long skirts and blouses. We did not have the same taste.

I wasn’t allowed to leave the motel. So I was stuck with antiquated clothes, except for my scarf, my father bought that. He said he saw it and thought of me. It was just a simple red striped piece of cloth. I loved it.

All of my possessions filled less than half of a carry-on bag.

Was this really living? Only for Monks. I didn’t want to be a Monk.

I wanted to be a normal teenager. I craved it more than anything. It was never going to happen.

I grabbed a bag of potato chips and stuffed one in my mouth.

I wished it was chocolate.

“Dagny, I suggest you eat an apple,” Dad said, without looking up from his tarot cards. He was seated at the small desk in our room that also served as our dining room table. “You cannot survive only on, what did your sister call it, junk food.”

I flopped down on the bed and shoved another chip in my mouth, crunching loudly.

“Dad, do you really need to do another reading? It hasn’t changed,” I said, knowing he would not respond.

My father had performed the tarot reading over and over.

The exact same symbols appeared every time. After consulting with my sister, they decided the reading was unusual but not necessarily negative. So, we bought my plane ticket.

“What time’s my flight again?” I asked.

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“It is at 5:17 this evening,” he answered.

It was only late morning. We had several hours left.

My father gathered the cards and started to lay them out again. At this point, I figured he just needed an activity. TV bored him. He never understood the appeal. I couldn’t recall having a TV in any of our old houses, just another way we were weird.

“Dad, can we get a TV at our new house? When the kids at school start talking about some show, I want to at least know what they are talking about.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

It would be nice if my family could actually live in the modern era and not just take up space here. My father, like all of my family, preferred to read books. Ava read Dickens and Austen. Jason read books about history and war. My father favored books on nature. I read, well, anything. We didn’t have very many books in this motel room. Trips outside were for necessity not entertainment.

My father did buy me a used copy of my favorite book at a nearby bookstore—Atlas Shrugged. My mother named me after the main character because she said she knew I would be strong and independent. Boy did she get that wrong.

I tugged at my skirt. It was long and restrictive. I’d had enough of it. I held up my index finger. The heat from the ground flowed into my body. I channeled it into a single point—my finger— and ran it across the skirt in a circle. The bottom half fell away, freeing my legs.

“Your sister is not going to be pleased you cut off that skirt,” Dad said.

I didn’t care. I felt a moment of rebellious freedom.

My father subdued a grin. This was one of the many things I loved about him. He never outwardly criticized. He just observed.

“Dad, I want to finish our conversation from last night,” I said.

I still had so many questions.

“Alright.” He turned away from the cards again and looked at me.

“You said we aren’t like other Travelers because we don’t kill people. But did you ever Travel into a body that was alive?” I asked, worried. I didn’t want to think my mother and father were less than perfect.

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He rubbed his hand across his mouth, a clear sign he was uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he finally admitted. “However, it was because we were forced to Travel. We did not choose this life. Centuries ago we did not have the resources or knowledge we have today to plan.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He paused and looked at me closely. It was uncomfortable.

“Do you remember preparing to Travel?”

I nodded yes. It was a lie.

He raised his left eyebrow. Guiltily, I changed my answer and shook my head no.

“Well, your mother saw warning signs. She was a water witch,” he said. “So she connected easily to the spirit realm.”

Water, constant and fluid, was the element of the spirits. My mother would sit near any body of water for hours muttering and chanting. She was happiest when we lived near the ocean or on a lake.

There was a sudden flash in my mind, a memory. She was standing on the edge of a pond with her bare feet in the water. She needed to tell me something important. She called me to her. But I couldn’t move the memory forward. It was blocked.

“Dagny? Are you alright?”

My father looked worried.

“Why? I’m fine.”

“You suddenly became very pale,” he said.

“I’m fine. So, the spirits warned Mom?” “Yes, they spoke to her through dreams and sometimes nightmares. They warned her when Wiccans were planning to attack us again. As soon as the nightmares started, we began our search for new bodies. Today, when we need to Travel, we search newspapers and the internet to find recently deceased people, preferably families. As soon as we find a suitable one, we enact the spell.”

“The Raven spell,” I said.

“Yes, however, the first time we Traveled we could not just search for dead bodies. We did not even know we could Travel into dead bodies. So we Traveled into bodies that were alive,” he said.

“How do you Travel into a body that is alive?” I asked.

“Do you recall the auras you see when you Travel? Normal humans are the very dull colors. The brighter ones are Wiccans of all 46

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types, Aradnians, Dionicians, Terrans, Spiritualists. There are many sects. When you are flying on the wings of the raven you can direct your energy toward anything. To Travel into a body, you direct yourself toward one of those auras. Do you remember the lights?”

“Yes,” I said. This time it was the truth. “How many of the lights are Travelers?”

“Very few, only the brightest ones, the powerful ones,” he answered. “We become more powerful each time we Travel, especially if we Travel into the bodies of other Wiccans. This makes all Wiccans fear us. Fear breeds insanity. That is why we need to avoid all witches, not only Aradnians.”

I reached down in my bag for more chips and came up empty handed. I tossed the bag on the floor and mumbled that I would pick it up later. This was too important to interrupt.

“Only the Aradnians try to kill us? That’s who killed Mom?” I asked. It seemed crazy. We didn’t do anything to them.

“Yes.” His voice cracked. “And they succeeded in killing someone in our family once before as well.”

“What do you mean?” That is what Ava meant when she said: No, not again.

He was reticent to answer. His youngest daughter was older than all the other 16-year-olds in the world. Yet, I was still young and innocent to him.

“You know there is a large difference in age between you and your siblings. They were born before we Traveled,” he explained.

I nodded. This I remembered.

“You had another sister,” he said, continuing. “Her name was Cassie.” The ache in his voice was palpable.

“I forgot my sister,” I gulped. I couldn’t believe it—I had never forgotten anything like that before.

“No, no. I know you forget things. But you have never forgotten your family. Cassie died before you were born. The Aradnians killed her. Your mother and I were devastated. It is one of the reasons we are so protective of you. We could not stand to lose another child and you are still young and vulnerable.”

“Who exactly are they?” And can we find them and make them pay? I didn’t ask the second question but I wanted to.

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“We don’t know. Cassie died over one hundred years ago.

Those were different witches who killed her. However, the magic they use, like all magic, has a certain fingerprint. The witches who killed your mother are connected to the ones that killed Cassie in some way. We can sense that. They could be some sort of family or fraternity. We are unsure. We could try to locate them,” he admitted.

“I know that is what you are wondering. It would be very difficult and it would run the risk revealing ourselves to them. We do not know how many there are. They could easily destroy us. Now, I think that’s enough for a while.”

“Please,” I said, begging. “Just one more question.”

“Alright,” he said. “One more.”

I had so many I wasn’t sure which one to choose. There was one particular question bugging me that I needed answered.

“Why were you forced to Travel?”

He looked surprised at my question.

“Well, your mother was married before me to a very terrible man named Thomas. He hurt her. After she ran away with me, he was relentless in finding her. To him, your mother was a possession that had been stolen. We managed to hide from him for many years.

We had Ava, Jason and Cassie. We were happy. However, he found us again and again. Eventually, the only way to truly escape him was to Travel.”

“I thought only the strongest bloodlines could Travel. Were you sure you both could do it? What about Ava, Jason and Cassie?”

“We agreed one more question,” he said, laughing.

“This is really just a continuation of the last question,” I said, bargaining, and gave him my best pleading look, complete with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I had no doubt about your mother,” he said. “Her bloodline was one of the most powerful. I was only uncertain about myself.

We tried Traveling first before we showed the children how to do it.

We didn’t want to risk their lives. We also did not want to kill anyone. Therefore, we aimed for people who were already dying.

We managed to Travel into bodies with faded black auras, the kind with no chance of survival.”

“What happened?” I asked, enthralled.

“It worked, obviously. Thomas thought we were dead. We left our old bodies somewhere he could find. My new body 48

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recovered quickly from what had been a death sentence to the man.

Your mother, however, became sicker. I suggested she try someone whose aura was not so dim. She would not kill someone who had a chance to live. Finally, I convinced her to try another dying body.

The second body responded. This was how we concluded there were ailments we could heal and ailments we could not. Eventually, we tried healing and resurrecting dead bodies based on this knowledge.”

“But what…”

My father put his hand up. He looked at the clock.

“Dagny, it’s time to go.”

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Chapter 5

Marc It’s not polite to stare. That was just one piece of wisdom courtesy of my mother. Other gems included the right haircut is critical for success and white lies are the staple of any good relationship.

I was a sane human being and didn’t take my mother too seriously. Occasionally, she got it right, though. I shouldn’t stare.

Yet, here I was, stopped in the middle of a mass of impatient travelers, staring.

The reason was a girl. She was not just any girl. I didn’t just stop and ogle beautiful girls all the time. I wasn’t that guy. This girl was different. She stood out. In a sea of monochromatic people, she practically glowed. My stomach knotted, inexplicably.

She was wearing a loose striped red scarf and her partially bare leg dangled over the arm of a chair as she read a book.

Casually, she twirled her blonde hair, streaked with hints of red. She had the gentle movement of Audrey Hepburn and the determined yet aloof expression of Katherine. I halfheartedly thanked my mother for forcing me to watch old movies.

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An impatient passerby bumped me and I snapped out of my daze. I needed to stop staring and start talking, before I lost my chance. I took a step toward her.

Abruptly, she shut her book and disappeared into the crowd at the gangway. Just like that, she and the twisting in my stomach were gone.

I was filled immediately with confusion and foolishness.

Two very uncomfortable feelings, two feelings I hated. Why did I have such a strange reaction to a total stranger anyway? It had to be hormones. Nothing else made sense. With that thought, I popped in my earphones and forged ahead.

It took about a hundred years to get to my seat, mostly thanks to three middle-aged men who stood frozen in the aisle, staring at something. Stretching to see over their heads, I realized they were wantonly watching a young woman try to hoist a bag into the overhead bin. I rolled my eyes. These were the kind of guys who stopped and ogled at random girls. Disgusted, I pushed aside the gawkers and went to help her.

I reached down and lifted the bag into the stowing area.

When it was safely stowed, I looked down and noticed the red scarf.

It was her. It was the Hepburn girl.

My chivalry earned me a reluctant smile and brief eye contact. It was long enough to see the unusual color of her irises.

The outside ring was a sun-soaked yellow that became dark green around her pupil. It reminded me of a sunflower.

Although the chances were about the same as flipping a coin a hundred times and having it always land on heads, I glanced at the bulkhead and hoped this was my seat. Amazingly, I landed on heads.

I was the aisle seat to her window. My stomach knotted again and I eagerly slid into my seat. There was one empty seat between us.

Her golden-red hair waved downward, covering her face. I wondered if it was as soft as I imagined. I felt the urge to touch it.

What was wrong with me? As though she sensed my silent attention, she looked up.

“Oh, hi,” she said, with no inflection.

I couldn’t tell if she was happy or not about having me as a neighbor.

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“Hey,” I said. I wanted to sound casual. Instead, it came out enthusiastic. I was clearly happy to be her neighbor. “Are you headed to Vegas or Virginia?”

“Is that where we’re going?” she replied as though she just picked a plane at random.

“Are you kidding?”

“I move around a lot.” It sounded like a real answer but it could have been a joke.

She returned to her book and shifted away from me demonstrably. My excitement deflated. Then, abruptly, she turned.

“What are you listening to?” she asked.

I’d forgotten music was still playing in my ears. A curl of her fingers told me she wanted my phone. I gave it over willingly.

She tapped a few times on the screen, put one bud in her ear and then thrust the other one toward me. “This one is good,” she said, simply.

She relaxed against the headrest and looked up at the ceiling.

Drowsily, her eyes closed. Her head nodded back and forth.

Tentatively, I placed the other bud in my ear as I watched her. My stomach twisted with anticipation.

“It’s such a great contrast, his voice and the background vocals. It’s beautiful and moving especially when you consider the lyrics,” she said, her eyes still closed.

I had never paid any attention to lyrics before. But, at this moment, I was willing to believe lyrics were the most important part of a song, if she said so.

Why did I feel this way? I didn’t even really know what “this way” meant. I just felt different. I felt awake, really awake, as if I drank fifty high-caffeine energy drinks. Wait. I knew this feeling. I felt this just before I jumped off a cliff into raging waters or stood on the edge of a track with a train barreling toward me. I felt alive.

A disembodied voice cut sharply into my meditation.

Crackling over the speaker it announced the beverage options.

Suddenly, I realized we’d lifted off. I looked down at the seat between us. It was still empty. My stomach flipped with excitement.

Our time was limited. I only had an hour and 20 minutes to learn as much as I could about the mysterious girl next to me.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Oh, all over,” she said.

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That answer was deeply unsatisfying. I needed more.

“Do you have a favorite place you’ve lived?”

“Everywhere has something special,” she said, as she reached down to the floor and pulled up a large sack resembling a purse. She peeled the sides back and peered inside. Dissatisfied, she shoved it back under the seat.

“So, where are your parents?” I asked.

“Home.”

“Where’s home?” This was a direct question. It would get a direct answer. I was sure of it.

“It’s where the heart is,” she answered, evasively.

She bent down again and retrieved her purse. This time she shoved her hands deep inside. It swallowed her arm up to her elbow.

She let out an exasperated breath and gave up on her search. The bag slid back to the floor and she picked up the in-flight magazine.

“So, have you been to Vegas before?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you that. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” she said, tapping an ad in the magazine with these exact words.

It was time to try a new tactic. Maybe I needed to tell her something about me to start the conversation.

“I saw you’re reading a book. I’m really into comic books.

My favorite is the Elementals,” I said.

Tell me something, I willed. Tell me about what you’re reading. Tell me to mind my own business. Tell me you hate comic books and think I’m a nerd. Anything.

Instead she lifted her eyebrows in silent comprehension. That didn’t work.

She was like a politician. The only thing I really discovered was that she desperately wanted to find something in her purse.

After she shoved the sack-like bag under her seat with a huff for the fifth time, she asked, “You have any gum?”

Was she looking for gum this whole time? Maybe her ears were clogged. Maybe flying made her nauseous. Mint helped with that. Maybe she has oral fixation issues. Normally, I didn’t try to extrapolate so much from a person’s desire for gum, I swear. I was grasping at any information about her. It was driving me crazy that I could talk to her for an hour and learn nothing except that she couldn’t find gum.

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“No, sorry,” I said. Although I wished I did. I wanted nothing more than to solve her eternal struggle with her purse.

“No worries.” She yawned and looked out the window at the fading sunlight.

After a few moments of silence, she laid her head down in the middle seat. She was so small she could curl up like a kitten. A pile of her hair rested on my lap. I debated how completely insane it would be to touch it. If I waited until she was asleep, she’d never know. What was the big deal?

The top of her head pressed lightly into my thigh. My lips vibrated as I hummed a Pixies tune stuck in my head.

“Wave of Mutilation?” she whispered.

“You like the Pixies?” I asked, seizing a potential moment.

“Mmmhmmm. Play it again, Sam,” she said, dreamily.

“Casablanca?” I asked, trying to keep the discoveries going.

“Yes,” she answered. “It’s my favorite movie. That’s not actually the quote, though. It’s ‘Play it once, Sam. For old times’ sake.’” Her words seemed to be lost in a dream world.

“My favorite movie is The Godfather,” I whispered, doubting she heard me. Even if she did, she probably didn’t care. She didn’t seem interested in me at all.

Again, I noticed her hair splayed across my leg. Keep your hormones in check, I told myself. But I was wrong before. No endocrine gland was in control here. This was something else.

She was now breathing rhythmically. I’d never see this girl again. Why not? That was all I needed. My fingers slipped slowly across a lock of her hair. I was definitely going crazy.

After only 15 minutes she opened her eyes and sat up with a look of panic.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“I dreamed about you.” As the words escaped her lips, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Really? That’s funny.” I tried to sound casual. “What happened in your dream?”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbled. She bit her lip and tucked a hand into her scarf. She pulled it back and forth nervously. “We have a layover in Vegas, right?”

So she was headed for Virginia.

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“Yeah, for about four hours.” It was actually 4 hours and 18 minutes.

She looked at me curiously and then said, “We can do some damage in 4 hours.”

“Maybe if we were twenty-one with a gold card; at sixteen with a few bucks to my name, I’ll only scuff it up a little,” I said, assuming she was joking.

Her previously tense lips relaxed and moved to a sly sideways position. “You seem older,” she observed.

“I’ll be seventeen in the next few days,” I offered, matching her grin with one of my own.

“Oh yes, well, clearly that explains it,” she said, jokingly.

I liked this sudden change in attitude.

“I’m sixteen too,” she added. “What’s your name?”

I suddenly felt like I was standing on a cliff. I stared down at the rushing water below. With the next word I was about to jump and freefall.

“Marc.”

“Nice to meet you, Marc. I’m Dagny.”

Dagny It began simply. We were kissing. This was the longest part of the dream or at least the part I remembered most vividly. The rest was a jumble, him taking my hand, us lying in the grass, me yelling and slamming a door. The ups and downs felt natural, like the life of a normal couple. The final image, the one that woke me with an almost violent start, was our two wrinkled hands intertwined.

“So, I want to hear about this dream,” Marc said. He was teasing me. I liked it.

“I told you I don’t remember,” I answered, uncomfortably.

Up until this point I had done a laudable job of evading my interest in him. I was not taken in by his affable nature. I was definitely not mesmerized by the way his gray-blue eyes crinkled at the edges into small triangles when he smiled. His long, prestigious nose and chiseled angular jaw also had no effect on me. Neither did the sexy scar on his neck. Also, I refused to be influenced by the way his muscular arms looked in his t-shirt. Some might say he was “cut” but I really didn’t notice.

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Marc’s steel blue eyes glanced at me and my chest tightened.

I was such a liar.

“Folks, this is the Captain speaking, we are preparing for our final decent,” said the voice over the loudspeaker. “For those of you who are headed to Dulles airport in Virginia after the layover, it looks as though due to a weather pattern in the East, we will not be able to get you there this evening. Please go to the ticket counter for assistance with lodging or re-booking flights.”

What did he say? We would have to stay in Vegas overnight?

Excitement involuntarily rocketed through my body.

“I guess we’ll have more than 4 hours,” Marc said. My heart quickened.

The plane dropped suddenly and then leveled off. I grabbed the armrest and took a calming breath. I could Travel above the world on the wings of a raven but I hated to do it with just the wings of a plane. I’d rather fly using magic. It seemed safer.

My mother always held my hand on the landing. She’d squeeze it tightly and I would know it would be OK. I choked back a sob. She would never do that again.

Marc placed his palm on my hand. “You OK?” he asked.

The gesture was intimate, too intimate. I pulled my hand away. It was pointless. Sure, he was possibly attracted to this body.

It was just a body, though. What would happen when he met the real me? I had been very careful with everything I said, so far. But I didn’t remember some of the most basic things. I would say something dumb. It was inevitable. He would start to see there is something wrong with me, that I’m not a real person. I’m just a broken soul wearing a person as a costume. Why would he want that?

He put his hand back in his lap awkwardly. The plane lurched and shook. I gripped the armrest tighter. His hand tensed as though he wanted to try to comfort me again. Shame washed over me.

The tires struck the tarmac and screeched as the plane finally touched down. Our bodies fought to stay still as the pilot yanked the break. Finally, the plane slowed and started taxiing to the gate.

We sat silently as the people funneled out of the plane. When it was our turn, Marc pulled down our bags from the overhead bin.

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He lifted the handle out of my bag for me and gestured for me to exit first—a true gentleman.

“Thanks,” I muttered, guiltily. My shame ballooned.

Enough. I was with an adorable, kind guy and had one night in Vegas. No more self-loathing and pity. I was going to have fun.

Yes, fun. I wasn’t sure my family knew the meaning of that word.

Pushing aside their dreary, disapproving faces from my mind was surprisingly easy. When I looked at Marc’s steel blue eyes, I nearly forgot all about my family.

“So, you know any good hotels in Vegas?” I asked as we entered the airport, hoping he still had some interest in me.

“Well, my best friend Cody stayed at the Venetian with his family once. Since the airline is paying they will probably put us up in a gross Super 8 or something,” he answered, coolly.

I had no idea what a Super 8 was exactly but it sounded awful.

“We should go to the Venetian,” I said, emphasizing the “we.”

He looked perplexed. I couldn’t blame him. It was hard enough to figure out a normal girl. Good luck figuring out an insecure witch inhabiting someone else’s body.

“That might be hard. I think you need to be at least 18 to rent a room. I can call and find out. I have a credit card. I’m not sure my limit would cover it. People usually plan to stay there weeks ahead of time.”

“I take it you’re not Mr. Spontaneous?” I joked. “Don’t worry about being 18. Just call the hotel and reserve a room in my name, Dagny Bennet. Oh, and give me your license.”

He pulled out his wallet and hesitated as he handed me his ID. “Umm, what are you going to do with it?” he asked.

“I’m going to make some fake IDs. I only need an hour. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“You can’t. Last I checked, what I’m about to do is illegalish,” I said, laughing.

“I don’t think there’s any ‘ish’ about it,” he said, in a very serious tone. He swiveled his head to see if any of the people in the 57

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terminal were listening. “I want to be there in case something happens.”

His protective instinct was cute. But I had to do this alone.

“One person attracts less attention than two,” I explained.

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. The second I decided to be independent from my family, I suddenly felt as if I was going to explode with excitement. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.”

“That’s reassuring,” he grumbled.

Once in a cab, I told the driver to take me down to the main strip. I really had no idea where I was instructing him to go. My knowledge of Las Vegas consisted of the article I briefly glanced through on the plane. The driver nodded and grunted, which seemed like cab driver speak for OK. Even before the vast expanse of sand fell away and the full city came into view, I was in awe. This little oasis in the desert was definitely not so little. In fact, the enormity and detail was like nothing I’d ever seen before, at least that I could recall. I wanted to reach inside every building and turn it inside out.

I wished Mom could see this.

Thoughts of her suddenly raced to the surface. Couldn’t I have one night without the pain? I wondered if she would fade like the memories of past bodies, past lives. Wait. Where was the book Dad bought me? Shoot, did I lose it again? Grabbing my purse, I immediately felt its weight and relaxed.

I opened it quickly and saw an inscription that only existed in my memory now—“To my Dagny, my love, always remember your worth.”

Suddenly, I looked out the window and realized the streets were filled with people. This must be the main strip, as they called it in the magazine.

“Stop at the next bar please,” I told the driver.

Even though it was dusk, the dry sun beat down on my shoulders. I walked toward a small door with a sign overhead that said simply “Bar” in neon. Inside it was like another world. It was dark and cool. The floors were sleek black. A granite and steel bar with wine glasses dangling above it cut a U through the middle of the room. Low, white leather couches hugged the walls.

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There were several trendy-looking couples at the bar. I needed a young couple. No one would believe we were 32. I spotted a young woman and man at the back of the bar. Both looked sufficiently youthful and drunk.

“Hey, you,” the bartender said as I moved toward them. He was going to ask me for my ID. I flicked my wrist and a wine glass came crashing down next to him. He cursed and bent over to clean it up, forgetting all about me.

The young woman wore Gucci flats and large, expensive looking diamond earrings. Her purse, like her eyes, was half open.

The boy, in a polo shirt and khakis, wobbled next to her, leaning in now and again to whisper something in her ear. The imprint of his wallet was clearly visible in his back pocket. I looked at her left earring and imagined it slipping off her ear. Seconds later it was on the floor. She didn’t notice.

“Excuse me,” I said as I walked up to them. “I think you lost your earring.”

The girl grabbed her ear and looked around frantically. The pair dove to the floor. Quickly, I tucked my hand inside her purse and grabbed her wallet. Then, I slid the boy’s wallet out of his back pocket.

I escaped into the bathroom and locked the door. A slight feeling of guilt tickled me. I hoped the loss of the IDs wouldn’t cause this couple too much trouble.

I took out Marc’s ID and pressed it against the one I had stolen. It was a matter of willing the information to transfer from one object to the other. This was an easy spell, simple visualization.

In my magical mind’s eye, I imagined the picture changing and the letters rearranging. The air whistled and buzzed as I called on its power, the source of most transference spells. When I separated the IDs Marc’s face and name appeared on the stolen ID. I repeated the act with my ID. Then, I scurried out of the bar.

Marc was waiting in the lobby of the Venetian when I arrived.

“Here you go.” I tossed him his old ID and his new fake one.

He examined them both closely.

“Where did you get this? It’s really good.”

“I can’t tell you, a girl needs her secrets,” I answered, evasively.

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“No, seriously. These are legit good. How did you do that so fast?” he said, pressing the issue.

Oh, no. This was me slipping up. I should have taken longer.

I should have thought of a good explanation. Instead I said the first thing that came to mind.

“Let’s just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” I had heard that somewhere. I couldn’t remember where, maybe a movie.

“Hey, how’d you get that scar anyway?” I asked, hoping to change the subject. I wanted to know the answer but I was too embarrassed before to ask. At this point, I’d rather be embarrassed than exposed for being different.

“Motorcycle accident,” he said, shrugging.

There were no minor motorcycle accidents. Motorcycles were dangerous. In fact, only people with great nerve or great stupidity rode motorcycles. He was not stupid. I bit my lower lip to calm my desire to grab him and kiss him.

“When?” I asked. I wanted to drag my finger down his neck.

“It was a few days ago,” he said.

“Really? It looks like it healed fast.”

That scar looked more than a few days old. When you revive dead bodies to survive, you know a thing or two about healing. For example, cancer was not something a Traveler could heal. It invades the body and replicates quickly. We couldn’t just go in and magically fix that. It would take too much power. We couldn’t hold on that long to a diseased body. However, broken bones, head trauma, even gunshot wounds, those things we could heal.

Therefore, we had to find bodies that died from some sort of physical trauma, rather than a disease. We restarted the heart, got the blood pumping and pulled power from the elements to mend the body.

“I’m a fast healer or so the doctor told me,” he said.

For a second, I began to worry. What if he wasn’t just a human? I took a deep breath to calm myself. No, I was being paranoid. Marc was just a human boy and we were going to have some good old fashioned human fun.

“I need to go check in,” I said. I turned and walked away quickly.

I came back with two keys to one room, hoping that wasn’t too presumptuous, and handed him one.

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“This hotel is expensive. I can’t let you pay for this,” he said.

“Look, I’m not some rich girl, it’s just that…,” I paused. I couldn’t believe I was about to say this. “I just lost my Mom. And for one night, I want to be distracted.”

He looked at me, suddenly overcome by a perilously beautiful expression—guilt and sympathy. He lifted up his hand and brushed his knuckles lightly across the side of my cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

I felt heavy with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. I needed to sit down. Marc gave our bags to the bellhop, told him our room number and handed him a tip. Then, he ushered me to the elevator.

The strange thing was I let him.

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Chapter 6 Marc My arm curved around her shoulders and her body folded into mine. She didn’t seem to mind a stranger holding her. Maybe she sensed I understood what she was feeling. My father didn’t die.

But he definitely left my life suddenly. All she wanted was to leave behind the pain and heartbreak for one night. All I wanted to do was help her.

That was not how it went.

As soon as we reached the hotel room, Dagny abruptly broke away from me. She looked me up and down.

“I’ll be back,” she said, grabbing her key and walking out the door before I could speak.

That was 2 hours and 27 minutes ago. I started to wonder if she was coming back. What was I thinking? I knew nothing about this girl except she was excellent at making fake IDs. This was crazy. The logical, sane choice was to leave. I didn’t move.

Finally, the door clicked and she entered.

“Where have you been? It’s been over 2 hours. I’ve been worried.” I couldn’t stop my mouth from going off but she barely reacted.

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She was wearing a short red dress covered in fringes that made a swishing sound as she walked. Her hair fell in loose, messy curls around her shoulders. She was a few inches taller in shimmering red stilettos, which were buckled incorrectly so that a piece was jutting out at an angle perpendicular to her body. Her hands were covered in thin lace gloves that were missing the fingertips. It was an unusual outfit that probably should not have worked. On her, the mismatched pieces just made sense.

She tossed a large, black garment bag at me. I snapped out of my trance just in time to catch it.

“It’s much easier to pass for older when you’re dressed to the nines,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“I hate to disappoint you, I only dress to the eights,” I said, jokingly, as I unfolded the sack. Inside was a charcoal black suit, white shirt and a thin gray plaid tie.

My expression must have shown my horror.

“Just be happy I didn’t go for the powder blue one,” she offered, playfully.

The last time I wore a suit I was 12. My mother picked it out at a thrift shop. It was two sizes too big.

“Too bad, I hear powder blue is the new black.” I attempted to make light of the situation but there was nothing light about this suit. This was not my mother’s suit. This suit was tailored. This suit was expensive.

“We can return it tomorrow. Just don’t spill anything on it,” she said.

I opened my mouth to object and then snapped it shut again.

I changed in the bathroom. The suit fit surprisingly well but she didn’t bring me shoes. I slipped on my converse.

“They don’t exactly go,” I said, staring at my feet. When I looked up and saw her, the words, “You look beautiful,” tumbled out of my mouth.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she responded, blushing.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to see where the night takes us.” She gave me that impish grin I now knew meant trouble in the best possible sense. “It is Vegas. Let’s throw caution to the wind.”

“Let’s just not throw it too far.”

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She laughed. “You really can’t stand not having some sort of a plan, can you?” She was surprisingly intuitive.

“I guess I do like to have some idea of what is going to happen,” I admitted.

“Alright then, we’ll gamble a little and then come back and watch a movie.”

“OK, how about blackjack,” I suggested. I’d played online.

Plus, I knew how to play the percentages.

“Good, now we have a plan. Feel better?” she said, turning and walking toward the door. She stopped mid-stride and grabbed my arm. “Wait, we have a serious problem.”

Dagny With my belly full of a chocolate croissant, I hooked my arm into his and we walked into the heart of the glowing city. Thousands of people and a cacophony of sounds clogged the street. It was exhilarating and liberating, especially compared with the past few weeks in a suffocating motel room with my father.

“Good to know your serious problems are so easy to fix,” he said.

“What can I say? When I need chocolate, I need chocolate.”

I licked the tips of my fingers one last time to make sure I didn’t miss any of the gooey goodness. He laughed. I liked to see him laugh.

“How about this place?” he suggested, gesturing to a casino just up the road. “It’s not in one of the big hotels. They might be a little more lax. We might not even need to use the fake IDs. I’d like to break the law as little as possible.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.”

We walked into the casino. It had some sort of Polynesian theme. The tables were housed beneath grass structures held up by plastic bamboo. Fake volcanoes spewed real fire and the waitresses wandered around in coconut bikini bras.

Old-time crooners purred through the speakers as alarms and bells rang out from every direction. The roulette balls whirled creating a low drum-like sound. It was as though the world had turned on every noise at once. It was thrilling. I almost felt dizzy.

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“Let’s go off to blackjack and we’ll win some money. Then, I’ll go and spend it all on my honey,” Marc sang in tune that mimicked the old jazz standard coming from the speakers.

“Did you just make that up?”

“I did,” he said. “You like?”

“You’re quite the song writer,” I said, chuckling.

“Well, I’m no Irving Berlin. I think I could give Weird Al a run for his money, though,” he offered with a roguish nod.

He suddenly cleared his throat. “I, uh, need to hit an ATM.” “I’ll get some drinks and find us a hot table,” I replied.

“A hot table?”

“Full of people and distractions. We’re gonna need a lot of distractions tonight.”

Distractions were important, for many reasons, including keeping me from getting carried away by my feelings. Marc looked at me as though I was a real person. In fact, around him I almost forgot I was a freak in a strange body. Almost.

I couldn’t act on these feelings. This night could only be a fun break from my family and their constant hovering, nothing more.

I spotted a man in a cowboy hat. His plump wife guffawed loudly and slapped him on the arm. Perfect. I sauntered over to the table.

After I handed the dealer some money, he laid down two cards in front of me. My rudimentary understanding of this game wasn’t going to get me far. I flagged down the waitress.

“A Newcastle and a glass of cabernet, please,” I asked, sweetly, projecting an aura of maturity. She nodded without a hint of suspicion.

Marc found me quickly. Glancing casually at the dealer, I made sure he saw a man and a woman, aged 21. To sweeten the effect, I fluttered my eye seductively. My mouth opened, ready to field the question I knew was coming.

“Well, you two look barely 18,” boomed a southern voice in a jovial manner.

“We have good plastic surgeons.” Marc winked at the wife.

She giggled like a schoolgirl.

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Marc’s charm was undeniable. The wife was clearly smitten after less than a minute. I had to actively stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“Any advice?” I whispered in his ear as I collected my chips.

He looked at me pensively and said, “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.” A broad smile stretched across his face.

It seemed as though I was supposed to know what he meant.

So I smiled back.

The man in the hat lifted his eyes and directed them at my chest. Marc’s face darkened.

“Maybe you should focus on the game,” Marc said, frostily.

Cowboy hat cleared his throat and looked back down at the table.

A sudden awareness struck me: Marc was not someone to trifle with. He was tall and he had long arms and large hands that were taut and sturdy. His demeanor was casual and controlled. But he had an edge. If pushed too far, he would strike. That could be dangerous. My breath quivered.

Marc casually leaned half off his chair with one foot on the ground and one elbow on the corner of the table. Every so often he amiably brushed back his thick black hair as he conversed with the couple.

“Where are you from in Texas, Myra?” Marc asked, using her first name. Her large round cheeks blushed at the attention. They were nearly the same color as her curling red hair.

“How’d you know we were from Texas?” Myra asked. “And how’d you know my name?”

How did he know that?

“Your fantastic accent for one,” he answered. “And your necklace says your name.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, giggling. The red in her cheeks deepened and she tapped the necklace with her fingers.

Marc was extremely perceptive. That was not good. I had to be careful when I used magic around him. Unlike most humans, he might notice something unusual. Then this game of pretend would be over. He’d sense I was different. He wouldn’t look at me the same way.

“We’re from Dallas,” said the man.

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“Home of the Cowboys and the Mavs,” Marc observed, as he waived his hand over the cards. The dealer moved on to the Texan.

“I don’t watch that basketball stuff but we do love our Cowboys.”

“I hear they may get that new Quarterback out of Alabama. It could be a good year for them,” Marc noted.

“We are mighty excited about that,” the Texan said, slapping Marc on the back. He didn’t flinch.

Marc leaned down and whispered in my ear, “For the record, basketball is way better than football.”

“Good to know. Do you play?” I whispered back.

“Just on the school team,” he said.

The dealer flipped Marc’s cards—a queen and a king.

The dealer had 18.

“You won, again,” I exclaimed.

The dealer stacked several more chips and pushed them toward Marc. His winnings were now over a thousand dollars, if I was counting right. It was a lot of money to win and to lose.

“Yeah, I guess I’m on a roll. It could happen to anyone,” Marc said, dismissively.

It didn’t seem like that to me. He played the game with uncanny precision while he also effortlessly chatted with Myra or her husband. It was like watching two different people inside the same body. The irony of this statement was not lost on me. One was a confident, casual charmer. The other was a focused, determined gamer. Both were completely real, unlike me.

“Your girlfriend isn’t doing as good,” the Texan said. “It’s not her fault. Women aren’t good at gambling.”

I liked this guy less and less every minute. Marc’s jaw clenched noticeably. He didn’t like him either.

While Marc’s attention was elsewhere, my fingers covertly crossed the table and rested on a few of Marc’s chips. As furtively as possible, I slipped them into my purse.

“Hit,” Marc said to the dealer.

A girl in a grass shirt and bikini top walked up to the table.

The Texan ogled her without shame. Myra didn’t seem to notice.

She was half asleep after one too many fruity alcohol-filled beverages.

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“Lei?” the girl asked, holding out a group of plastic colored necklaces.

The Texan couple shook their heads. They were no fun at all.

In fact, they were getting more drunk and surly with each hand. I wanted to leave the table. But Marc was still winning.

“We’ll take two please,” I said. They seemed festive, why not?

I slipped one on and motioned to Marc. He bowed his head and let me slide the other over his neck. Then, he resumed his play.

My stack of chips dwindled quickly while the one in my purse grew. Soon, the dealer was taking my last little plastic white and black chip and tucking it into his holder.

“I guess that’s it for me,” I said.

“One more hand?” he asked.

“Sure. Don’t stop on my account.”

Marc piled a very large stack of chips for his next bet. My mind and breath stalled as he continued to place one chip on top of another.

The dealer started to flip cards. There was a crisp thwack as he pulled each one out of the shuffling machine and placed it on the table—3, 5, 4. With every flip, the total grew nearer and nearer to 21. The Texan couple watched through alcohol-heavy eyes. They had both bowed out. My elbows rested on the soft leather curve of the table’s edge, tensing more with every turn of a card.

The dealer put his index finger on top of the next card and scratched it across the table. He held a dramatic pause and then flipped it over—Jack.

“I won,” Marc cried out.

My arms shot up in the air. Unfortunately, I forgot I was leaning precariously on the table. I began to fall. A strong hand curled around my bicep. It righted me into my seat before I could take a breath.

“Are you OK?” Marc asked, chuckling. He was amused either by my lack of coordination or my enthusiasm, or both. My mind emptied. All I could think about was the touch of his hand on my bare arm. I was not OK. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said. The tickle of his breath was on my lips. One small movement and our mouths would touch. My eyes 68

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felt heavy with anticipation. Even though I said I wouldn’t act on these feelings, I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to kiss me.

“You sure?” he asked, in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sure,” I mumbled eagerly, lips pursed.

Marc loosened his brace on my arm and turned to gather his chips. I took a ragged breath as I tried to hide the flush of my face beneath my palm.

“You’re my good luck charm,” Marc said, without turning.

He didn’t need my brand of luck. In fact, I began to think it would be better if we had less luck. People were starting to take notice of Marc and his winnings. It suddenly felt like we were in a fishbowl.

“She sure is,” the drunken Texan said, slurring his words.

“And she’s a perty one too. Those are some real nice…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Marc warned. His face grew dark again.

The large Texan man stumbled off his chair, ready for a challenge.

“What you gonna do boy?”

The Texan laughed. His large belly shook, not like a bowl full of jelly. It was more like a bowl full of rocks. This guy was hard all over. He was Santa’s abusive older brother. He looked sober enough to still throw a punch and make it count.

“Nothing as long as you keep your mouth shut,” Marc said, with cold, calm clarity.

“Do you know who you’re talkin’ to? I can call that little tramp…” The man didn’t have a chance to finish this sentence.

Before I blinked, he was on the ground.

An instant later, security was descending on us. From every direction, people began to move. Marc stood above the Texan, ready to strike again.

“Um, is this the ‘know when to run’ time?” I whispered, clutching my purse.

Marc grabbed my hand and we rushed toward the door.

“Come back here,” barked one of the casino’s beefy security guards. His puffed, red countenance made me think we should get out as fast as possible.

As we threaded between the gaming tables, the security guard was closing in. My stilettos, which seemed like a great idea earlier, were slowing us down.

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Another man raced toward us and yelled at us to stop. He was still far away. The crimson-faced one was close, though, too close. Reaching inside for my power, I felt the warm energy spread through my body. I willed the earth to create a small vibration at his feet, just enough to trip him up. A second later the man stumbled and crashed loudly into a roulette table.

I stopped and yanked off my shoes. Then, we broke into a sprint. The security guard let out a growl of frustration as he pushed himself up and restarted his chase. It was too late. He would not catch us now.

Being chased was becoming far too routine in my life. But this was different from the harrowing incident at the morgue. This was entertaining, exciting even. As we barreled hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, I felt as if I were real.

As soon as it was clear we weren’t followed, we slowed down. Dropping down on a bench, we alternated between short bursts of laughter and quick breaths until our pulses returned to normal.

“So what do we do with all those chips?” He turned to me and motioned to my purse.

“You knew?” I feigned annoyance.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

“Well, if we go back to cash out they’ll take us into a back room or something,” I said.

“We’ll just see about that. I’ll meet you in the hotel room,” he said. He stood up and reached for my purse.

“No, it’s dangerous,” I protested. He could get hurt. Vegas didn’t seem like a place of morality and forgiveness. Perhaps, I was taking this night too far. “Let me do it.”

“No way,” he objected. “You just said it’s dangerous. Why would I let you do that?”

“Trust me,” I argued. My body grew warm inside again as I pulled energy from the earth. The air around me swirled. Did he notice? Humans usually didn’t notice these subtle changes in nature.

Marc didn’t appear to be an average human.

The energy inside me reached a crescendo. I pushed my thoughts toward him and commanded: Stay on this bench until I get back. He stiffened unhappily, not understanding why he stopped protesting. “Don’t worry. They won’t even realize I’m there.”

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I sprinted off. He wouldn’t follow. He couldn’t. With just a thought, I’d made sure he would stay put on the bench. The suggestion spell came in handy. My family and I used it often. For some reason, this time I felt the sting of remorse.

I stood just outside the casino and peered through the window. All seemed normal again, as if we never caused any type of commotion. I could probably just walk in and out and no one would notice. To be safe, I decided to cloak myself. This required fire.

Although it was dark outside, heat pressed against my skin.

The sun was out there powering the earth, even if we couldn’t see it.

I just needed to grab some of its energy. The air around me crackled with pulses of white and blue light. Focusing the power of fire into my core, I twisted the light. It enveloped me and distorted the area around me. It made me appear invisible. I looked down at my feet to be sure. They weren’t there. There was only sidewalk.

Quickly and quietly I entered the Casino, hoping no one would notice the door opening and closing on its own. I waded through the people, trying not to touch anyone. When I got close to the cashier, I tucked myself into a corner and released the spell. The energy dispersed back into the atmosphere.

Casually, I walked over to the teller and pushed the winnings under the window.

“I have to call the manager,” said a woman with yellow hair and a blank expression.

“Why?” “He needs to approve a cash out this large,” she answered, flatly.

I tapped my foot impatiently and worried the manager might recognize me. I imagined a WANTED poster with my face on it in a dark back room. That was ridiculous, right? My palms started to sweat.

The manager came over. He was tall and serious looking, with black hair and a matching black suit. He looked down at the teller.

“ID,” he said, simply. He barely glanced at me.

I pushed it under the glass and considered using magic to move this process along. The longer I stood here, the more chance one of those security guards might notice me.

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The manager sniffed and handed back the ID. He walked away and the woman started counting out the cash. Her powder blue fingernails, which matched her eyeshadow, were a blur as she thwacked each bill down on the counter. Finally, she slid the cash under the window.

“Have a nice day,” she said, robotically.

“Hey, you, in the red dress, come here,” a voice demanded in the distance.

The woman looked at me. Worry flashed in her eyes. I grabbed the cash before she could take it back and ran.

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Chapter 7

Marc A strange brew boiled up inside me, a mix of anger with myself for letting her go alone and confusion as to why I agreed in the first place.

One look at her golden locks with auburn streaks whipping in the hot breeze and I forgot everything.

“Everything go OK?” I asked, as she approached.

“Yep, easy as pie,” she said.

“You know pie is actually pretty hard to make, especially the crust,” I said.

She looked at me strangely and I chided myself for saying something so stupid. She didn’t care about my thoughts on pie.

She fanned out the money in front of me.

“I’ve got an idea what to do with this,” I said to her. “I want it to be a surprise.”

She looked skeptical.

“I really don’t like surprises,” she said.

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“You’ll like this one.” I was sure of it.

We strolled back through the glowing glass doors of the Venetian.

“I’m going to talk to the Concierge,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the bar in a few minutes?”

“Fine,” she agreed, warily.

The Marc of yesterday would have put these winnings in a high yield savings bond and bought a few rare comic books. The Marc of today would rather spend every cent on her.

“What can I do for you?” asked the Concierge, as I approached. He was a small man with a friendly face. He had a wisp of hair running across an otherwise bald head. His nametag said Raul.

“Listen, Raul, I won some money and I want to do something special for…” I paused. I wasn’t sure what to call her. “…the woman I’m here with.”

“Well, we have many great packages. There is a Champagne and massage package,” he suggested.

“No, I want to do something more unusual,” I clarified.

The Concierge nodded in understanding.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

I liked this guy.

I handed over my wad of cash and Raul made a few phone calls. I waited at the desk until I was satisfied everything was ready.

“Thanks Raul,” I said when he handed me a nondescript brown paper bag, the final piece of the plan.

“My pleasure,” he responded. “Here are the items we discussed. This was an interesting request. Good luck.”

I took the bag and went to the bar to get Dagny. We hopped in the sleek black car Raul ordered. The seats were made of soft, dark leather and there was a window between us and the driver. I hoped Dagny was impressed.

“Thirsty?” I offered her one of the water bottles conveniently located in the cup holders.

“No thanks. You aren’t going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“What’s in the bag?” she said.

“Not telling,” I answered.

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“How about a hint about where we are going?” she coerced.

“Please.”

“OK,” I said, giving in. “We’re headed outside of the city.

That’s all I will tell you.”

“Fine,” she said, folding her arms to her chest and pouting.

So far tonight she had acted very mature. It was nice to see there was still a kid in there.

When we finally arrived at the surprise destination, the building looked run down. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. All around us was a dark horizon with an occasional highway overpass sprouting out of the ground.

Names of movies long out on DVD were misspelled in black letters above the box office. My favorite was Harry Otter. A very bored looking woman sat behind the counter. There was a piece of cracked glass separating her from the outside world.

“Wow, thanks for going all out,” Dagny remarked, with an uncomfortable laugh.

The place was dark and decaying. The glass entry doors were fogged with layers of dirt. Behind them paint peeled unsettlingly off the walls. I suddenly felt the urge to pull Dagny close.

I handed the woman the money and she gave us two tickets for Fright Night. We walked into the empty theatre. I had paid to make it stay empty. I had probably overpaid.

“OK, seriously. Did you bring me here to kill me?” Dagny said, with an edge in her voice.

“Well, if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. This isn’t one of those bad murder mystery movies.”

“No, it’s one of those bad horror movies,” she responded, playfully.

“Do bad horror movies have this?” I asked, opening the paper bag and slowly pulling out a box of expensive chocolates, a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. Her pouting lips turned to a grin.

“All of this for Fright Night?” she goaded.

“Oh, come on. It’s a classic,” I replied.

“Oh yeah, it rivals the Godfather,” she said, slyly giving a nod to my favorite movie. She did hear me on the plane.

“I’m sorry, is Fright Night not classy enough for you?” I offered, mocking offense.

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She sheepishly bit into a chocolate. A piece fell into her lap and she shooed it away with a giggle. “I’m sorry. This is really sweet. I don’t mean to complain.”

“Would Casablanca be better?” I asked, hopeful.

Her eyes brightened.

“Is that what we’re really going to watch?” she asked.

Just then, the room grew dark. The black and white numbers ticked backwards on the screen. Moments later, the opening credits rolled in black and white—Starring Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this on a big screen,” she whispered. “This is amazing.”

“Well, I like to do amazing from time to time. I can’t always just be awesome,” I said, jokingly.

She snorted in response and then fell silent. Her eyes focused on the movie as a dramatic narrator started to speak. She pressed her hands together in her lap with anticipation.

I had tried holding her hand on the plane. That didn’t work out. This time I would leave it up to her. I left my hand open on the armrest between us. She placed her palm gingerly on top. It stayed there, tensing and relaxing with the twists of the movie, until the fog engulfed the last of the actors and the final credits scrolled across the screen.

The lights came on. She sat up straight and looked at me, deeply, as if she were searching. Her hand pressed into mine.

“Look at that hand-on-hand action,” I jested, trying to release her from her intense focus on me.

“What?” she said, confused.

“It’s just a joke from The Simpsons,” I explained.

“The what?”

“The Simpsons. You know that little cartoon that’s been on the air for 20 years or so—‘eat my shorts’, ‘don’t have a cow, man’?” She didn’t know The Simpsons? Who was this girl? I couldn’t just ask her. I had to try something new.

“Oh, yeah, The Simpsons,” she said, as though she suddenly remembered the show. I didn’t believe her.

“Hey, let’s play truth or dare,” I offered.

“Oh, what’s that?” she asked.

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“It’s a game. I give you the option of truth or dare,” I explained. “Then I ask you a question and you have to answer truthfully or I dare you to do something and you have to do it.”

“Dare.” She bounced excitedly up and down in her seat.

“Alright, I dare you to tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.”

She stopped bouncing. Slowly, her face drew into a devilish expression. “Well, I’m a Capricorn. I like to take long walks on the beach. I love puppies. And, when I grow up, I want to discover how to harness the power of rainbows.” She said all of this in a cute, baby voice.

“I mean something real,” I reprimanded.

With a sigh, she slumped back in her seat and stared at the blank screen.

“You have to tell me something too,” she bargained.

“Fine, you first.”

“I write poetry,” she said, in a low voice.

“Tell me something you’ve written.”

“No, they’re all terrible.”

“Please?”

She bit her lip and looked away. It was clear this was something she’d never told anyone. In a voice that was barely above a whisper, she began.

“I am not a flower, easily trampled beneath a crowd.

I am not a devoted soldier standing stalwart and proud.

I am not a wild beast doing anything it must to survive.

I am not a honeybee droning mindlessly in a hive.

I am not Athena, with bravery coursing in my blood.

I am not river rock, easily withstanding a ravaging flood.

I am not a lion licking my lips at the sight of a lamb.

I know what I’m not but not what I am.”

“Wow. That was amazing,” I said.

“Yeah, right. You’re turn,” she responded, deflecting again.

“OK,” I agreed. This was our pact. “I can play the guitar.”

“Can you read too?” she derided. “There’s no way no one else knows that.”

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“It’s the truth,” I assured her. “My Dad used to play. My sister and I would sing along with him. It was one of our favorite activities. One day I decided to teach myself how to play. It was supposed to be a surprise for his birthday. I even wrote a song for him.” I paused. Talking about him was more difficult than I anticipated. “He left before I could show him. I never told anyone until now.”

Her fingers lightly touched my skin. She turned to me and looked at me closely.

Did she want me to kiss her?

Dagny We stood awkwardly in front of the hotel room door as I searched my purse. All these powers and I couldn’t find a damn key.

“Here, let me,” he said, suavely pulling his key out of his pocket. Right, I forgot I gave him one.

He slid the card in the lock and held the door for me. I entered, he did not follow. He stood just outside the doorway, still holding the door open. He ran his free hand through his thick, dark hair and then looped it into the plastic lei still around his neck. He looked nervous. Was he finally going to kiss me? He seemed like he wanted to at the movie theatre but then he didn’t.

Maybe he needed a sign that I wanted him to kiss me.

“So you liked getting lei’d?” I asked, as he twisted the adornment around his finger. I loved that he was still wearing it.

Most guys would have taken it off ages ago.

“Wow, that joke was just too easy,” he said, with a cool side smile.

He still hadn’t stepped into the room.

“Listen, I, uh, think I should get my own room,” he said. “I have enough money left over. I can just go down to the front desk.”

My heart sank. Clearly, we were not thinking the same thing.

“Oh,” I answered. I wanted to scream—No, stay here with me. Instead I said, “Sure, yeah, OK.” Where did I go wrong? Everything felt right with him. I’d even let my guard down and told him the poem.

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I searched my brain to figure out exactly what I said or did that made him realize I wasn’t normal. Honestly, it could have been so many things. Because of me he was chased by security guards.

Then, I manipulated him with my powers. Plus, I pretended to know things I didn’t have a clue about. I’d never heard of The Simpsons. I was a fake. He finally figured it out.

“Should I come get you when it’s time to go to the airport?” he asked, politely. He was a gentleman. Even if he didn’t want me, he still wanted to make sure I made it to Virginia safely.

“Sure.” My voice squeaked as it tried to overcompensate for my disappointment.

“Well, have a good night,” he said as the door closed.

I slammed down my purse on the entry table and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyelids looked as heavy as my body suddenly felt. Maybe sleep would help. I snuggled into the bed.

The thick down comforter and soft white sheets should have lulled me into a dreamy escape. They didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about Marc. The last few hours were the best of my life. Sure, I didn’t remember specific details of all my past lives. But I remembered in other bodies I always felt fractured and broken.

Around Marc, for a brief time, I felt like a complete person, a normal girl.

Now that he was gone, the feeling was gone too. Why did I let myself care about him? It was stupid. This was exactly what my family worried about. They said I was impulsive. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I just did what felt right in the moment.

I shot out of bed and packed my bag. I didn’t know what I was thinking, staying here with him.

It was time to go.

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Chapter 8

Marc Knock. Knock.

No answer.

I knocked louder. There was still no answer. I whispered her name. The cleaning lady shut off the vacuum and stared at me.

I made a horrible mistake. All night I had embraced the part of me that wanted to act impulsively—all night until the very last moment. It was her room or mine. Her room, which would have led to kissing and maybe something more, or mine, which led to this.

I ran to the lobby.

“Excuse me. Has the girl in room seventeen02 left a message for me, Marc?” I asked the tired looking man behind the front desk.

After a moment with his computer, the receptionist handed me a bag from under the counter. He held it away from himself as if it were filled with garbage. Inside were my carry-on and the clothes I’d been wearing before I changed into the suit.

“Has she checked out?”

In response, he typed a few keystrokes as though it were a horrible inconvenience.

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“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he answered.

I could still catch her. I ran toward the taxi stand. The lei swung back and forth around my neck.

Dagny “One ticket to Reno please,” I said, handing the man at the bus station counter a credit card.

He punched a few numbers on the computer and swiped my card.

“Leaves in 15 minutes,” he said, in a monotone voice. “Gate 3.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the ticket.

I sat down on a dirty bench and hugged my purse to my chest.

I was such a coward. Take a bus to another city just to get on a different plane? It’s come to this? You’re so afraid of your feelings that you run from them? Do you ever stop running, Dagny?

A man with a thin beard stumbled toward me. His shirt was ripped and his pants were too big. He smelled so complete, so human. Even in his dirty clothes, I envied him.

He caught my gaze. I quickly looked at the floor and noticed a small shining object. I reached down. It was a ring.

I turned it over in my hand. The ring was a snake that wrapped around the finger. At the top, its mouth was swallowing a disc with a small engraving of a sun under a crescent moon. The end of its tail touched the other side of the disc to complete the circle. I liked it. I brushed it off and put it on my finger.

“Hey,” whispered the man with the beard. “Nice find.”

He pointed to my ring.

“Thanks,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want to be rude.

“Where you headed?” he asked. He twitched and looked around as though he was being watched.

“Reno,” I answered out of politeness only.

“No, no, that’s not right,” he mumbled. “You’re not going the right way.”

His words cut into me. Had I made a mistake leaving Marc behind?

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“Wrong way, wrong way,” he said, over and over as he walked away. “Go back or you’ll miss it.”

This was silly. He was just a random human spouting nonsense. He didn’t know me. Leaving was the right choice. I couldn’t face a morning filled with Marc or his rejection. Why did he bother with all the theatrics only to reject me? He must have felt badly for me because of my mother. As of today, I would never think about him again.

“Bus 723, Gate 3,” a woman’s voice said over the loudspeaker.

That was me.

Mr. Smith There was really no need for the handcuffs. The brute preferred lounging on the bed to escaping.

I picked up a knife.

August snorted like a swine at the television. It was disgusting. He was dirty and uncivilized. I could not wait to be rid of him.

I turned the knife in my hand and touched the tip of the blade. It was sharp, just not sharp enough.

Unfortunately, for the time being, I needed August. He had touched the girl with the power of the Goddess. This was a rare find.

I tracked the signs of Travelers to this location in Los Angeles. I plotted freak storms, tornado activity and multiple lightning strikes.

It took great power to move a soul to another body, particularly to one that is dead. Nature reacted to the use of great power by displaying its own. If you knew what to look for, you could find a Traveler.

I took out a stone and ran the blade along the edge, several times. I pressed my finger to the tip and winced. Now it was sharp.

I tracked Travelers by watching these unusual occurrences in nature, hoping to find her. I’d gotten close in the past but never this close. I had never before found a person who had come in physical contact with her, other than me. She and I were born on the same day, in the same hospital. Our mothers shared a room. For a brief moment our hands touched when our mothers allowed their newborns to meet. However, my magical connection to her was 85

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decades old. August’s contact was recent. His blood should be a more powerful means to finding her.

I examined the carving on one side of the knife’s handle, proudly. The symbol was of two crescents connecting to make the shape of a curved X. It was a symbol of the Goddess. On the other side were the symbols for earth, water, fire and air. I carved them all myself.

I was chosen for this mission by the Viator, the Ancient one.

He saw a vision of the Goddess’ power reborn. By the time he tracked the vision to the hospital, she was gone. He could find no name or magical sign of her. He found me instead, the baby who had touched her. He took me and taught me about magic, specifically blood magic and its power.

I ran a hand across the long-healed scars on my arms. I’d bled for her. Now, it was August’s turn.

August stiffened as I approached. Several fresh pink cuts already streaked down his arms.

“Not now man, this show’s just gettin’ good.”

I grabbed his arm and held a wooden bowl beneath it.

“Which hand touched her?” I said.

“Uh, my right I think.” His voice wobbled with fear.

Fear was an important part of life. My mother was afraid at first. However, the Viator told her I was truly special. It was destiny that a Dionician baby boy was born at the same time and place as the baby with the power of the Goddess. Then, he touched her shoulder and she felt his power. She handed me to him without objection. I have been with the Viator ever since.

I drew the blade across the top of August’s right hand.

He hissed with pain and tried to pull it back. I clutched it hard and held it in place. Blood dripped into the bowl. The blade glowed with power. This was my invention. I created the perfect tool for blood magic. Carving Wiccan symbols into a knife or blade merged the magical elements together with the most powerful of them all—blood. It was extremely effective. More effective than any other Wiccan tools or spells I ever used. The Viator said I was the first to develop something so clever.

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After enough blood accumulated in the bowl, I let go of August and threw him a towel. He pressed it on his skin and clutched his hand to his chest. A whimper escaped his lips.

I enjoyed his pain. I enjoyed all pain. I would enjoy her pain when I found her.

I swirled the blood around in the cup. This blood should point me to her location. To date, it did not. August Avery, former night watchman for Bakersfield County morgue, was not just pathetic, he was a disappointment.

I took an oak leaf and dipped it in the bowl. I dripped the blood on parchment paper.

“Aperio, aperio, aperio,” I whispered.

Three large cracks of thunder exploded outside one right after the next—bang, bang, bang. Nature responded to power with power. I likely caused a lightning strike that killed one animal or more. Harnessing so much power required sacrifice. It was a necessary part of this magic.

The blood on the paper drifted in different directions. It curved and curled, forming into shapes. They were letters. It was a name—Dagny.

Now, I was getting somewhere. I needed more blood.

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Chapter 9

Marc I walked through the door of my house. The air was thick with responsibility. My mother and stepfather sat perched on the edge of the couch.

“Marc, we were worried about your flight being delayed,” Mom said, accenting her words with her typical dramatic gestures.

“Was it terribly bad?”

“Oh, everything looks bad if you remember it,” I said, jokingly, knowing she would not get my Simpsons reference.

On cue, she gave me a confused look and then shook her head as if to say ‘teenagers’. Then she spotted my neck.

“Oh my God. What happened?”

She jumped up and touched the scar gingerly. It was light pink at this point, not worth fretting over. But she liked to fret.

“It’s nothing, just a little bike accident.” I looked at Jillian for support.

She looked away. Judas.

“We should have a doctor check it out.”

“Mom, a doctor already checked it out. I’m fine, really.”

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“Well, you should stay home tomorrow just to be sure,” she said, tossing herself back on the couch. Benjamin did not move.

“You’re probably jet lagged. Plus, it’s your birthday tomorrow. I’m so glad your grandmother is fine. What a relief. Now, you should rest.”

She was frantic and more dramatic than usual.

Reaching down, I laid my hand on her forehead.

“You sure you’re better?” I half jested.

“Oh, stop,” she chided, playfully, wiping my hand away.

“Really, you must be exhausted. Go get some rest.”

I glanced at Jillian. She finally acknowledged me.

“What’s up Hawaii 5-0? You look like crap,” she said, with a nod toward my lei.

“Jillian,” my mother barked. “Why don’t you offer your brother a drink? Or a sandwich?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Jillian said. She stayed firmly draped over the chair like an old black, holey blanket.

“Nice to see those classes in manners paid off,” I said. This comment was a nod to Mom’s wish to have a beautiful, perfect debutante daughter. She used to force Jillian to go to classes where she learned how to dress, do her hair, put on makeup and set the table. Jillian hated every minute of it. My mother probably still cried at night over the fact that my sister looked like her coming out party would be in hell, rather than the Hilton.

My room was exactly as I left it. My comic books were neatly stacked on a bookshelf in the corner. My laptop was on my desk next to a pile of textbooks. Nothing was touched while I was gone. This was the only place in the house I felt comfortable.

I took the lei off my neck and held it out as I flopped down on my bed. I closed my eyes and my thoughts wandered to Dagny. I thought she’d fade like a sunset. I was wrong. She was like a great album. The kind you obsess over. She was the album all other albums would be compared to and they would not measure up. Her melody would linger in my ears forever.

My eyes felt heavy. The last thing I remembered was the lei slipping out of my hands.

I woke with a start. Remnants of a dream hung in the air.

Horrible contorted wraith-like faces reached out for me. They were trying to warn me. It was like nothing I’d ever dreamed before.

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The red numbers on my alarm clock said 3:23 in the morning. Oddly, this was the exact time I was born.

Trying to shake off the dream, I sat up. I thought, I wish there was some light in here.

The lamp next to my bed flickered.

That was weird. I had to still be dreaming. Maybe if I shut my eyes, I would wake up for real this time.

I lay back on the bed.

No, this was stupid. I was awake. It was just a coincidence. I thought it again to make sure: I wish there was some light in here.

Suddenly, every light snapped to attention. Blinded by the sudden return of so much light, I flung my legs on the floor and wished the brightness was gone. Blackness returned.

I tried it again: Lights on.

Brightness flooded the room.

Jesus, I was like the telekinetic Clapper. Lights off.

It was dark again.

Was this a joke? Maybe I was talking out loud and someone was messing with me. This could just be a coincidence. Maybe my mind was somehow in tune with some sort of power surge.

Lights on.

Light again exploded, illuminating every inch of the room.

My pulse raced.

I’m going to lose it now.

A screeching sound filled the room. I clapped my hands over my ears. Then, the light became so bright I could see it through my eyelids. My head started to spin.

Dagny High schools are all different on the outside. But inside they are the same. That much I remembered. No matter the town, there are sports, cliques and a cafeteria serving pizza. Thank God for the pizza. It was one of my four food groups, along with anything in a vending machine, candy and chocolate. Yes, there was a difference between those last two.

“Dagny, get your nose out of that book and tell me one more time,” Ava said. She brushed the front of her dress to flatten any nonexistent creases.

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“My nose goes where it wants. Right now, it wants Dominos,” I mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Ava said, sharply.

Ava sat tall and composed in the front seat. Her posture was always stick-straight. Ava would never dream of slouching. In fact, everything about her was flawless.

“It’s the name of a pizza chain. It’s also a game where one little rectangular piece knocks down the other or, even better, roll me over, Romeo. There you go. Lord, have merc,.” I sang the last part as random information flooded my brain. It made me feel like a crazy person when this happened. It was one of the many reasons I decided I would keep my mouth shut at school as much as possible.

“Dagny,” she scolded.

“Jeez, fine. I’m Dagny. This is Ava and Jason. No, your eyes are working fine. They’re twins. Anyway, my Dad buys stores that are tanking; fixes them up and sells them off. We’re like total nomads,” I said, in a bored obnoxious voice.

Ava’s eyes narrowed angrily. I cleared my throat and sat up, trying to mimic Ava’s posture and voice.

“Hello there, I am Dagny Bennet. It is so wonderful to meet you. This is my lovely sister, Ava, and my dashing brother, Jason.

My father purchases stores and rejuvenates them. Then, he places them on the market. Therefore, we tend to relocate often. Please be my friend.”

“Much better,” Ava said.

“So glad I could please you,” I said, slumping back in my seat.

“Now, remember, the bedroom furniture will finally be delivered tomorrow,” Ava said, after a moment of silence.

Typically, Ava never allowed the family to arrive at a new location before the house was perfectly decorated with all new furniture. My father would not tolerate her antics this time. The priority was ensuring the house was protected. When completed, she could focus on beautification. This meant Ava had to temporarily settle for the hand-me-down furniture left in the house we purchased. Not surprisingly, Ava did not like to settle.

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tucked herself under the brand new comforter and lay there as if she was lying in a pile of garbage.

“We’re here,” Jason said.

The car came to an abrupt halt. We all fell silent. Looming before us was a boring two story brick building.

“Dagny,” Jason said, gravely. He always sounded grave. I wondered if he ever had a sense of humor. “You need to make us a promise.”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t like where this was going.

“You need to be careful. Try not to use your powers around the humans. And, this is very important, if you suspect someone might be a witch, you have to tell us, immediately,” Jason said.

“Why?” I asked.

Ava sighed, impatiently.

“Dagny,” she said, talking to me as though I was a child.

“Other witches don’t like us. Even if they’re not Aradnians, they don’t want us around. They might try to hurt us. We need to know if you come across one.”

“How would I know someone is a witch? It’s not like we walk around wearing nametags that say, ‘Hi, I’m a Wiccan’.”

“It’s not easy to tell,” Ava said. “If there are witches at this school, they will likely want to stay hidden, too. The witch trials might seem like ancient news to humans but not to us. You are a witch, however. You will see something a human wouldn’t notice.

Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” I said.

“Do you promise?” Jason said.

“Yes, I promise, jeez.”

“Good,” Ava said.

“Now, I need you to promise me something,” I said.

Ava and Jason exchanged one of their silent looks. They did that a lot. It was a thing between them. A thing I did not share.

“So Dagny, what can we promise you?” Ava asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing crazy, just that you will try to act normal.”

We would never be truly normal. We could at least try to act normal, though.

“We always act normal,” Ava said. She opened the mirror on the visor and tamed a miniscule flyaway hair with a wave of her hand.

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“Oh, my mistake, you two are completely normal. Jason’s like some sort of strange robot.” I instantly regretted the comment. It was cruel. But how do you say to your potential new friends—sorry my 18-year-old brother’s so weird; it’s just because he fought in two world wars and went to Vietnam. “And you’re like a hawk in a Donna Reed suit.”

Ava never changed. If change occurred, it was by force. That was probably why she still wore clothing from the 1950s. She would even welcome a return to big billowy hoop skirts and restrictive corsets.

“You remember Donna Reed?” Ava asked.

“Yes. Black and white, big skirts, fake perfection. That’s not the point. Please, I need the two of you to be normal,” I said, begging.

My outburst was met by crickets. Literally, I heard them squeaking outside.

Jason grunted and stepped out of the car. He spread his shoulders and turned his head from side to side, surveying his surroundings. He wore a short-sleeved red polo shirt and dark jeans.

This outfit was his version of a uniform. Ava insisted on the polo shirts because they at least had a collar. However, she also wanted Jason to wear more formal dress pants. Shockingly, Jason chose jeans. Apparently, they were more durable or something. It wasn’t often he didn’t do exactly what Ava wanted. Why we let Ava dictate every aspect of our lives was beyond me.

Ava quietly exited the car and looked back at me. Her eyes narrowed. Uh oh.

“That is not what I left out for you to wear,” she stated, crisply.

“I didn’t see what you left for me.” I lied. I did, it was awful and pink. No, thank you.

“Knee-high boots with shorts, a ratty old t-shirt, a blazer and that scarf. Do you ever wash that thing? You look like you just grabbed the first thing you saw.”

I did.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

I suddenly desperately missed my mother. She liked that I wore unusual clothes or that I sometimes forgot to brush my hair.

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She liked that I left candy wrappers all over the house. She said I was quirky.

Ava shook her head in disgust.

“And where did you get that thing?” She pointed to my hand.

She was referring to the snake shaped ring I found at the bus station. I wore it on my thumb.

“I found it on the ground,” I said, sheepishly.

“What is this world coming to?” Ava said, exasperated.

She spun around, unable to look at me anymore, and followed Jason toward the school. She held her head high and puffed her chest. Her beady eyes looked down on the people around her.

Each student was being evaluated and categorized.

I stayed back and let my siblings walk ahead of me. I watched as heads turned, voices whispered and fingers pointed at the new kids. I preferred the attention on them and not me.

My first morning at school was blissfully uneventful. No one noticed me, which was the way I liked it. At least until lunch.

When I entered the cafeteria, Ava beckoned me to her. She was standing in front of a small group of people at the end of a long table. Reluctantly, I shoved a large piece of chocolate chip cookie in my mouth and obeyed.

“Dagny, meet Lily,” she said, turning to reveal a striking girl with spiraling charcoal hair that spilled down past her shoulders.

Lily had dark brown eyes trimmed with black make-up that made me think of Cleopatra. Her complexion was flawless and glowed with autumn hues.

“And Brooke?” My sister posed it as a question. She knew the girl’s name. She was establishing dominance, showing Brooke she wasn’t worth having her name remembered. My sister loved to play mind games.

“Yeah, I’m Brooke.” Brooke waved. Her gentle face was framed by straight honey-colored hair that was nearly the same hue as her complexion. She was all one color, except for her eyes. They stuck out like blue lightning bolts.

“Hwhi,” I said as crumbs fell out of my mouth.

“Lily and Brooke are cheerleaders. Lily is the Captain,” Ava said. She stressed the last word, hoping I would suddenly snap to attention and perform. I did not.

Ava shot me a look of disapproval.

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“Like I said before,” Ava said, continuing a conversation she had started before I arrived. “Dagny was a cheerleader at our last school. She has a divine round-off back handspring.”

“Well, we already had try outs. But one of the girls just broke her foot this morning. She’ll be out for the season. We need some new meat,” Lily noted, enthusiastically. That was convenient. I had no doubt Ava somehow caused the injury.

“I like your eclectic boho chic look,” Brooke said, just as she and Ava were swept up in a current of bubbly girls.

“Well, at least someone likes what I wear,” I noted, sticking out my tongue at my sister. “Have you seen a soda machine?”

“No more sugar for you. No one likes plump cheerleaders,” Ava stated. “And could you use a napkin? Really, Dagny, people will think you were raised by a pack of wolves.”

“That would be an improvement,” I mumbled.

“Oh, here’s Jason,” Ava said.

A moment later, Jason marched into the cafeteria. Half the girls swooned and even a few of the boys. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Coach asked me to join practice today. He made me quarterback.” This was stated like a school report given by a 5 th grader or a Neanderthal.

“Good,” Ava said.

“Doesn’t this school already have a quarterback?” I asked, scowling.

Jason shrugged.

“Don’t fret little sister. The team went 0 and 10 last year with that quarterback. Jason will do much better. You should be happy.

What’s more normal than a football player?” Ava said.

I glowered at her. “You did this?”

“Of course,” Ava said, proudly. “I simply implanted a few thoughts in Lily’s mind and the football coach. I also changed the air pressure in that little cheerleader’s ear so she lost her balance and tripped on the stairs. Anyway, now Jason’s a football hero and you’re a perky cheerleader.”

“Thanks, scary godmother.”

“It’s fairy godmother,” Ava said.

I rolled my eyes with exasperation.

“You couldn’t wait one day before you started manipulating everyone around you?”

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“Dagny, don’t try to pretend you don’t do it too. It’s our right. We’re not hurting them,” Ava responded, nonchalantly.

“Breaking someone’s foot isn’t hurting them?” I protested.

“She’ll be fine. Now Jason can keep an eye on you. You have practice at the same time.”

“If you want to keep an eye on me, you should become a cheerleader,” I said, angrily.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those short skirts,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “Although, you did just give me an idea.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t like it,” I said.

Jason Our new house was small and with an open floor plan. That was good. I could see all the common rooms from one point. The house was also quiet. I liked that, too.

I preferred to be at home. I did not like noise or crowds.

There were too many things to watch outside, too many hidden dangers.

I turned the page of the football playbook. I played football in high school in the 70s and in college in the 80s. I was familiar with the sport. I just had to be careful with the humans. They broke easily.

Come to my room, now. Ava said, bursting into my head.

I stood and walked upstairs to her room. I did not bother knocking.

Ava was on the floor with tarot cards arranged in front of her.

“Why are you up to 13 cards? How far into the future are you trying to see?” I asked. “I assume this is for Dagny?”

“Yes and not far enough, apparently,” she answered.

“Whether I use 5, 7 or 13 cards, it always ends with the same two— the Devil card and the Tower card.”

“So, conflict and disruption of life. That’s not good,” I observed, squatting down more closely to inspect the flow of the cards.

“No, it’s even worse,” Ava said. “These two cards together mean someone will trick and deceive Dagny to control her. Look here.”

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She pointed to the middle part of the reading.

“The Moon card—it comes before the Devil card. It looks like she won’t be able to distinguish between what is real and not real. Also, the Hanged Man and the Emperor together mean aggression and sacrifice.”

She looked at me. Ava kept her emotions tightly bundled.

However, just as she could sense my anger, I could sense her fear. It felt like claws digging into my chest.

“Did you get any visions with the cards?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice cracked. “These last two cards, when I put them down, I see Dagny covered in blood.”

My chest tightened. Ava was the only one of us who could see fragments of the future with her tarot readings and what she saw almost always came true.

This was what we constantly feared—Dagny being hurt or killed. From the day she was born, our lives were devoted to keeping her safe. Before she was old enough to learn how to Travel, we physically moved to hide her. It wasn’t until she was 8 when she Traveled for the first time. We couldn’t avoid it any longer. The spirits told my mother if we didn’t Travel, Dagny would die.

The first time Dagny Traveled, we picked a dead family with a 3-year-old. I was relieved to have Dagny be a little girl again. She was growing up much too fast. Eventually, however, we had to let her age.

“Is she in this body in the vision? The one she has now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It’s quick flashes, as always. I saw a bloodied hand and maybe a stomach. It’s blurry and I can’t really see color.

But it’s Dagny. I can sense it.”

“How do we stop it?”

“I don’t know. I wish Mom were here. She’d have a plan.”

The shake in Ava’s voice hinted at her pain. For a brief moment, I was reminded that Ava was not just a witch. She was also a daughter who missed her mother.

My muscles stiffened in response. I had tried several spells to find the witches who killed our mother. Nothing worked. The problem was I had no anchor for the spells. I needed an object or talisman linked to the perpetrators. Without that, I was just searching blindly. It was a “Catch 22,” as they say in this century. If I had a 98

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talisman, I would already know who they were. Without it, I couldn’t find out.

My father could have better luck. Location and tracking spells were based in the earth element. He would not approve, however. His felt defense was the best strategy. There were also vision spells, Ava’s specialty. I tried those also, unsuccessfully.

Unfortunately, I could not involve Ava, yet. Her focus needed to stay on Dagny.

Eventually, I would find these killers. And when I did, I would channel my element, fire, and tear them apart.

Jason, relax. We will figure this out. Ava said to me, silently.

“I’m fine,” I said. I refocused on Dagny. “Should we Travel again? I can start looking through the news. I should have been doing that all along. I didn’t think of it. We didn’t do that until Mom warned us.”

This was all new territory. Since we first started Traveling, we relied on our mother’s connection to the spirit realm. It would alert her when it was time to move on. As soon as the nightmares began, we’d scan the newspaper obituaries for recently deceased people. Later, in this century, we used the Internet.

When we found the best possible option, we’d gather the ingredients for the spell—a broken twig to separate from the body, a raven’s feather for carrying the soul and a piece of granite to bring us back to earth. We’d make the preparations for house purchases and other materials. There wasn’t much time. We needed fresh bodies. The more recently deceased, the easier the body was to revive. Then, we’d say the incantation. Our souls would leave our bodies and Travel on to our next location.

Without Mom, the plan we’d been following for hundreds of years was unraveling.

“I think we should be ready to Travel at any moment but I don’t want to yet,” Ava said. “We are so vulnerable when we Travel and what if Traveling sets this all in motion? I can’t tell, yet. We need to talk to Dad. I need to do more readings. We also need to watch Dagny even closer, especially at school, until we figure something out.”

“I don’t know how we get any closer. We both have two classes with her. I am on the football team and you made yourself the manager of her cheerleading squad.”

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“We have to figure out a way,” Ava whispered.

Marc I woke up in a cold sweat. The clock read 10:00 o’clock.

Lights on.

The room was dark except for thin strips of morning light peeking through my window blinds. I tried one more time just to be sure.

Lights on.

Nothing.

Phew.

I stood up and opened the blinds. Natural light, not created by me, flooded the room. Relief flooded my body.

“Let me talk to him alone,” Jillian’s muffled voice snapped.

Jillian came in my room without knocking and quickly closed the door behind her. She was still wearing her signature pajamas—an oversized black t-shirt and leggings. Her face was pale from the make-up she never removed.

“So,” she said and then paused. “Um, well, last night, did you wake up at the time you were born and have something really weird happen to you?”

She said the words quickly and flatly, like an auctioneer. I stared at her in shock.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

I stayed silent. I didn’t know what to say.

She sat down next to me on the bed and pulled a book out from under her shirt. She had it tucked in the waistband of her pants.

It was about two inches thick with a cream cover. There was a black symbol on the front of two concave semi-circles, like crescent moons, facing inward.

“Listen, Marc, we’re not like everyone else. Our family has abilities,” she said as though this entire conversation was beneath her and completely boring. “We can manipulate things.”

“How?” I managed to ask. Under any other circumstance, I would laugh her out of my room. But last night’s events were still fresh.

“By using this book. It’s called the Libri Dea.” 100

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She handed me the book. I rolled my thumb across the pages.

This was crazy. This wasn’t really happening.

“What happened to you last night was called your Awakening. It happens when you turn seventeen. It’s something about the number seventeen. It’s a prime number. They are special or something. You’ll see them show up in the book a lot. Sometimes you have to say things 5, 11 or even seventeen times, stuff like that.”

“You’ve lost me. I say something seventeen times and what happens?” I asked, bewildered.

“It depends on the spell,” she answered, impatiently.

“Spell? Like a witch?”

That was when the laughter erupted. It shook through my body. My mind immediately jumped to anything I knew about witches: Scarlet Witch, Morgan LeFay, Willow, Macbeth, Cardcaptor Sakura, The Wizard of Oz. Even though the list was endless, there was a theme.

Everything was fiction. Witches weren’t real.

“Is this a birthday joke? The ability to add two digit numbers is not witchcraft.” Thanks to Lisa Simpson for that one, it was perfect for this situation.

She stared at me. Her face was dead serious. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny.

“Listen, you can analyze this endlessly if you want. I know that’s your thing. But you can’t plan or organize your way out of this. This is your life now. Deal with it,” she said, bluntly. “When this happened to me, Mom and Benjamin threw this book at me and said ‘welcome to the real family.’ If I wanted answers, I had to go to this.” She pointed at the book. “It sucked.”

“You’re serious,” I said, shocked.

She believed this garbage, like people who believed the world was flat. I just couldn’t. I didn’t have an explanation. That didn’t mean one didn’t exist.

Jillian stood abruptly and closed her eyes.

“Jillian,” I said, trying to reason with her.

“Shut up,” she said.

She whispered a word over and over. It sounded like “evanui.”

The room slowly grew black. I could feel the bedspread under my hand but I couldn’t see it. I could only see Jillian. It was as 101

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if we were in a dark theatre and the spotlight was just on her. Slowly, the room faded back in.

This couldn’t be real. Still, I was seeing it with my own eyes.

“Did it work?” Jillian asked. Her hands were trembling.

“Did you mean to black out the room?”

“Yeah, except for me. Did it work?” she asked again, growing impatient.

“Well, I just told you the exact thing you meant to do, so yeah.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Do you believe me now?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered.

She released a frustrated sigh.

“Fine,” Jillian said. “Tell me what happened to you last night. Something weird, right?”

“Well, yeah, I woke up and I thought about turning on the lights and they turned on. I wanted them to turn off and they did.

Then, the screeching started. The next thing I knew it was morning.”

“That’s not enough to convince you?” Jillian said.

“I’m not ready to believe I’m some sort of witch just because one weird thing happened to me,” I answered.

“Haven’t you felt it for months, as if your life wasn’t quite right anymore and something was coming, you just don’t know what?”

I did. For months I felt different. I had that void inside me.

The only thing that filled it was danger and, well, Dagny.

“Yeah, I guess,” I admitted.

A sudden rapping at the door interrupted our discussion.

“So, how are you doing, champ?” Benjamin called through the cracked door.

“You guys, I said I wanted to talk to him alone,” Jillian said.

“You never listen to me.”

Benjamin pushed the door open wide and stepped into the room, ignoring Jillian’s comment. My mother was behind him.

“Did your sister explain everything?” Benjamin asked.

“Everything? No, I have questions,” I stated. I pushed myself up off the bed. This crazy story needed corroboration.

“That’s what the book is for,” Benjamin responded.

My sister leaned against the wall, crossed her arms and shot me the ‘see what I mean’ look.

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“When you’ve read the book, we can talk more. You need to start there,” Benjamin added, sensing Jillian’s unstated criticism.

“That said, there are some important things you should know right away.”

Benjamin looked visibly uncomfortable in my room. He was a little, thin man whose skin and clothes seemed to hang off of him like they were both meant for someone larger.

He motioned to my mother. She stepped forward and handed me a metal toolbox.

It was heavy. I placed it on my desk and opened it. Inside, there were small, clear plastic bags of powders and crushed herbs. I picked up one filled with gray shards and turned it over in my palm.

It had a white label with printed black letters.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I said, dangling the bag in front of my family. “Crushed pheasant skull?”

“You will need these things,” Benjamin said, stiffly. “Now, when you read the book you’ll understand what these are for. This is also not everything. It is just to get you started.”

“So it’s some sort of Playskool’s my-first-spell tool kit?” I said. I dropped the bag back into the box and closed the lid.

“This is not something to joke about,” Benjamin snapped, his bright amber eyes narrowed, focusing in on me. “Now, there are a few other things we need to talk about. First, there are many other types of witches in the world. Our type, or tribe, which is what we call all the different Wiccan sects, is called the Aradnians. It’s not as strange as it sounds, honestly. We’re just like any other religion.

Christians have many different denominations, so does Wicca.

Aradnians also, like other religions, have a book to guide us and there are places, similar to Christian churches, where we gather to talk and learn about our beliefs. You can participate as much or as little as you want in the Aradnian church. It’s up to you.”

“Just so you know I’m going the little route,” Jillian noted.

“Now, Elaine and I don’t attend church meetings often.

Regardless, when a new male Aradnian has his Awakening, he is contacted by a leader in the local tribe.”

“I wasn’t contacted,” Jillian interjected.

“It’s only the males,” Benjamin responded.

“Great, so we’re sexist witches,” I said.

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“It’s a formality, sort of a welcome,” Benjamin continued, ignoring my comment. “It may be a letter or a phone call. I just didn’t want you to be surprised. So, now that those items are out of the way, I want to talk about the most important part,” he said. “This is critical to understand for our survival.”

I sat down in my desk chair and leaned back. I still didn’t fully believe all of this.

“As I said,” Benjamin continued. “There are many other tribes of witches. However, there is one particular type that is lethal to our kind. They have many different names, body riders, skin stealers, imposters. We call them Possessors because they can move from body to body to live forever. When they move to a new body, the person inside is killed. This makes them very dangerous. I can’t stress that enough. These witches are our enemies and we have vowed to destroy them.”

First, I found out I was a witch. Minutes later I was conscripted into an army and told I have an archenemy. This was getting ridiculous.

“I haven’t vowed to do anything,” I responded, fiercely.

“Marc, did you have the dream last night? The one with the ghosts,” Mom said, suddenly peeking out from behind her husband.

“Yeah, I had a dream with some ghost-like creatures in it.

So?” “It wasn’t just a dream. It was a vision of Aradnians who were killed by Travelers. They’re trying to warn you.”

“Let me make sure I have this right. You want to kill people just because some dream and an old book say so?” I said. “That’s nuts.”

“Marc,” Mom said. “I’m sorry to dump all of this on you.

But you need to take this seriously. We think there are Possessors here. We have to prepare ourselves.”

“Here? Where?” I still thought someone was going to jump out with a camera and say this was all a joke.

“I can’t get a good read,” she answered. Her face drooped noticeably. She must have been trying very hard. “They could be a mile away or 30 miles. They’re close enough that you should stay home for the next couple of days and study the book. Even though you have a great memory, you still need to practice. You need to be ready in case they attack.”

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“Attack? Why?” I said.

She pinched her lips together. It made her face look old, which was unusual. She went to great lengths to defy the aging process.

“We killed one of them,” she admitted. “We sent you away because you weren’t supposed to know about magic yet. It’s a strict rule in our tribe. Children cannot know about magic until their Awakening. You also had no powers to protect yourself and we weren’t sure what might happen. It’s been a long time since we were able to kill one. One of our ancestors managed it.”

“You killed a person.” I was disgusted.

“A Possessor, it’s not the same thing,” Benjamin said, defensively.

It suddenly struck me. My mother had been living a double life. She was a better actress than I realized.

“How many are there?” I asked between gritted teeth.

“Not as many as us,” Benjamin answered. “Their numbers are probably in the thousands. They don’t all move from body to body. The ones who don’t aren’t a concern. But Possessors can take us over and gain our power. Being part of our tribe means you are obligated to protect our kind by destroying theirs.”

I didn’t like Benjamin taking a lead role in this conversation.

He didn’t speak often. Now he was coming forward, as though he was really part of this family. It made me uneasy.

“No,” I said, tersely. “How many are here, now, and hunting us?”

“It’s hard to tell,” my mother said. “My bloodline has been warring with this one family for many years. I think there are three or four of them.”

“Why is our family ‘warring’ with them?”

“I don’t know why they target us, specifically. I do know they want our bodies so they can have our power. They want to kill us, Marc.”

“Probably because we killed them first, at least twice it sounds like,” I noted.

This was all crazy. I was a witch. I was part of some ancient blood feud. Happy Birthday, here’s your leather jacket. Let’s rumble.

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“That’s enough.” Benjamin interjected. “Marc, you know very little about this. You need to read the book to understand. Learn the history and the spells to protect us and practice.”

“Let’s leave him alone now.” My mother placed her hand on Benjamin’s arm and motioned to Jillian.

When they were gone it was just me and the book, which was lying on the bed.

This was a critical moment. Picking up this book meant I was willing to believe. I didn’t want to. Instead I wanted to have the tap water tested for hallucinogens.

I picked up the book.

Inside, it had small black text, long paragraphs and very thin margins, not exactly light reading. There were three types of passages: definitions, instructions and narratives, which were basically short stories about witch history. All the writing seemed very matter-of-fact, like a textbook. It would tell me how and what.

It was not going to tell me why. I didn’t like that at all.

The book was meticulously organized by a ten plus page index. That much I appreciated.

I scanned the index, looking for the Possessors. My plan was to eventually dissect this book fully. Before I could do that, I needed to read about these beings I was supposed to destroy.

I earmarked topics for future reading: Amulets and protection symbols—Awakening, Binding powers, Occolta Atheneum. There it was, finally, on page seven of the index— Possessors. The subcategories took up almost a full page, more than any other subject. Talk about “know thy enemy.”

I started with the definition.

Possessors. Refers to cases in which a person’s body is taken over by a Wiccan-based entity. The person whose body is invaded dies. The Wiccan life force then lives in the occupied body. Possessors seek out bodies of other witches as a witch’s body increases their powers. They are extremely dangerous.

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Below the definition were categories titled: origins, suspected powers and destroying a possessor. It seemed the best place to start was origins.

Origins: The Story of Aradnia and Dionus.

In ancient times, Aradnia and Dionus ruled a nation of Wiccan people. Aradnia was the lawmaker, a seeker of justice. She was even-tempered and wise. She wielded the power of the Wiccan God, often depicted as a moon.

Dionus was passionate, a warrior. He was strong and brave.

He held the power of the Wiccan Goddess, often depicted as the sun.

Both leaders were beloved. However, distinct factions existed among the populous. Devout followers of Aradnia extolled the virtues of her calm, wise approach to life. The followers of Dionus believed in being powerful and strong.

“Marc?” Jillian whispered through my closed door.

I put the book down.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Jillian slipped into the room and closed the door quietly.

“I know Mom wants me to leave you alone. But I need to talk to you,” she said.

She looked uncomfortable. I was not Jillian’s favorite person. She hated that our mother favored me. But Jillian was not easy to love. My mother wanted warmth and agreeableness. That was not Jillian.

“I know this witch stuff is hard to believe,” she said. There was genuine emotion in her voice. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Listen, I really need you to believe it because I need someone to talk to. Mom and Benjamin only talk about powers and spells. I can’t talk to them about what it’s really like to be a witch and a teenager. They don’t get it.”

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I had to be careful how I responded. Jillian almost never shared her real feelings. If I said the wrong thing she might never talk to me again. I didn’t want to go through this alone either.

“OK. I can maybe believe we are witches and have special powers,” I said. Last night’s tricks with the lights were pretty hard to explain otherwise. “I just can’t believe I have to kill people. I don’t want to do that.”

“I know but the Possessors are really dangerous,” she said.

She flopped down on the floor and crossed her legs. Her shoulders slumped forward. “If you read the sections about Aradnia and Dionus you’ll see.”

“I just started that part.”

“Where are you?”

I read to her from the book. “Throughout their rule, the nation occasionally battled other countries. Because of the immense power of Aradnia and Dionus, these battles were often short and almost never resulted in casualties. As the rulers aged, however, other nations began to perceive them as vulnerable and attacks occurred with increasing frequency. One day, they were attacked viciously and brutally. Invaders quickly advanced through the lands, reaching the capitol city. Drawing directly from the powers of the God and Goddess, Aradnia and Dionus were finally able to repel the invaders. However, their nation was severely crippled.”

“You should skip forward to the really important part, the part about Dionus wanting to live forever,” Jillian interrupted.

I flipped forward a few pages.

“The part where it says Dionus grew increasingly morose?”

“Yes, there.”

I started to read again: “Dionus wanted to be young again so he could protect his nation from any future attacks. He approached Aradnia with a way that they could live forever, by moving their souls into the bodies of younger Wiccans. Aradnia was appalled and said it disrupted the natural balance of life. She said their power was only temporarily on the earth and had to be returned to nature when they died.

“There’s a footnote here that says ‘see Prophecy of Ascension.’ What’s that?” I asked.

Jillian rolled her eyes.

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“There’s this weird prophecy,” she began. “It says something like: Two thousand years after the power of the Gods is returned to nature it will come back to earth again for something called the Final Ascension. The power of the Sun Goddess will come back in a child born during the winter solstice to a fallow daughter of Dionus.

Then, it says the Moon God will give his power to an Aradnian bloodline the night a fiery star passes between the moon and the earth. Anyway, when the powers reunite on earth it will start some sort of battle that determines the fate of all Wiccan kind. So, let’s hope those powers don’t return to the earth anytime soon. Of course, nothing good ever happens to me. So, they will probably come back tomorrow and we’ll all be obliterated.”

“Wow, you’re a real ray of sunshine,” I said.

“Shut up. Get back to the important stuff. Listen, I’ll just tell you. It will be faster. Dionus creates this spell to harness the power that removes souls from the body and shuttles them to the afterlife, the raven or something. He takes the energy and manipulates it to direct his soul into a younger body, which kills that guy’s soul.

Then, he goes in this new body to Aradnia and he says ‘well, I killed this other guy’s soul so I’ve kept the balance in nature.’ She’s pissed.

She knows she can’t let anyone find out what he did. So, she kills him. She’s then so distraught, she kills herself.”

“It was too late by then, though. He had already shown all of his closest Dionician friends how to move their souls and whatever.

So, she didn’t even stop the information from getting out. Nutty ending right?”

“I still don’t understand why we have to kill these Possessors, Jillian,” I said. I didn’t like Jillian telling me a story from her perspective. I wanted to read it myself.

“OK, whatever, read the next part. Maybe then you’ll understand,” she said, shrugging.

I opened the book and continued where it seemed like Jillian’s retelling of the story ended.

“There was an instant division between factions who followed Dionus and those who followed Aradnia. Animosity turned into war. Many Dionicians died during the battle of the invaders.

Their numbers were small and they were quickly defeated by the Aradnians.

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“The Aradnians expelled any remaining Dionicians. In response, the Dionicians possessed the bodies of Aradnians and tried to maneuver their way back into power. However, the Aradnians discovered the possessions and found ways to extract the soul from the body and kill it. They also realized that the soul of a possessor could not escape if the body was instantly killed.”

“That’s what they did,” Jillian interjected.

“Who?” “Mom and Benjamin. They magically located a Possessor and used a spell to kill it right before it could move its soul.”

It was so callous. These were people not “its.”

“Anyway, so, that’s the story,” Jillian said. “They call the last part The Great Schism. After that, the Aradnian leaders strictly banned all possession. They also said there could be no contact with Dionicians. So, the book says if we find Dionicians, we have to kill them or else they will try to take our bodies and destroy our souls.

Marc, seriously, if they are here, we are in trouble.”

Jillian was scared. I couldn’t blame her. If this story was even partially true, we were in danger. My family wasn’t perfect. I would still protect them at all costs.

These Possessors had knowledge and power. They would be smart enough to attack the youngest and most vulnerable in our family. That was me and Jillian. The best place for that was clear: school. There were no parents to protect us.

I suddenly had an idea. I flipped back to an entry I’d seen in the index.

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Chapter 10

Dagny “That cheerleading uniform is just terrible,” Ava said. “I’ll speak to the athletic director about getting new ones to cover things up.”

Ava’s great idea to insert herself even more into my life was to become the manager of the cheerleading squad. It was awful. She came to all the practices and sat prim and proper, ankles crossed and blouse buttoned up to her neck, watching us with her beady, judgmental eyes.

My cheeks reddened and I pulled my jacket closed over my exposed bellybutton. I already felt awkward being in someone else’s body. Now I felt twice as awkward in this tiny uniform that didn’t cover my stomach and exposed most of my legs.

“This was your idea,” I said to Ava, bitingly.

Jason and Ava exchanged a glance and then refocused on their tasks—driving and frowning, respectively. The car fell silent. I hoped it would stay that way.

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road there was a little house on a corner lot. It had a small pond in front of it with a dock. I loved that house. It made me think of my mother.

The memory of her standing in the pond flooded back again, suddenly. She had long flowing black hair and her skin was deep brown. The tip of her long dress floated on the top of the water. She held out her arms for me. I ran toward her. My feet splashed into the water and my arms circled her waist. She lifted my face up to look at her. Her green eyes were dark with worry. She started to speak.

“There is a darkness coming. It’s coming for you,” she said.

Jason cleared his throat and the door of the memory slammed shut. I couldn’t get it back.

“Dagny, before we get to school we need to talk about something,” he said.

“What now?” I said. I was annoyed. I was getting close to remembering something important and he ruined it.

“Are you planning on going to the party Friday night at Lily’s house?” Jason asked.

What party? I didn’t remember a party. This memory thing was so frustrating. Regardless, Jason and Ava didn’t seem as if they wanted me to go, so I was going no matter what. I’d figure out the details later.

“Yeah, so?” I said, defiantly.

“So? Do you remember the last party?” Jason scoffed.

“Newsflash: unlike you, I don’t remember every single moment of my previous lives. By the way, has anyone seen my chemistry book?” I quipped, as I dug through my bag. “Why are you bringing this up, anyway?”

“Because you’re impulsive and reckless,” Jason observed.

“I’m not reckless,” I protested, slamming my bag down. The hypocrisy of this statement was not lost on me. I had not forgotten my adventure in Las Vegas. “And I am going to that party.”

“Fine,” Ava said.

“You did say ‘fine,’ right?” I didn’t mean to sound incredulous but her response was shocking.

Jason pressed his lips together tightly. Even though he was big and strong, Ava was in charge.

“Just to be clear, we’ll both be there too,” Ava said. She turned around and looked down her nose at me.

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We pulled into our parking spot.

“Sure, yeah, whatever you want,” I said.

I scurried quickly out of the car and sprinted into school. I didn’t want to stick around to see if she suddenly changed her mind.

As I approached my locker, I saw Lily talking to a boy with unusual hair. Brooke was standing next to her staring out a large window. The boy looked at Lily as if she were a goddess. She giggled and flirtatiously laid a hand on his arm.

“Dagny,” Brooke called when she saw me. She quickly ran over. Lily followed.

For some reason, Lily and Brooke had taken a liking to me. I hoped it was because they actually liked me and not because my sister performed some sort of persuasion spell.

“You look adorable,” Lily said and gave me a hug.

I managed to mutter a thank you.

Brooke raised her eyebrows. She seemed to know that was not what I wanted to hear.

“You’re coming to my party on Friday, right?” Lily asked as she bobbed up and down next to my locker.

“Is it OK if I bring my brother and sister?”

“Of course. Your brother is a total cutie.” She said ‘cutie’ as though it was two distinct letters , Q-T. “A lot of guys from the team will be there. Speaking of which, do you like my new perfume? I want to catch the attention of a certain football player. I thought this might help.”

She thrust her wrist under my nose. It smelled like sugary flowers.

“Metropolitan magazine says boys are very attracted to smells. So, I figured, you know that saying, ‘you catch more guys with honey’.”

“I think it’s ‘you catch more flies with honey’.” Brooke corrected.

“Oh, that can’t be right. Why would anyone want to catch flies?” Lily said, dismissively. “Besides, it’s honey. You’d catch bees if you were going to catch an insect.”

“That makes no sense,” Brooke said.

Lily shrugged.

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“I got stung by a bee once,” I blurted out as an unwanted memory of a trip to the hospital rushed into my brain. The memory was so fierce it burst out of my mouth without my permission.

“Did something happen?” asked Brooke, worry creasing her forehead.

“My throat closed up. I couldn’t breathe. I had to go to the hospital,” I recounted.

I was young, maybe six. My mother’s green eyes shook with fright. She called my name and told me to stay calm. I was gasping and clutching my throat. It was terrifying not being able to breathe. I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. It was awful. I wanted to send the memory back behind the door and lock it away forever.

“So you’re allergic to bees? That’s scary. Do you carry an Epi-pen around with you?” Brooke asked.

“No,” I answered, reflexively.

That was an old body. I didn’t know if this body was allergic to bees or anything else. This was one of the many problems with Traveling. This body had a history I didn’t know about. I could be allergic to pollen, or bees or shellfish. We could heal the easy stuff— broken bones, stab wounds. But deep genetic and cellular material we could not manipulate. I was stuck with this girl’s unknown chemical imbalances and genetic make-up. It was frightening to think I could eat a peanut and suddenly die because I didn’t know I had an allergy. It could happen too quickly for me to Travel. I would be gone, like my mother.

I swallowed the pain creeping up my throat. My new friends might drop me if I was an emotional basket case.

“If you’re allergic to bees, you really should,” Brooke said.

Her face scrunched further with concern.

“Oh, no, I do.” I lied. “I mean I just… I forgot it at home today.”

The first bell rang, thankfully.

“Let’s go, Brooke. See you in English Dagny.”

After they left, I sorted through my textbooks. My stupid chemistry book was still missing. I debated using my special skills to find it. Ultimately, I decided against it. It might seem a little strange if it appeared out of nowhere. That was exactly the kind of 116

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thing my siblings would claim was impulsive and reckless. Instead, I tossed the contents of my locker on the floor using just my hands.

Marc Outside, night was turning into morning. Cars limped into the parking lot. Soon the auxiliary lights overhead would brighten and fully illuminate the hallway.

It was time.

Hidden in the shadows, I rubbed a mixture of sage, thyme and beetroot on my palm, all earth elements. Then, I breathed in deeply and softly repeated the word ‘Possessors’ as I exhaled. Spells didn’t really need words. Witches needed words. It helped focus the magical energy. This was all according to the Libri Dea, which I continued to read with skepticism.

The book was the reason I had lathered up my palm like a turkey. Part of me hoped nothing would happen and this was all some crazy hallucination caused by a gas leak.

According to the book, only other witches could see a seeker spell. I wanted to be sure that was true. I couldn’t ask Cody for help, even though I wanted to. I had to keep my new powers a secret. I didn’t like hiding such a huge change in my life from my best friend.

Instead, I decided it was morning and most students were groggy. If someone noticed, I’d immediately end the spell and hope it was shrugged off as early morning sleepiness.

After the 7th time I said ‘Possessors’, a tingling sensation began in the center of my palm. From it sprouted a black liquid-like line. It looked like a string made of thick ink. My stomach dropped.

There went my gas leak theory.

I held up my palm and stepped out of the shadows. A student walked by. I froze. Did he see the weird string floating out of my palm? He looked up and nodded. Then he put his head back down and walked on. I took that as a firm “No.” Slowly, the thin rope stretched out from me. It stopped a few feet away and swayed back and forth as though it was trying to find its bearings.

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The school started to fill quickly. A tall, thin boy with dark hair and a red backpack walked briskly toward me. He was headed straight for the rope, which bisected at least half the hallway.

Instinctively, I stiffened. I had to stop myself from yelling at him to watch out. Seconds later he passed right through the floating rope. It continued to hover and sway, oblivious to the boy or the other students now crossing it.

The tingling sensation suddenly morphed into a painful vibration. It felt as though an old, shaking alarm clock was going off inside my hand. The spasm crept up my arm. The rope stiffened.

Then, it quickly extended away from me and weaved down the hall.

The vibration spread through the rest of my body.

Students rushed passed me to and from their lockers. The bell rang. It sounded distant. My only concern was the rope.

The end of the rope rounded the corner and went out of sight.

A second later, it stopped stretching and started pulling me forward.

It strained like a fishing line. I had hooked my fish.

I paused when I reached the corner and craned my neck to see into the next hallway. I spied the end of the rope. It hovered over a small girl in a cheerleading outfit looking through a pile of books on the floor. Her loose ponytail fell to the side to tickle her face. She batted it away.

My worries, concerns, fears, questions, disappeared instantly.

All I saw, all I felt, was the pure, simple image of her.

I stepped forward. The rope held its position above her. It turned its invisible reel and drew me closer.

She shoved one of the books irritably and stood up. The rope thrust itself into her chest. She drew in a breath and looked at me, her eyes wide. Then, she slowly placed her hand on her chest. The rope was hurting her.

“Exitae.” I whispered the word to terminate the spell. The rope dissolved into nothingness.

I felt an overwhelming need to grab her, to wrap myself around her. All of the emotions I’d buried from Vegas resurfaced.

“Hi,” I whispered when I was a breath away.

Her face was just as I remembered it. Her sunflower eyes looked up at me through her thick light eyelashes. Her little nose was slightly scrunched and sat perfectly over the pout on her mouth.

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I didn’t give her a chance to respond. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to me. Her head fell backwards and I pressed my lips to hers. The touch instantly fulfilled that longing inside me, that need for something more.

After a few seconds I let her go. She took a small step backwards and put the tips of her fingers to her lips. Something in my core ignited, a spark. I needed to touch her again. I reached out to caress her cheek. Instead, my fingers curled around her hand and pinned it behind her back. In the same motion, I seized her waist with my palm, wrenching her toward me and covered her mouth with mine.

Her lips were light and unsure. Maybe she didn’t want this.

Maybe she didn’t feel the same way about me. I started to pull away.

In response, she flung her arms around my neck. The spark inside me exploded and I yanked her even closer. The force of my reaction sent us falling backward against the lockers.

I turned her head to the side with my palm and I kissed her more deeply. My hand, resting on the small of her back, tingled with the heat of the touch. She moaned softly. It was the best sound I’d ever heard.

My lips trailed down toward her collar bone. She took my face in her palms and brought me back to her lips, forcefully kissing me. Every touch released a fire that scorched through my body.

When it reached my heart, it began to race.

Our kissing became more urgent as though we couldn’t get close enough. We couldn’t be intertwined enough. I didn’t realize until this moment how much I wanted her, no, needed her.

The second bell rang.

Breathing heavily, we both took a reluctant step back.

A few people blatantly watched us, not caring if they were late to class. When I looked around, they either turned away embarrassed or looked like they wanted to give me a high five. I could only smile. I didn’t care what they thought.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said, breathlessly.

I had so many questions. First, did she not realize when we met we were going to the same town? She must have seen my address when she made the fake ID. “Did you just use a seeker spell on me?” she whispered, urgently.

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“Oh, that, yeah, how’d you know? Well, I guess I know the answer.” I chuckled. I’d completely forgotten a spell brought us back together. Maybe this witch thing wasn’t so bad after all.

Dagny was not amused. She reached her hand back and let it fly. Her palm hit me hard in the face. Ouch. Totally worth it.

“That will be the last time you ever kiss me,” she said. Then she flipped around and stalked away.

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Chapter 11

Dagny My legs were unsteady. I carefully moved each one. I had to think this through. Step. He was actually here, real, in person. Step.

He kissed me. Step. Did that mean he didn’t reject me? Step. He used a spell in public. Step. He’s a witch. Step. He knows I’m a witch too. Stop. I had to call Jason and Ava. I thrust my hand to the bottom of my backpack to find the phone. Instead, I found several small objects–loose change, pens, erasers. Ouch–keys. No phone. Maybe this was the universe telling me I shouldn’t call. Sure, I’d made a promise. But did I really need to worry my family over such a low level witch? He still had to use words to end spells. Only novices needed words. He couldn’t possibly be a danger. Plus, if I told my family, they may want to Travel again.

Worry gripped me tight. I didn’t want to Travel again.

Step. New plan: I would just stay away from him. No contact meant no problem. I could do that. I could avoid him.

“Miss Bennet, you’re late.” My teacher scolded me as I followed my thoughts into chemistry class. “Take a seat.”

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Every person in the room snapped their heads in unison to stare at me. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Mumbling an apology, I looked for the closest available desk to disappear into. Finally, I spotted one. I stepped forward, then froze.

Marc patted an empty chair right next to him. His eyes flickered confidently. My mind lurched and my body followed suit. I threw my left leg over my right and sent my entire body off balance.

I probably looked like the Tin Man taking his first step. Awkwardly, I fell into a seat further toward the back.

Snickers bubbled up around the room. I barely registered them. I was too distracted by Marc’s intense gray-blue eyes aimed right at me. My body shivered. This would not do. He had no chance with me, absolutely none.

I tapped the sole of my shoe impatiently against the linoleum through the entire class. When the bell rang, I leapt to my feet.

Marc I hadn’t seen Dagny since first period and it was almost lunch time. It wasn’t surprising. Our school was large. That didn’t stop me from searching each crowded hallway between classes. Yes, I realized this was stalker-like behavior. I didn’t care. I had to find her. When I touched her, it changed something in me. I was different now. I could feel it.

Finally, I spotted a familiar face. It wasn’t Dagny’s but it was still a good second place.

“Hey, Cody,” I called.

Cody was much smaller than me. What he lacked in size, he made up for in personality. His hair was always changing from braids to spikes. It was blue today, tomorrow it might be purple. He also drew intricate patterns on any available space on his body. He was a talented artist. Parents took one look at him and thought he was a delinquent. They didn’t realize it would all just wash off in the shower.

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about the kiss. I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow skirted the space-time continuum and found out before me.

“Hey man. So there’s a rumor going around that you made out with the new cute cheerleader,” Cody said as soon as he was in earshot.

“You think all girls are cute,” I observed, chuckling.

“My man, they all are,” he said, with a slow drawl and his trademark sleepy eyes. “So, what was up with that anyway? It’s not like you to just kiss some random girl.”

“I just kind of felt like it.” It was the best I could do.

“I heard she punched you,” he said, laughing.

“Yep, she did. She has a mean right hook.” I figured there was no point in fighting the rumor mill.

“That’s hot. Speaking of hot girls, Lily’s having a party this weekend. You going?”

“I’ll be there,” I answered. Dagny was a cheerleader. Lily was the Captain. There was a good chance Dagny would be at the party. “So, anyone else get punched in the face while I was gone?”

Cody gave me a rundown of recent events in normal Cody fashion. He spoke leisurely. His stories melded into each other, separated by commas, never periods. I easily got lost in an amusing tale of his father’s battle with the new mailman.

“And he keeps delivering the wrong mail, he’s new though, man, it happens, my Dad gets all upset and starts huffing around the house throwing the mail around, it must be hard to be new, like that new family at school, I guess you ‘met’ one of them today,” his words dragged along slowly. “In case you were wondering the name of the girl you put your mouth on, it’s Dagny, her sister is Ava and the brother is Jason, her brother’s the new quarterback, sounds like he’s going to be really good, Dagny’s sister goes to her cheerleading practices, she’s the cheerleading manager or something, their Dad is reopening that wine store on Freemont, I think he’s a widower, Lily says Dagny doesn’t say much about her Mom.” My stomach dropped.

“I need to get some books before class,” I said in the middle of Cody’s story and then I ran for the door.

The realization took hold as my feet whisked past each other: My parents killed her mother. I should tell Dagny to leave, to run, to move to another body, immediately. Then I would lose her again.

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Maybe I could reason with my family. This was just some stupid law from some stupid book.

No, that wouldn’t work. Benjamin was determined. He would never understand. If he knew about Dagny, he would kill her.

I had to protect her.

I sprinted to my locker to grab the book.

Dagny My goal for the rest of the day was to avoid Marc. But I also wanted to avoid my brother and sister. Rumors traveled fast. They would grill me about the kiss as soon as they could find me.

Just then I spotted Ava at the end of the hall. She would see me any second. I looked around frantically for an escape.

I quickly ducked into the ladies room and hid in one of the stalls, just to be safe.

“Dagny?”

It was Brooke. I didn’t even notice her when I ran in the bathroom.

“Are you OK?” Brooke asked, sweetly.

I cleared my throat and tried to act normal.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said.

I straightened my shoulders and exited the stall.

“You looked upset,” she said.

“No, no. I came in here to avoid my sister. She and my brother can be kind of annoying.”

“Yeah, siblings are the worst. I have an older brother too, Jason’s grade. He’s at boarding school. It’s awesome. I only have to see him on holidays. When he was here he was always telling me what to do. I’m glad you’re OK. I thought you might be upset about that whole kiss rumor.”

“No, I don’t really care about that. Should I care? What exactly are people saying?” I stammered.

“That Marc Chandler kissed you and you slapped him.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, mostly. Some people said you practically had sex with him in public.”

“What? It was just a kiss.” I was mortified.

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Brooke put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. It was comforting.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Something else will happen tomorrow and everyone will forget about it.”

I felt better. Brooke had a calming way about her.

Suddenly, Lily burst through the door.

“I have been looking for you everywhere. Tell me everything.”

Mr. Smith I had a name.

“Dagny,” I said. My loins quivered with a dark lust.

“Who’s this Dagny chick you keep talkin’ about?” August asked. He stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Half of it tumbled down his shirt.

I ignored him.

It was not enough to have a name. I also required a location.

I unfolded another map and went in search of a knife. This time I chose an arrowhead, an ancient Native American hunting tool, imbued with power to hunt and kill its prey. On one side, I had carefully engraved the symbol of the Goddess and, on the other side, the four pointed cross inside a circle, a rudimentary version of the Compass Rose.

I approached August with the tool. He groaned and held out his arm. The arrowhead was blunt. I jabbed it into his right leg and yanked it out. Blood started gushing.

“Ouch, man. That one looks bad.”

August quickly turned pale. He couldn’t die yet.

I held the map underneath his dripping leg. Then, I pressed a t-shirt against his wound.

“Hold it tight if you want to live,” I said.

He grabbed the t-shirt with a shaking hand and pressed down. I walked away with the bloodied map and laid it down on the table.

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tool and blood. A red line crawled slowly across the map of the US, ending at the northern tip of Virginia. “Finally,� I said to myself. I was getting closer. Now, I needed to hone in on an exact location.

I opened up my suitcase of knives. There was another one I could try.

I looked over at August. His body shook with fear. I smiled.

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Chapter 12

Jason “Enough Ava,” my father snapped uncharacteristically from the kitchen.

He was new to kitchen duty. It had been my mother’s territory. He insisted on taking over. Ava, not surprisingly, had other ideas.

I stood in the corner and watched the battle unfold. He would set the oven to 400 degrees. Then, Ava would twist her finger in the air in a circle. It would jump to 450. He would slice a tomato.

Seconds later, it was mysteriously diced. Eventually, he cracked. It was to be expected.

Ava whipped off her apron. She floated over to my corner.

“When we talk to her about this boy, stay calm,” she whispered. “I know you are very protective of her, especially when it comes to boys.”

“Ava, she’s so young and innocent,” I said, trying to justify my fierce protective nature.

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Ava raised her eyebrows and pinched her lips together.

“I will. I promise. Did you do a reading on this boy yet?” I asked.

“Yes, but it was strange. Maybe my powers are off. I can’t control them enough to get a good reading.”

“What do you mean?”

It took strength and focus to control the elements. It was easier for us now, after Traveling for so long. We could summon the elements for basic spells without words or tools. The more complicated the spell, the more we still needed those things.

Sometimes, even with them, it could be hard to control a very powerful spell. One time my father attempted to magically cut down one tree. He ended up leveling half a forest. Magic isn’t always perfect.

But Ava was precise. She never lost control. She was never off.

“What are you two discussing?” Dad asked.

“The boy at school who kissed Dagny, Ava did a reading on him. She said it was weird.”

“I said strange.” Ava loved to correct people. “Anyway, the last card of the reading was blank.”

My father put down his knife and looked up thoughtfully.

“I’ve never heard of that,” he said.

“I’m going to try again tonight,” Ava said. “Listen, on another note, I think we need to tell Dagny that we aren’t going to use magic anymore. We already asked her not to use magic at school. Dad, you said once that not using our powers may make it harder to track us, right?”

“How do we keep her safe if we don’t use our power?” I protested.

“We will still use our powers,” Ava explained. “We just tell her we’re not so she will stop. It’s her power that is the most trackable anyway. It’s like a beacon of light saying—here, come get me.”

“We’ve dealt with that,” I said.

All of the rituals Ava and I performed on the house were aimed at hiding Dagny. Plus, before we left Los Angeles, Dad, Ava and I performed the secret spell. The one Dagny didn’t know about.

It was shameful but necessary.

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“It’s not enough. We need to do everything we can to protect her,” Ava said. “Dad, what do you think?”

“I do not like manipulating her further,” he answered. “We have told her many lies. I do not want to add to them.”

“Dad, we told you about what I saw with her reading. We need to try everything we can to change the reading,” Ava argued.

I sensed Dagny approaching.

“Shhh, she’s coming,” I said.

Dagny Everyone was quiet at the dinner table. No one mentioned Marc, yet. I wondered who would bring it up first.

“So, why did this complete stranger randomly kiss you?”

Jason asked as though he read my mind.

My father silently took a scoop of salad from the bowl and spooned it on my plate.

I twitched with embarrassment and anxiety. I didn’t want to lie to them. I also couldn’t tell them Marc wasn’t a complete stranger and I definitely couldn’t tell them he was a witch.

I looked down at my plate to avoid eye contact and stabbed at a small, red tomato. Did they really think I was going to eat this?

“I don’t know. Who cares? Can we talk about something else?” I said. I tucked my hand into my scarf and pulled on it nervously. “Can we go to the store this weekend and get that TV we talked about or could I at least get my own computer?”

“We have a computer,” Jason said.

“That ancient box in the living room barely turns on,” I objected.

“Dagny, stop trying to change the subject,” Ava scolded. “I know you’re in a teenager’s body and there are hormones involved.

But, you cannot start dating a human. It’s dangerous to get to close to them. You even need to be careful with the friends you make.

Keep them at a distance.”

“I can’t date humans. I can’t date witches. What am I left with? Frogs? Turtles?” I complained.

“So you want to date him?” Jason said.

“I didn’t say that.”

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“Dagny, this is important,” Dad said. “Please listen.”

I didn’t need him chiming in too. They were all ganging up on me.

“Can you please stop the interrogation? Danger. I get it. I won’t kiss any more humans, witches, frogs, mice or anything with a heartbeat. I swear.”

“You also need to stay away from this boy, far away. Maybe Dagny should change schools,” Jason said. His voice was low. That always happened when he started to get upset.

“Change schools? Don’t you think that’s a little much?” I said.

I didn’t want any more change. Life didn’t feel exactly normal. But it was starting to feel adjacent to normal. I went to school. I talked with my friends. I did homework. I liked this place.

Ava gave Jason a look. He stuffed a large bite of lasagna in his mouth and chewed loudly. She didn’t like my eating habits?

“I don’t think it’s necessary, yet,” Ava said. “Still, Dagny, you need to understand. If anyone suspects we are different, even humans, we would be in danger. We might have to Travel again.”

I didn’t want to Travel. I didn’t want to forget practically everything and everyone and then start over again. What if the next time I Traveled I forgot my mother? My father said I didn’t forget my family. Maybe I only remembered them because they were always with me.

Memories were all I had left of her. There were no pictures or home movies. At least now I remembered things about her, like the way she smelled, her eyes or how she always pulled back my hair to kiss my forehead.

“I understand. I don’t want to Travel,” I said.

My throat was suddenly thick again with pain. I pushed it back deep inside of me. Neither Ava nor Jason had shed a tear over my mother, at least not in front of me. I couldn’t cry in front of them.

“Alright everyone,” Dad said. “It seems Dagny understands.

Now, there is something else I would like to discuss.” His tone was serious. It made the room feel heavy. “I would like you to stop using magic.”

“Like completely?” I asked, confused.

Jason and Ava exchanged glances.

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“Your mother believed not performing magic may make it more difficult to be tracked. I think it may be best to try this for a while,” he explained.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I said.

I wanted to say so much more. How was I supposed to stop using magic? Half the time I called on the elements without even trying. It was just a thought or a wish. I couldn’t say these things, though. My family was already afraid of my power.

“You can do it. You can all do it. Think of it as doing things the old fashioned way.”

“OK Dad, we’ll try it if you think it will help keep us all safe,” Ava said.

Hold on. Ava would never agree to give up magic so easily.

There was something else going on here. I was going to figure it out.

Jillian There were two cans of diet soda, eggs, a stick of butter and Chinese takeout cartons. Someone needed to go to the grocery store.

Whatever. It wouldn’t be me.

I grabbed one of the cartons and sniffed. Lo mein.

“I would’ve picked the stick of butter,” Marc said.

I turned around. Marc had on his jacket and was twirling the keys to my car on his right index finger.

“You gonna go to the game?” he asked.

“I haven’t gone to one yet. Why start now?”

I took out a fork and shoved a large portion of noodles in my mouth. It tasted like the refrigerator smelled.

“Sorry, just thought you might want to try to have fun.”

“What’s the point?” I said, shrugging.

“You want me to make you something else? I think there is some pasta in the pantry. I could cook you up a butter sauce. There might still be some sage outside.”

“I like this,” I lied. I forced down another mouthful of noodles. There was nothing worse than having your little brother try to take care of you.

“OK then, can I take your car?” he asked.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Cool, thanks.”

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Marc sauntered out the door. He had it so easy.

“Jillian,” my mother called from upstairs.

“What?”

“Is your brother gone?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes,” I said, groaning.

“Good, come up here to our room.”

“I’m eating,” I yelled, even though I really didn’t want to eat anymore of the disgusting noodles.

“You can finish later. We need your help.”

“Fine,” I said.

I tossed the carton in the trash and walked upstairs. The door to her bedroom was open. A small streak of light cut across the hallway. I pushed open the door.

The room was covered in dozens of glowing black candles.

On the floor, 13 were set in a circle. Outside the circle, 3 chalices covered with deep red stones made a triangle. A circle within a triangle was a symbol usually used to temporarily wield great power.

My mother sat cross-legged in a long blue dress. Her hair flowed loosely down to her shoulders. She looked airy and beautiful.

One of the chalices touched her legs right at the point where they crossed. Her eyes were closed and she was muttering. She let out a quick guttural sound and suddenly her hair lifted up around her as though she were floating in water.

“Very good, Elaine,” Benjamin encouraged. He sat diagonally from her with the second chalice in front of him.

“So, what’s up?” I said.

Benjamin put his finger to his lips and motioned for me to sit down next to the third chalice.

“What is going on?” I whispered.

“Your mother is channeling the water element to talk to the spirits.”

Apparently, my mother’s mystical connection was the water element. I hadn’t figured out my mystical element. I seemed to be bad at all types of spells equally. It took me weeks to master the spell I did in front of Marc.

Benjamin forced me to practice for hours every day. It was so hard. I just wanted to give up. Last night I tried to levitate my 132

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bedside table and instead broke the leg of my desk chair. Being a witch sucked.

“Why is she talking to the spirits?”

“To locate the Possessors,” he answered.

Benjamin placed his fingertips inside the chalice.

“We’re still doing that?” I asked.

I didn’t want to find these Possessors. They scared me. Plus, I agreed with my brother on one thing. I didn’t want to kill anyone.

“It’s either we find them or they find us. Which do you prefer?” Benjamin said.

“Is neither an option?”

He glared.

“Put your hand in the cup,” he commanded. “The spirits are unreliable and vague. It takes great power to focus them. We need to help her.”

“What’s in the cup?”

Last time they did a spell like this they used blood. I didn’t want to stick my hands anywhere without knowing what was inside.

“It’s only water,” Benjamin said.

Reluctantly, I placed the fingertips of my right hand inside the chalice. It felt like water. Although, it wasn’t like I knew how a cup full of blood felt.

My mother’s eyes flashed open. They were completely white and beyond eerie.

“Covered, hidden, veiled. A void in nature, nearby,” she said.

Her voice was low and vibrated strangely, almost like there was an echo.

“How close?” Benjamin urged.

“Close, very close,” she said. It wasn’t vibrating. It was more than one voice speaking in unison through her.

“Are they in this county or this town?”

“Yes, so close,” the voices said.

“Is she one of them?” Benjamin said.

“Covered, hidden, veiled, protected.”

“Is it them?” Benjamin raised his voice.

“Sun. Moon.” My mother hissed. Suddenly, the voices sounded angry. “Death.”

I didn’t like this. I pulled my hands out of the cup. My mother collapsed on the floor.

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Dagny Balancing seat cushions, paper cups and hotdogs, fans settled into their seats. A horn tooted and a drum beat four times. The crowed ebbed and flowed.

Lily bounced beside me, practicing jumps and cartwheels.

Brooke calmly stretched on the track with long, graceful movements. I stared at the bleachers. In front of hundreds of strangers, I suddenly forgot how to move my limbs.

Ava was there, of course. That didn’t make me feel better.

She was chatting with a group of girls. Ava made friends easily. But they were just accessories, new shoes that she was interested in at first. As she broke them in, she found they gave her blisters or didn’t match any of her outfits.

The current group she was trying on included a sharp, shrewd stiletto with a bored expression and a flat, athletic running shoe with a pink round face. By next week she would rotate to a penny loafer who wore collared shirts.

“Oh, Dagny, your skirt,” Lily said, running over to me.

The back of my skirt was tucked into the waistband.

Apparently, I was not going to complete this night with my dignity intact. Lily batted at the fabric.

“Oh no, you must be mortified,” she said.

“No, I’m thrilled everyone’s seen my granny panties,” I said.

My cheeks flushed.

“They’re bloomers, not granny panties,” Lily said, very seriously. She was clearly dismayed at the idea she could wear anything that wasn’t adorable.

I looked back up at the bleachers to see exactly how many people saw my underwear. I locked eyes with Marc. Panicked, I looked away.

“Get into position everyone,” Lily called.

We formed two lines on the field in front of a large paper sign painted with peppy words such as ‘Go Team’ and ‘Go, Fight, Win’.

My eyes drifted back to Marc. He was surrounded by people.

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every conversation. He smiled politely and answered without taking his eyes off me. My heart galloped.

The announcer’s voice turned my attention back to football.

His booming voice introduced the names and numbers of the players. He rolled his r’s and extended the end of each player’s name for emphasis. There were loud cheers for each player. Those were practically whispers compared to the explosion of screams when my brother’s name was called through the loudspeaker. Even the band went into a full-fledged, instrumental blowout when he stepped onto the field.

“Nice granny panties,” he noted as he passed by me.

“See,” I said to Lily.

“They’re bloomers,” she screeched.

Jason mechanically jogged with the other players to the sidelines.

The crowd hung on Jason’s every movement. When he drew his arm back for a pass, they held their breaths. When he was tackled, they jumped up in their seats. We won the game. Well, Jason won the game.

I think the number of his admirers tripled. It should have been a great night for him. Although, he wouldn’t see it that way.

After the game, Brooke and I waited for Lily at the fence next to the field while she talked with our coach.

The team walked by us, a mass of smelly, dirty boys headed for the locker room.

“Good game,” I said when Jason passed by.

He nodded but didn’t respond.

“God your brother is hot,” Lily said, coming up behind us.

“He is coming to the party right?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

“Great. Let’s get going.”

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Chapter 13

Jillian “Mom,” I screamed. She was limp on the floor.

Benjamin scooped her up in his arms. He gently placed her on the bed and pulled the covers up around her.

“Is she going to be OK?” I asked, shaking.

He didn’t answer. He waved his hand across the candles on the floor. They went dark.

“What’s wrong with her? Will she wake up?” I said, pleading.

“Let’s talk downstairs,” he whispered.

He took my elbow and guided me into the hall. Silently, we walked toward the stairs. Once in the living room, he sat down on the edge of the sofa. His elbows rested on his knees. He clasped his hands together.

“Have a seat, Jillian.”

This was not good. I fell back into the brown armchair. The upholstery was faded and fraying at the edges.

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“Elaine will be alright. She will wake up soon. But, you can’t just stop a spell like that, it’s very dangerous.”

“I’m sorry.” I looked away guiltily. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, I think it’s time you know what is really going on.

Elaine might not like that I am telling you this. That being said, I think it will make you take magic more seriously.”

“I take magic seriously,” I said. Sort of.

He raised his eyebrows and leaned back on the couch.

“Well, the first thing you need to know is that I did not meet your mother by accident at a grocery store, like we told you. I was looking for her.”

“Looking for her? Why?” “To help her fulfill the destiny of her bloodline,” Benjamin answered.

I didn’t like where this was going.

“What destiny?”

“Your family bloodline has a purpose, Jillian. We told you your family has been warring with a particular group of Possessors for centuries. I know we made it sound as though there wasn’t a reason, however there is. You remember the Prophecy of Ascension about the God and Goddess’s power returning to earth?”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“Well, centuries ago a seer foresaw the two bloodlines that would give birth to the children with those powers. One of those was foretold to be Aradnian and the other Possessor. The Aradnian bloodline is yours.”

“Us? That must be a mistake. You might want to check again on that.”

His amber eyes narrowed. His stare drew me toward him like a magnet. I leaned forward.

“Don’t be cavalier,” he scolded. “This is important. Your ancestors vowed to protect the power of the God and prevent it from ever reuniting with the Goddess.”

“Because the prophecy says it will lead to a battle that determines the fate of all Wiccans?” I asked.

Being a part of this family sucked. I didn’t want this kind of responsibility.

“Exactly and most believe it means many will die.”

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“Super,” I said and sighed. I was sure I’d be one of the ones who died. Marc would probably live. All the good stuff happened to him.

“To protect the power of the God, your ancestors decided to find the Possessor that was supposed to give birth to the child with the Goddess’ power and kill her. They spent centuries tracking her and came close once. They killed someone else in her family but missed her.”

“So that’s what Mom meant when she said one of our ancestors killed a Possessor?” I said.

“Yes and last month we finally killed the Possessor your line has been seeking for centuries.”

I shuddered at how coldly he talked about this. He didn’t see them as people. He was hunting animals. He looked proud of his kill. This was a little dark, even for me.

“So, why are you still after them? We should be done, right?

Mission accomplished or whatever?”

“No, we were too late. The child had already been born. We killed the mother. But the child still lives and is close by now. That’s what the spirits meant. It is more dangerous than you even realize.

We have to find the child now. It’s more important than ever.”

“Why?” I said.

My hands were trembling. I wasn’t going to like this answer.

“The prophecy says the Moon God will give his power to an Aradnian the night a fiery star passes between the moon and the earth. Seventeen years ago on the day your brother was born, an asteroid passed between the earth and the moon.”

“Are you seriously saying my brother is the one in the prophecy?”

Like Marc wasn’t perfect enough, now he had the power of the God. “Yes. Now that I’ve seen his power, I’m sure of it.”

“So, we have to find and kill this Possessor to prevent the end of the world?” I asked.

“Precisely,” Benjamin said.

Great. Could this get any worse?

“There’s one more thing. If we can’t find her, we will have to destroy Marc instead to stop the prophecy from coming true.”

Oh yeah, it could get worse.

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Dagny Even though everything was ready, Lily anxiously flitted around. First, she set the plastic cups next to the keg, provided courtesy of a football player’s older brother. Then, she moved them back to the table. Next, she collected anything that looked breakable, only to put it all back again.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.

“No, no,” she said. She whirled by me—a streak of sheer fabric and tight black jeans.

Brooke shrugged and sat down. She picked up a magazine from the coffee table and flipped through the pages. I joined her on the couch and pulled my book out of my bag.

“What are you reading?” Brooke asked.

“Atlas Shrugged,” I answered. “My Mom named me after the main character.”

“That’s cool.”

Lily collapsed between us and sighed.

“I’m so nervous,” she said.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be a lot of fun.” Brooke assured her.

“If my parents find out, they’ll kill me. They are so serious.

All they care about is studying and stuff.”

“You mean they didn’t flee Iran just so their daughter could throw secret parties while they were out of town?” Brooke said.

“Very funny,” said Lily.

“Why did they leave you home alone?” I wondered.

“Her cousin is supposed to be watching her,” Brooke explained.

“She told me she’d report I was the perfect angel,” Lily added. “Everyone will be here any minute. What if my neighbors say something? What if the cops come?”

Before today, the party had just been a concept. Now that it was here, Lily was terrified. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

“We can cancel the party,” I told her.

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social ostrich. No one will invite me to their parties and Homecoming is next week. I can’t risk it.”

“Lily, it’s not worth turning into a giant bird over this,” I said, giggling.

I couldn’t remember what exactly Homecoming was and I didn’t want to ask. Clearly, a 16-year-old junior in high school was supposed to know already, at least the way Lily talked about it. It sounded fun, though. It sounded normal. I desperately wanted to be part of it.

She looked at me blankly.

“It’s social ostracism, not ostrich,” I said.

“Oh, I’m so bad with these things.”

Lily laughed with a tinge of embarrassment. Although Lily didn’t have an accent from her native country, she still had trouble with American colloquialisms. She tried to hide it. It made her feel different. It reminded me everyone felt like an outsider sometimes.

“So do you want to cancel?” I asked.

She sucked in a large breath and let it out slowly.

“No, I want to have this party,” Lily asserted. “You guys will help me clean up right?”

“Yes, of course,” Brooke and I both agreed.

The doorbell rang and Lily sprang to her feet. She tottered for a moment on her high heels. Then, she walked to the front door.

The house filled quickly. Groups formed and dissolved like globs in a lava lamp. I stood in the corner with Brooke, holding a red plastic cup filled with beer. I sipped it slowly.

“My brother is coming back to town for some sort of fall break. I’m going to have to put up with him for a whole week,” Brooke said.

“That really sucks,” I said.

“I guess I should tell Marc,” she said.

“Marc?”

“Yeah, the guy who drive-by kissed you,” Brooke said.

At the mention of his name, my skin started to tingle.

“Why would you tell him?” I tried to speak casually and took a sip of my drink.

“They were good friends before my brother left for boarding school. I didn’t think they talked anymore. My brother is so caught up with his rich friends now. I guess I was wrong because he asked 141

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me to tell Marc he was coming home. Speaking of brothers, is yours here yet? I wasn’t sure since I haven’t heard any girls squeal like idiots in a while,” she said.

I convulsed with laughter and nearly spit out my drink.

Brooke was a great friend. Lily swooned when she saw my brother. But Brooke didn’t see Jason as a hot football star. She just saw her friend’s annoying brother. I loved that about her.

“Yeah, he and Ava are here somewhere, unfortunately.”

Brooke nodded.

I felt it before I saw him—a flash of excitement and longing so sudden and fierce I almost dropped my cup. Then, there he was.

He slid his hand through his thick black hair. His muscles peaked out from under his blue short-sleeved shirt. My body vibrated with excitement. He hadn’t seen me yet.

I glanced around for an escape. I noticed two large glass doors leading to the back porch.

“Um, I need some air,” I said to Brooke.

“Dagny, it’s freezing outside.”

“I won’t be out there long,” I assured her.

Quietly, I slipped through the back doors, hoping I could disappear in the darkness.

From outside, I could see the whole party. That boy I once saw talking to Lily, I think his name was Cody, sauntered over to where I had been standing next to Brooke. He handed her a fresh cup and they started talking. He leaned in close to her.

Lily bounced up and down in the far corner of the living room with her left hand on the bicep of the football team’s star receiver and her other hooked into the arm of a running back.

Ava and Jason were at the center of the room surrounded on all sides by people trying to get their attention. The kids at our school acted like awestruck groupies around my siblings, especially Jason.

Ava nodded politely and occasionally responded to the crowd. Every few seconds she looked up and her eyes searched the room. Jason did not speak or acknowledge anyone. Instead he turned his head left and right, scanning. They were both looking for me. I didn’t have long before they panicked.

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Turning away, I rested my elbows on the deck railing and gazed into the blackness. Off in the distance the lights of the homes looked like water reflecting the stars.

A breeze brushed against my cheek and carried with it a scent that was deep and powerful. My body buzzed. He followed me outside. I straightened instinctively but didn’t look at him.

“Can we talk?” Marc asked.

He came closer and laid his hand on top of mine. Every cell in my body woke up and vibrated, just like when he kissed me. It was a primal reaction. I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.

“No,” I said, firmly.

Out of my peripheral vision I saw Jason and Ava talking.

Their faces pinched with concern. I needed to go back inside before they did something drastic to find me.

Marc took his hand off of mine. I wished he hadn’t.

He wasn’t wearing a jacket despite the cold. His bare arms looked silver, like steel, in the moonlight. I shivered and suppressed my desire to ask him if he was cold.

Instead, I turned resolutely and started to make my way back inside.

“Dagny, wait,” he said, pleadingly.

I stopped.

“There’s a trail about a half mile from here on Sully road.

You know it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I squeaked. “It’s near my house.”

“Good, meet me there, tonight at midnight.”

“No,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I could stay away.

Marc I waited at the edge of a narrow trail that snaked through town. This part dipped into a low field enclosed by a dense patch of trees. Each tree sprouted long fingers from its base. A few summer leaves still clung to the branches. The rest papered the ground and made it slick. A cool wind gusted and scraped at the leaves.

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noticing the drum solo in a song, now I noticed the pressure in the air or shape of the moon. It was weird. It had an upside, though. I had pretty awesome powers.

I sat down on the grass next to the path. My backpack, filled with the contents of the magical toolbox, was propped up against a nearby tree stump. Now that I was a witch I brought it with me everywhere. I wanted to have the book and materials for spells nearby in case I needed them.

While I waited for Dagny, I passed the time by working on a particularly difficult spell. I’d been trying for hours. So far I wasn’t able to make it work.

I placed my right palm on the ground. I’d try one more time.

Then I’d go. After 3 hours, she probably wasn’t coming.

In my left hand I held a piece of a bird’s nest and crushed eggshells. I had found the nest with three eggs, broken open and empty, on the ground at the start of the trail. It was one of the key ingredients for the levitation spell. So I figured I’d give it a try while I waited.

Another ingredient for the spell was water. I lifted my right hand so it hovered above the leaves on the ground. They were wet with dew. I willed the water toward my skin. Tiny droplets floated up and clung to my palm. It was like watching it rain in reverse. My palm pulsed with energy.

A branch cracked a few feet away. I snapped my head toward the sound, hoping to see her. There was nothing but darkness and trees.

I turned my concentration back to the spell and reconnected with the water. My palm hummed again instantly.

The spell also needed dirt. I pressed the side of my shoe down into the mud. Heat swelled up from the core of the earth and into my toes. That was fast.

Lastly, I needed fire. It was a powerful spell. It required all four elements.

I kept candles and matches in my backpack. It was strange to have these things with me all the time.

The candle was already next to me on a flat piece of ground.

I took a breath and blew it toward the candle. My breath was supposed to make the wick light on fire. This was where I got stuck every time. I just couldn’t do it.

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I blew out until I had no breath left in me. The wick wiggled and flickered and then ignited with a bright flash. The flame danced tall in the darkness.

Finally. I did it.

Now, it was time for the final element.

I closed my eyes and focused on the air, mixing it around with my mind, like stirring batter in a bowl. It trilled with energy.

Wind swirled around me, whipping and lashing at my face.

Suddenly, I felt weightless. I opened my eyes. I did it. I was floating. I had to admit it was ridiculously cool.

“Boo,” a voice whispered from behind me.

I dropped to the ground. “Fini,” I said to end the spell. The wind quieted down. My palm stopped vibrating.

“Ouch. Jeez, Dagny,” I said.

“Sorry. You were all floaty. I couldn’t resist.” She brushed wind-blown wisps of knotted hair behind her ear.

“You were watching me?”

“Just for a minute,” she said, defensively.

She shivered and pulled her scarf closer to her neck.

“You didn’t wear a jacket,” I said.

“I forgot,” she answered.

My first instinct was to put my arms around her. I just wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Instead, I closed my eyes and tapped into the electric current in the air, creating a blanket of heat around her.

“Stop it,” she commanded. “No magic.”

Quickly, I untethered myself from the fire element and ended the spell. I did it without saying even a syllable. That was the first time I did that, too.

My power was getting stronger every day. At this moment it felt stronger than ever. Energy flowed across my skin, like it was on fire. Was it because I was near her? Was it because she was watching me that I was finally able to levitate?

“Sorry, I’m trying not to use magic,” she said, looking away.

She bit her lip. It was cute. “We’re trying to live like normal humans.”

I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to her.

“No, then you’ll be cold,” she said. “You’re only wearing a tshirt.”

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“I’ll be fine, take it.”

Even on the chilliest days, I rarely felt cold.

She took the jacket and put it around her shoulders.

I laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s a little big,” I said.

She looked down at the long arms that reached almost to the ground. Her eyes brightened with amusement. The energy racing across my skin surged. I felt the urge to fall to my knees and beg her to be with me.

“I look kind of ridiculous,” she said.

“You look cute,” I told her.

I didn’t want to stand here and exchange small talk. I wanted to get to the real question.

“So, Dagny, why exactly are you avoiding me?” I asked.

She wiggled around in the jacket uncomfortably.

“It’s my family. They told me I’m not allowed to see you.

They were upset about the whole kiss thing. It’s not you exactly.

They are just protective. They don’t want me dating,” she said.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason you’re avoiding me? It’s not because I’m a witch.”

“Well, there’s that too. My family doesn’t want me interacting with other witches,” she explained. “They don’t know you’re one but I’m supposed to avoid witches.”

“Do they like you interacting with anyone? How about puppies, are they off-limits too?”

“Probably. We don’t even have a cat. Witches should have cats, right?” she said. She picked at the buttons on the jacket.

“Anyway, we don’t get along with other witches. They don’t like us.”

“Why?” I knew the answer. I just wanted to see if she would tell me.

“I don’t know. We just don’t.”

That was a typical Dagny non-answer.

“So, then, why did you come here?” I asked.

Suddenly, she stepped back, making the distance between us wider.

“Because I have some questions,” she said, sternly.

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“Shoot. I’m an open book,” I said. Well, with a few pages torn out.

“When you did the seeker spell, were you trying to find me?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” I answered.

This was not the time to tell her I was a part of the Aradnian family that killed her Mom and was now trying to kill her and the rest of her family. That wasn’t the best way to start a relationship. I would tell her, eventually, when the time was right.

“I don’t know how it works for you exactly. I’m guessing because you’re 16 and you know about witches then you aren’t from the same tribe as me,” I said.

I already knew she wasn’t. Still, I had to play coy.

“I just learned about all of this when I turned seventeen about a week ago,” I explained. It was actually 8 days ago. “I have a sister. She’s not exactly an expert and my parents are no help either.

So I have to figure it out on my own.”

Did I just give away too much? Could she figure out I was an Aradnian from that piece of information?

Abruptly, she sat down on the ground. That seemed like a good sign. I sat down too.

“Anyway,” I continued. “I was curious if there were any other witches around. So, I started my search with school.”

That was pretty close to the truth.

“OK, well, look,” she said. “We had some fun in Vegas.”

Some fun? Ouch. I would have said it was amazing, incredible fun.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I said, shrugging.

“I’m not supposed to hang out with witches, though. I came here to explain that to you and tell you to leave me alone,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s why you came here,” I responded, boldly.

She felt the connection between us. We pulsed with the energy of inevitability, like two planetary bodies caught in each other’s gravity and destined to collide. It was just a matter of time.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she said.

“No, I’m pretty sure of us. I don’t want to leave you alone. I want to see you again.”

She picked a blade of grass from the ground.

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“I don’t know. Maybe,” she said. She spun the blade between her fingers.

“Tomorrow night? Meet me one more time. It won’t be the end of the world if we just talk, right?” I bargained.

“Just talk?” she said. “Normal stuff only, no witch stuff.”

Finally, I was getting somewhere.

“Yes, we’ll talk about anything you want. We can even try it now,” I said, hoping to draw out the night a little longer. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. What do you like to do? What makes you happy?” she suggested.

“You,” I responded quickly.

“Before me,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a teenager, does anything make me happy?”

She laughed a little.

“Actually, I think so. It’s one of the reasons I like you.”

“You like me, huh?” I goaded.

“Shut up, answer the question.”

“OK, OK,” I said. This answer required some sincere thought. “I like music and basketball. You know that already. I like books, especially comic books. I actually wrote and illustrated one, just for fun.”

“Wow,” she said in awe. I wasn’t trying to impress her. But I’d take it.

“It’s just a comic,” I said, dismissively.

“Can I read it some time?”

“Maybe,” I said slyly. “If you’re nice to me.”

She yawned and stretched. The sky started to change from gray to red on the horizon. Dawn was coming fast.

“I’ll drive you home,” I said.

I stood and offered her my hand. She took it and looked at me seriously.

“Marc, we have to keep this a secret. Our families can’t know,” she said.

“OK,” I said. I didn’t want my family to find out either.

“Does that mean I can see you again?” I asked, hopefully.

“In secret,” she agreed.

“So, tomorrow night?”

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Chapter 14

Jason “It’s still blank?”

“Yes,” Ava said.

Ava’s eyes were bloodshot. She sat on the edge of her tidy bed. She still wore the gray skirt and blouse she wore to Lily’s party.

The tarot cards were stacked neatly on her bedside table. She tapped them with her index finger.

She performed the tarot reading on Marc repeatedly. The last card was blank every time and she did not see any visions or flashes.

She stayed up all night trying to read him.

Now it was morning.

“Are you OK?” I asked her. She looked weary.

“I’m fine,” she said. She reached over and fluffed one of her pink, floral pillowcases.

My father leaned against Ava’s door. His left hand supported his chin. He looked up at the ceiling.

“So, what do you think it means?” I asked.

“Maybe it means he’s going to die,” Ava said.

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“I’d be fine with that,” I said.

“It means he’s a witch,” Dad said.

“A witch? How do you know?” Ava asked.

She brushed her long hair back from her face. She almost never wore her hair down.

“No human would have a reading like that. There is no other explanation,” he said.

“I knew there was something wrong with him,” I mumbled.

Anger welled inside of me. A boy interested in Dagny was bad enough. A boy witch was a serious problem.

Stay calm, Ava whispered in my head.

“I’m calm,” I snapped.

“How do we figure it out for sure?” Dad said. He was familiar with hearing only one side of the conversation, Ava butted into his brain too.

“What about the aura spell? Ava, you could cast it on me, it’s an air spell. Then, we can drive to his house and watch from the car.

I know it’s Saturday but he has to leave his house at some point. If his aura is dull, we’ll know he’s a human. If it’s brighter, we’ll know he’s a witch,” I suggested.

“That is a good idea. However, we need to be careful and ensure he does not see us,” he said.

“There are some candles under my bed. Light five of them and put them in a circle,” Ava commanded. “We need to hurry and do this before Dagny gets up.”

I retrieved the candles and waved my hand over the tops to ignite the flames.

“Sit in the circle,” Ava said to me.

I complied.

She sat down in front of me. She breathed in and out slowly.

The air started to move and whip. Tiny white particles materialized in the space between us. They looked like pieces of sand floating in the air. More appeared until the air was thick with them.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

I closed my eyes. I heard her take a breath and blow. Dust scattered across my face. Ava took her fingers and gently brushed it away.

“Open your eyes,” she instructed.

I blinked. Everything was fuzzy.

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“Give yourself a minute to adjust,” Ava said.

I looked around slowly. Instead of being solid, everything was just energy. Even the furniture glowed, not with a human or witch aura, it had its own energy.

Ava was a bright cloud. She had a vaguely human form. Her color was distinct. It was a sharp blue.

I was no stranger to seeing auras, especially Wiccan ones.

We saw them when we Traveled. But I’d never seen the entire world as only auras before.

“OK, let’s go,” Ava said.

“I’ll drive,” Dad offered. His aura was deep and some sort of brown color.

I took a step forward and bumped into a wall. It was hard to tell what was solid and what was not.

Ava took my hand and led me to the car.

Marc I stretched and rolled over in bed. I got home as the sun was coming up. Now it was late morning and I had things to do. I jumped up, dressed quickly and jogged downstairs.

Jillian was drinking coffee at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, Jill,” I said, flashing a wide grin.

“Oh God, what made you so perky this morning? Kill me now,” she said.

I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, just to annoy her.

She jerked away. Jillian’s sour attitude couldn’t ruin my mood. My skin still tingled from being near Dagny.

“You want some breakfast?” I asked.

“It’s almost 11,” she answered.

“So, you want lunch?”

“I’ll take some eggs,” she grumbled.

I popped open the fridge and was happy to see the eggs I bought were not all gone. I heated up a skillet and dropped four eggs in the pan. They sizzled.

“Could you please stop whistling,” Jillian said.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

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I was thinking about Dagny—the way her hair whipped in the wind, how she bit her lip when she was uncomfortable. I’d see her again tonight. At the thought, the energy inside me flared.

I slid the eggs onto two plates, cut up some fruit and grabbed two slices of bread. Then, I sat down with Jillian at the table and put one plate in front of her.

“So how are you doing?” I said. I broke open one of the yolks. “You have lots of Wiccan fun with Mom and Benjamin last night? Manage to not kill anyone?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, defensively.

“I was just kidding around. Sorry.”

Jillian wouldn’t look me in the eye.

“Jillian, is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” she said. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“What did you do last night?” I probed.

“Hung out in my room. Listened to music, same old stuff.”

She was hiding something. Benjamin and Mom were out to kill Dagny and her family. Was Jillian helping them? Our parents thought Possessors were things, not people and it was kill or be killed. Fear might push Jillian to help them.

But Dagny wasn’t a thing. Dagny was beautiful and charming. There was another side to this story, the Possessor side. It was time to find it out. I had to tell Dagny I was an Aradnian and I knew she was a Possessor.

Before I could tell Dagny any of these secrets, I had to figure out how to stop my family from harming her.

There was one possibility I’d been thinking about for a while now.

I needed some things from outside.

Dagny I woke with a start, my heart pounding. The dream pulsed in my brain. It was a version of the memory of my mother, the one by the pond.

She was standing in the water, calling to me. She looked different than in the memory. I’d never seen this face on her before.

Still, I knew it was her. Her familiar green eyes glowed brightly. She 154

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wore a long puffy skirt and a bodice, like she was back in the 1600s.

I could also see through her. She was a ghost.

She was trying to talk to me, warn me. But I couldn’t hear her and I couldn’t get closer. My feet were stuck in the ground. I screamed to her.

Then, I woke up.

I felt uneasy. It wasn’t unusual to have restless nights in new bodies. Normal people sometimes wake up and for a moment they don’t remember where they are. We wake up and sometimes don’t remember who we are.

This feeling was more than normal Traveling confusion, though. The dream bothered me.

The room was bright. It was late. I looked at the clock. It was almost noon. No one woke me up.

It was Saturday. Still, they never let me sleep this late, even on weekends. Ava lived and died by her schedule and made the rest of us do the same. We should have eaten breakfast by now and moved on to reading in the living room or playing a game of chess.

Where was my family? Did I forget they were going somewhere this morning?

I jumped out of bed to investigate.

Jason We parked far down the road so Marc wouldn’t see us. We’d been waiting for hours. The spell was starting to fade. The auras were becoming duller.

Finally, the front door swung open suddenly. Marc stepped out. He burst into my vision like fireworks. His aura was so bright it nearly blinded me.

“There he is, Jason.” Ava pointed at Marc’s house. “On the front stoop.”

“Is he a witch?” Dad asked.

“Yes,” I said. It came out as a hiss. “His aura is bright, brighter than yours or Ava’s.”

“Are you saying he’s a Traveler?” Ava asked, confused.

“It’s brighter than any aura I’ve ever seen, even Travelers.

He must have massive power.”

“Dad, what does that mean?” Ava said.

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“I don’t know.”

It meant Marc was very dangerous. Kissing Dagny was no random act. A witch with that kind of power wanted something. He either wanted to kill her or control her power. We had to make sure he never went near Dagny again.

There was a knot of anger inside me. It was always there, waiting to be unleashed. At this moment, my hold on it loosened.

“We should Travel, immediately,” I said, grinding my teeth.

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Chapter 15

Marc Jillian was still in the kitchen when I came back inside, the dirty breakfast plate in front of her. She flipped through a magazine.

I closed the front door quietly with my left hand and balanced my armful of twigs and a bucket of water in my right.

On most days Jillian paid no attention to anyone. Still, I moved quietly. I didn’t want Jillian or my parents to ask what I was doing.

I crept past my sister, hugging the wall and making sure to hide behind as much furniture as possible.

She never looked up.

When I reached my room, I gently closed the door and shoved the branches under the bed. Then, I went to see if my parents were home. Most Saturdays they went out to lunch.

I knocked on their door. There was no answer. Quietly, I turned the handle. The bed was made and the room looked empty. I tiptoed inside.

I only needed a small token, something they wouldn’t miss. I opened the top drawer of the long oak dresser. It was filled with 157

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men’s socks. They were all similar black dress socks. This would work. No one would notice a missing sock.

Lotions and ointments cluttered the top of the dresser. A mirror just above doubled the rainbow colored collection of bottles.

It reminded me of a candy store. I doubted my mother kept track of them all. I noticed a small perfume bottle tucked back at the edge of the dresser. It was covered in dust. She probably hadn’t used it in a long time. I grabbed it and hurried out of the room.

I pulled the twigs from under the bed and got out my backpack filled with herbs and plants. First, I sprinkled in a mixture of dried agrimonia, knotweed and something called spider wort into the water. Lucky for me, the herbs were meticulously labeled.

Next, I mixed the weird concoction using one of the larger twigs. Then, I dropped in three large rocks I found outside in the yard. They made a loud plunk and sank quickly to the bottom. I placed the rest of the twigs in the bucket and swirled them around with my hand.

After a few minutes, I removed a few of the twigs. They were now easy to bend, like rope. This was how the book said it should happen. I was doing something right.

There were several different spells for binding powers. They ranged from partial to complete binding. For complete binding there had to be a circle of witches. I was only one witch. So that wasn’t an option. I settled on a partial binding spell. It was complex and the more complex the ritual, the more powerful the spell. This also meant a more powerful witch was needed to make the spell work. I hoped I was strong enough.

I took the sock and the perfume bottle, the book called these totems, and wrapped the twigs around them. The tighter the twigs, the more the power would be bound. When I was done, I put the totems back in the bucket of water and added pinches of snapdragon, plant wax and witch hazel. It was like making a strange soup.

Again, I stirred it with my hand. I imagined my parents’ power was inside a box and around the box I wound layers and layers of rope and tape. As I imagined their power being wrapped tighter and tighter, I stirred the water faster. It started to steam and bubble. I took out my hand and the liquid continued to swirl on its own. Soon it boiled and frothed up to the top rim of the bucket.

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Suddenly, the floor started to shake. The house rumbled and quaked. That was not supposed to happen.

“Marc? Marc?” Jillian screamed from downstairs.

Jason “Why wouldn’t we Travel?” I demanded. It was the obvious strategic move. Marc was a powerful witch. He showed a clear interest in Dagny. That was more than enough reason.

I fumed. My grip on my anger loosened further.

My father pressed the brake and rolled to a stop at an intersection. He cautiously looked left and right. Then he moved the car forward.

“We cannot be hasty,” he said. “Begin the planning process for Traveling. If you find a suitable family or situation, bring it to my attention. First, I would like Ava to perform more tarot readings, perhaps try a future vision spell as well. Without your mother’s connection to the spirits to guide us out of danger, we will have to use other means.”

“I think Dad’s right, Jason,” Ava said. “Traveling could be what gets Dagny hurt or killed. Remember they can attack us right when we set the Travel spell into motion. If they kill our bodies just before we Travel we are gone forever, like Mom and Cassie. We need to find out more about this Marc kid first. Who is he? What kind of witch is he? Why is he so powerful?”

I didn’t agree. But I was not a high enough ranking member to sway them.

Dad slowly turned left onto our street.

“We will be on the ready to Travel at any moment. Before we take this step, let us look into Marc further to see if we can find out his lineage and determine if he is a threat.”

“Oh he’s a threat,” I said.

Enough, Ava said to me.

I huffed and folded my arms.

“I don’t think we should tell Dagny what we found,” Ava said.

“Hmmm, yes,” Dad mumbled, thoughtfully. “I hate to keep anything more from her. However, she may try to figure out what he is on her own. That would be a risk.”

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On this point, I agreed. Dagny was headstrong. She didn’t think things through. She might directly confront Marc. That could be very dangerous, like a child playing with a loaded gun.

“Great, we are in agreement. We won’t tell her,” Ava said.

We pulled into the driveway. The front door flew open.

Dagny stomped out in her pajamas.

“Where have you guys been? What have you been doing?” she said, angrily.

Jillian I was minding my own business, having a perfectly fine, witch-free day, when all of a sudden it started. The glasses tingled, the plates clattered and the ground rocked. For a split second I thought it was an earthquake. But we live in Virginia, which has only had one earthquake that I can remember. It did nothing except tip over a few lawn chairs. There was no way it was an earthquake.

It was magic.

“Marc? Marc?” I screamed.

The shaking intensified. The picture of a coffee mug, which hung above the kitchen table, rocked back and forth on its hook and then tumbled to the floor. I sprinted upstairs and banged on Marc’s door.

“What the hell is going on?”

I tried to open the door, the handle turned. I pushed. It wouldn’t open. He’d sealed it magically. I banged again.

“Marc, open the door,” I yelled.

The floor was suddenly still. A second later the door creaked open and Marc stuck his face out.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I was trying a new spell and got a little carried away.”

“What kind of spell?” I said, barging in. Looking around I didn’t notice any candles or any other indication of a spell. He had cleaned up quickly. He wanted to hide it from me.

“It was just a transformation spell. I was trying to change a book into a hammer. Listen, Jill, thanks for stopping by,” he said, ushering me toward the door. “I have a thing to do today, though. So I need to get ready.”

“What thing?”

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“Just a thing with Cody,” he said.

He pushed me out the door and shut it behind me. The lock clicked.

He was up to something. I didn’t want to care. Of course, now that I knew he was some all-powerful witch I had to care. Ugh, I think I had to tell Mom and Benjamin. This was the worst.

Dagny I tiptoed through the hallway. It was quiet. I pressed my ear against Jason’s door and heard a loud, long snore. It was easy to tell when he was asleep. Next, I checked on Ava. I laid my palm on the surface of her door and slowly moved it in a circle motion. A small transparent hole formed, like a porthole. I peered through into her room. Ava was lying in her bed. I could just make out the rise and fall of her chest. That was two. Dad’s door was cracked, I only had to inch it open to see he was also asleep. It was time to go.

I refused to feel bad about sneaking out. Why should I? They weren’t being honest with me either. They went out this morning without telling me and came home looking guilty. They said they just went out for brunch. I didn’t believe it. They never went out to brunch. Ava didn’t even acknowledge it as an actual meal. They were up to something.

I crept back to my room. I opened the window to let in a breeze and then called on the element of air. I tried not to think about how I was disobeying my father by using magic. He couldn’t seriously think it was possible to stop completely?

The cool wind from outside entered my lungs and filled my body. It was cold and refreshing. Silently, I told the air to take me to the path. Like a rubber band stretched out and then let go, I stretched across the sky to the path and then snapped back together. It took only an instant.

It was very dark outside. But the moon shone brightly. It provided enough light to help me find my way to the area where Marc and I met the night before.

I shivered, not just from the cold. I vibrated with anticipation. This was dangerous. I had to be careful. It was critical to keep things platonic and Wiccan-free. If I couldn’t seem to stay 161

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away from him, at least I could stay away from the Wiccan parts of him.

A dark form walked casually down the trail. The tall, lean body looked like a ghost walking in the forest. The dream of my mother suddenly tapped at the edges of my mind and fluttered away.

He was carrying a large blanket and a jacket. I realized I forgot to bring a coat again.

“Hi there,” he said as he got closer. He spread out the blanket on the ground and pulled the coat around my shoulders. “That one should fit better. It’s my sister’s. You know a scarf is not the same thing as a coat, right? Do you actually own a coat?”

I tugged on my striped scarf, which I wore almost every day.

“Yes,” I said. “I have a very large, very puffy coat that makes me look like a very warm marshmallow. I just keep forgetting it. I’m kind of forgetful in general. I lose things a lot, stuff like that.”

“I sort of figured that out on the plane when you kept looking for your gum,” he said.

I lowered myself to the ground and crossed my legs. He sat down next to me. Our knees were nearly touching. My stomach flipped.

“Did you have fun at Lily’s party?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I helped her clean up today. Teenagers are messy. Someone even threw up in the hall closet. I’m not sure she’ll have another party anytime soon.”

“That’s gross,” he said. “Cody had a lot of fun. I think he likes Brooke.”

“What’s not to like? She’s pretty great. Oh, she said you know her brother?”

Marc’s face drooped.

“What? Is there something wrong with him? Brooke definitely doesn’t like him. Does he kick puppies or something?’

“Only Chihuahuas but no one likes those things anyway,” he said, playfully.

I giggled and leaned back on my elbows, then extended my legs. He stretched out next to me on his side with his hand propping up his head. It was so easy to be comfortable with him. I felt relaxed, like I was meant to be here, in this body, with him. I pushed the thought away. It was too intimate. We had to keep this casual.

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“Nathan’s a good guy, or he was. We were on the basketball team together last year. Then over the summer he disappeared. He went away to some fancy boarding school. He never said bye. It was kinda weird.”

“It sounds very mysterious,” I said. “Do you know if he’s even still alive for sure? I think you should investigate.”

“I didn’t think of that. You may be onto something. I’ll go get my magnifying glass and start sleuthing,” he said, in a very serious tone.

We both burst out laughing. Our hands touched and my body again vibrated uncontrollably.

He reached up and put his fingertips on my cheek.

“Dagny, can I kiss you?” he asked. It was barely a whisper.

“No,” I said.

His face wilted with disappointment. My stomach sank.

Without thinking I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back slowly and tenderly. My chest tightened. I pulled away.

“It’s getting late,” I said. “I’m tired.”

“OK, I’ll drive you home.”

We stood up. He started gathering the blanket.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” he asked.

I wanted to see him every second of every day. If that happened, there would be more of the excitement and emotion I felt tonight and definitely more kissing. I had to stop this but I couldn’t.

I could only slow it.

“It’s almost morning,” I said. “Tomorrow night is a school night. I don’t think I can stay out late like this and get up early for school. My family might get suspicious if I’m tired all the time.

They can’t find out about our…” I paused to find the right word, “friendship.”

“Friendship?” he said. He looked offended. “Dagny, we’re not friends. I love you.”

I froze. I wasn’t sure what to say. I felt something for him, more than something. When I was around him all the cracks and fissures that kept me from being a whole person filled in. It was the closest I’d come to feeling complete. Was that love?

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Marc Dagny didn’t move for several seconds.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That just came out. I know you might not feel the same way. I had to tell you anyway.”

“I, um…” Dagny stammered. “I can’t, I don’t know.”

“It’s OK,” I said.

I told her my true feelings too soon. This wasn’t good.

“No,” she said. “What I’m trying to say is I think I do too.”

My body sparked with excitement. Electricity crackled on my skin like a million tiny hot pinpricks. Did she just say she loved me too?

It was time. I had to tell her about me now. She said she loved me. I couldn’t lie to her anymore about who I was.

“I told you, though,” she said, her voice becoming serious.

“My family doesn’t even know you’re a witch and they still don’t want me to see you. If they found out…”

“They won’t find out,” I promised. “But now that you know I love you, I have to tell you something.” I paused. My temples started to sweat. What if this was a mistake?

“What is it?” she asked.

“I, um…” I had to just say it. “I am an Aradnian and I know you’re a Possessor. I’ve known since I kissed you.”

Dagny’s face slowly changed from content to terrified, like I’d just ripped off my mask and showed her a horrible creature underneath.

“Possessor?” she said, confused.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly. “You have a different name for when you move your soul to another body?”

She didn’t say anything more. Instead she sprinted toward the road.

“Dagny wait,” I yelled. OK, maybe this was the wrong time to tell her.

I chased after her. She was fast. She barreled down the path.

Once she reached the road she stopped and looked left to right frantically. I was just a few steps behind.

“Dagny, please, let’s talk about this. I’m not going to hurt you.”

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She glanced back at me. Her eyes shone with terror in the moonlight. She jumped off the curb and onto the street. Her leg twisted to the side and buckled. She screamed and fell into the road.

“Dagny,” I yelled.

I slowed when I reached her and tentatively walked closer.

She tried to stand and fell back down. Her foot bent at an unnatural angle. The ankle was definitely broken.

“Get away from me,” she screamed.

She sat next to a large pothole. She must have stepped in it.

It was nearly invisible in the darkness.

I crouched down next to her and she pushed me away.

“Let me look,” I said.

“Get away from me,” she repeated. Tears streamed down her face.

I touched the ankle and she winced.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” I said.

“No. My family will know I snuck out.”

I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I lifted her up in my arms.

“Stop it,” she said, hitting me on the shoulder. “I can heal it.”

“What?”

Gently, I laid her down on the grassy area beside the road.

“I can heal it,” she said, again.

She closed her eyes and pressed her shoulders back to sit up straight. The wind whipped and whined. The air thickened with moisture. The trees swayed angrily, as though a large tropical storm was brewing. Below us the earth grew hot.

“You need to snap my ankle bone back in place,” she said.

Dagny’s hair lashed at her face.

I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t a doctor. I might hurt her more.

“Do it,” she commanded.

I grabbed her foot and thrust it back in place. Dagny screamed in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried.

She breathed heavily. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She held her ankle tight between her palms. Her body glowed in the darkness like a distant star.

The wind howled and thrashed. The limbs of the trees bent and creaked as though they were on the verge of breaking. Thunder rolled in the distance. Lightening flashed through the sky.

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Dagny let go of her ankle and the world was suddenly still.

She circled her ankle slowly to test it. I took her elbow and helped her to her feet. She took a few light steps. I stayed close.

“It’s fine now,” she said.

“How’d you do that?” I asked.

“What do you mean how’d I do that? I used magic,” she said.

She held up her palms protectively and backed away from me.

“Dagny, if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it while you were on the ground in pain,” I said. “I’m an Aradnian and you’re a Possessor. But I’m not trying to kill you.”

“How do you know what I am?” She backed away further.

She was ready to run. The fact that I found her because my parents killed her mother might send her not just running but leaving for good. I’d told her enough of the truth for today. Now, I needed a convincing lie. There was a spell in the Libri Dea called a reveal spell. It might work.

“I did a spell after the seeker spell, after we kissed, a reveal spell. It told me you were a Possessor,” I said.

“Traveler,” she said. “We call it Traveling. How did it tell you that? A reveal spell can tell you where someone is or how they’re feeling but not what they are.”

“It can also reveal age and it showed me you are much older than 16,” I said, quickly adapting and hoping she would believe the lie. “I assumed it meant you were a Possessor, I mean a Traveler.”

She stopped but her palms were still raised.

“Can you put your hands down now? Can we talk?”

Dagny This is exactly what I didn’t want to know. I wanted to pretend we were normal humans. That was impossible now.

The fact he was a witch was bad enough. The fact that he was an Aradnian made it worse. We were on opposing sides.

Opposites. Cold/Hot. Yes/No. Good/Bad. Black/White. There was gray, right?

“Please, Dagny, can we just talk about this?” he said, again.

His gray-blue eyes glowed like the moon. His eyebrows bunched over them, pleading.

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I should run. I tried to run. Then, I stepped in that stupid pothole.

My palms were still raised. I had enough magical juice left from the healing spell to send out a burst of energy that could knock him out. Then, I would have time to focus and stretch like a rubber band back to my house.

“Please,” he said one more time. “When I said I love you, I meant it.”

He sounded so sincere. I lowered my palms.

“Let’s go back down the path, OK?” he said, motioning to the houses across the street. “Just in case. We don’t want anyone to see us.”

He took my hand and my heart started to beat quickly again, just from his touch.

“So how did you heal yourself like that?” he asked.

The ground was slippery. Even though my ankle was technically healed, it still felt unstable. I walked carefully.

“The same way you healed yourself when you had that motorcycle accident,” I told him. Wasn’t it obvious? He clearly had the ability even before he had his powers.

“I didn’t heal myself,” he said.

We reached our spot on the path. The blanket was still on the ground.

“Sure you did. I even remember worrying you were a witch at the time because you healed so fast. I should have trusted my instincts I guess,” I said.

“I’m glad you didn’t. But I didn’t even have powers then.”

“I don’t know much about Aradnians,” I said. My ankle was still sore. I wanted to sit down. But, if I needed to run again, it was better if I was standing. “I don’t know much about any other type of Wicca except ours. Maybe you have latent power or something. You definitely healed yourself, though. Didn’t your doctor even say something about how fast it was?”

“Yeah, he did. Even so, I haven’t seen anything in our book about self-healing.”

“It’s hard. It takes a lot of power,” I explained.

“I guessed that from the small hurricane you almost started,” he said. “So what we practice may be different? Tell me about Dionician magic and Traveling magic. Are they the same?”

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I was still suspicious of his motives.

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“That thing where you don’t actually answer a question. I’m just curious. I want to know about your magic. Our book tells us to hate you. I’m not someone who just follows whatever a book tells me. I want to know your side of things.”

I sighed. It was impossible to be angry with him. Sincerity flowed off him in waves. I dropped down onto the blanket. He followed.

“Fine. Travelers are Dionicians. But only very powerful Dionicians can Travel. When we Travel, our powers become stronger.”

“You also become even stronger when you Travel into the bodies of other witches, right?” he said.

This must be from this book he kept talking about. What else did it say about us?

“So I’ve heard. I’ve never Traveled into a body of another witch. I only Travel into the bodies of dead humans.”

“Wait, what?” he said. He cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve been told Travelers are terrible and kill people. But I don’t,” I said.

“I never thought you were terrible,” he said. He inched closer. “Your family has never Traveled into a person that was alive?”

“My parents did before they knew better. They only Traveled into bodies that were dying, though. Eventually, that’s how they figured out we could heal dead bodies and bring them back to life.”

“So, you heal the bodies?”

“Yeah, normal humans don’t have magical powers. They can’t fix a broken bone without a doctor and time. Witches can, if you know what to do.”

“So, you call on the elements to heal. You do that for all of your magic?”

I nodded.

“We do that too,” he said. He looked off at the trees, processing. If he was a computer, right now he would be a spinning 168

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circle, thinking, waiting for the information to catch. “You didn’t use a candle or anything. Your magic must be different.”

“I just don’t need that stuff,” I said, cautiously. We were getting into dangerous territory.

“So, Travelers are so powerful they can just call the elements without spells?”

“Sometimes. But they still need them for more difficult things.”

“They need them?”

He was so perceptive. It would be my downfall.

“Yes, they need them. I don’t.” I shut my lips tight. I shouldn’t tell him I was different from other Travelers. He might be playing me. This could be exactly what he wanted to know so he could figure out my strengths and weaknesses.

“Why are you different?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered, honestly.

“How does it work for you then?”

“Similar to you,” I said. “I call on the elements.”

“No, I want to really understand. Give me more detail. I want to see if we are really that different.”

His eyes were so earnest. It felt as though he truly wanted to understand me and my magic. It didn’t feel like a trick.

I sighed.

“Alright. Well, for us, it’s like that comic book you said was your favorite—The Elementals. It’s no wonder you were drawn to it.

The characters manipulate the elements, right?”

He nodded. His face seemed to gain a sense of revere. It made me slightly uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to being looked at like that.

“OK, well, when Travelers create a spell, we do it by using one of the elements or a concept they represent. Fire is heat and light, that’s power. It’s used for spells involving strength.”

Involuntarily, I paused. For some reason I didn’t need to search the recesses of my brain for the explanations. Around him information just flowed freely and easily from my mind. There were no blocks.

His eyes urged me to continue.

“Earth, on the other hand, is a grounding element. It’s also how we stay connected to nature. Many spells use herbs, for 169

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example. They represent earth. The circle is another one. The third element, air, is life. Oxygen is essential for all life. Therefore, air represents all living creatures. Wind often is the manifestation of the air element. Spells using air have to do with knowledge, visions of the future, stuff like that. The element of water represents change and growth. It can also be used to connect to other realms, such as the spirit realm. Like fire, it’s volatile. It is always changing and moving. Is this the same as your magic?”

“It sounds like it so far,” he said. “I like listening to you talk about it.”

He looked at me in a way that made me shake with desire. I looked away.

“I sound like I’m reciting a boring encyclopedia,” I said.

“It’s not boring,” he said. Then, a grin stretched across his face. “You should start a website and call it Wiccapedia.”

“Yeah right, we’re too secretive for that,” I said.

“Too bad,” he said. “Anyway, keep going.”

“The more elements you use together, the more powerful the spell. You have to be careful because nature responds to the use of power by showing its own power,” I continued.

“Like the thunder and lightning you caused?” he said.

“Yeah, like that. Not every object in the world represents only one element. Some objects are made up of multiple elements.

Those objects are the most potent. Of everything that exists in the world, only blood combines all four. It’s hot like fire and contains the energy to run the body. It’s like 99% water.”

“Actually, blood plasma is 92% water,” he said.

“Thanks for the biology lesson.” I said, in a snarky tone, instant guilt followed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Please, continue.”

“Well, it moves oxygen through your body. It’s also organic matter, thus representing earth. Does your book talk about blood magic?”

“Only to say it is strictly forbidden. It says it comes at too high of a price. Is that how we’re different? Do you use blood magic?”

“No, I don’t need blood magic.”

“How do you do it then? At least tell me how you healed your foot,” he said.

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“Fine,” I said with a huff. “I connected to the elements, all of them. For healing you need all four. I used my mind and body to create a point where they could plug in together, like an outlet. Then, when they were all united inside me, I imagined the bone healing. I thought about the cells merging and the bone straightening. It’s really just about willing the elements to work for you.”

“So you imagine something and it can happen,” he said, with awe.

“Sort of. I can’t make just anything happen. I can’t turn back time or make a dog talk. It has to be, you know, within the boundaries of nature.”

The houses in the distance glowed red from the sunrise.

“Marc, I really need to go,” I said. “My Dad will be awake soon. He gets up early.”

“OK, I still want to know more about you. I want to know everything,” he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. He looked at me deeply. “I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think you’re evil and need to be destroyed.”

I gulped down my desire.

“Maybe I’m afraid of you.”

“You’re just afraid of your feelings for me,” he said.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” I said. It came out as a hoarse whisper.

I took a jagged breath. It did nothing to settle the quivering in my body. The place where his hand touched me throbbed with heat.

“I told you before, I’m sure of us,” he whispered into my ear.

“So, I’ll see you again on Friday?”

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Chapter 16

Jillian “Jillian,” Benjamin bellowed. Great, what did I do now?

Why was I such a disappointment to everyone? “Come to my study.”

“I have to get to school,” I yelled back.

“You can be late.”

I couldn’t use Marc as an excuse. He left already. He wanted to walk again. He did that a lot more now. Good, maybe he’d jump out in front of a car again and actually get hit this time. I didn’t mean that, not really. I just wanted to be rid of the burden of this secret. I wanted to go back to not giving a crap.

I walked over to the study, which was really a glorified closet with a thick wooden desk that was too big for the room and a shelf stuffed with books.

“What?” I said.

My mother was standing next to him. She wore a long pink silk robe with lace at the edges. Her hair was pulled up into tight rollers that stretched her skin back.

“What did you tell Marc?” Benjamin said, accusingly.

“About what?”

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“About what I told you,” Benjamin said. His voice was even, too even, as though he was working extra hard to control it.

“Nothing,” I answered, defensively.

“You’d better not be lying. I trusted you.”

“Jill,” Mom said. She hadn’t called me Jill since I was a little girl. Back when she still hoped I would be a lady someday instead of a black clothes, dark make-up wearing freak. “Sweetie, you can tell us the truth. It’s OK.” She glared down at Benjamin. His face was tight with anger.

“Why do you think I told him something?”

“Because, over the weekend, someone bound our powers. I assume it was your brother,” Benjamin said. “And he did a damn good job of it. I’ve spent all night trying to undo it.”

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“We thought you told him about the prophecy and how we would have to destroy him if we couldn’t destroy the girl.”

“I didn’t tell him,” I exclaimed. “I’m done with this whole thing. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

Emotion I didn’t think I had in me welled up to the surface. I was sick of this. I was sick of Wicca. I was sick of them. I was sick of Marc. I just wanted to be left alone.

“You’re not done with anything,” Benjamin said.

Dagny My hair whipped around me as though it was made of angry snakes. Lily’s loose ponytail fell out of its band, causing her thick curls to stick in her lip gloss. Ava glided beside us through the parking lot, impervious to the wind.

“Dagny,” Ava said, training her eyes on me. “I told you to put your hair in a ponytail. It’s all knotted up now. It looks like a rat’s nest.”

Great, now she’s calling me a rat. I guess it was better than a pig. I got that one a lot too. She was not a fan of my eating habits.

Ava’s kitten heels clicked pertly against the asphalt, signaling her irritation. With her hair pulled into a high bun, her blouse buttoned up to her neck, and a neat stack of books in the crook of her arm, she looked straight out of the 1950s. Looks were definitely deceiving.

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For the entire walk from the school to the track around the football field where we practiced, Ava bemoaned any number of my terrible offenses. My shirt wasn’t tucked in. I shouldn’t make that face. I was wearing too much eye shadow. I should wear a lighter shade of lipstick. Blah blah blah. Ava needed to focus on someone other than me. She needed to get a life. But she didn’t know how to get a life. She didn’t even know how to get a personality. She just organized, controlled and manipulated, usually in that order.

“Look at her, she constantly tries to control everything I do,” I complained quietly to Brooke.

“Darth Ava,” Brooke whispered.

“No, she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing all black.”

“Star Wars jokes from two cheerleaders. Somewhere a nerd just got his wings,” Brooke chuckled.

“Let’s pick up the pace girls,” said Ava. “We can’t start practice without the captain.”

We all walked faster.

“Can’t we practice inside?” I suggested. “Like in the gym?”

My fingers and toes were already freezing.

“You need to practice where you will actually be cheering. It will be much colder at night anyway. Get used to it,” Ava said.

Even though she wasn’t the coach, she sure acted like it.

“I think she’s right,” Lily agreed, not that she would dare disagree with my sister. “We have to be perfect for the Homecoming game.”

I never did remember Homecoming but I looked it up online endlessly. There was no one definition, each school did it differently.

I decided to pry Brooke subtly for more details. She was the only person who wouldn’t think I was an idiot for asking questions.

“So, at my last school we had this parade before the game.

Are we going to do that too?” I asked Brooke as we got closer to the field.

“Yep, we all pile into a truck and ride behind the floats. We get lectured about drinking and driving but they have no problem shoving a bunch of girls into the back of a pick-up without seatbelts,” Brooke observed.

“Then the dance is right after?” I asked, hoping I got the dance part right. I really wasn’t sure about that part.

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“That’s on Saturday night. Friday is the game and some parties. Then Saturday is the dance and some more parties. I’m sure Lily has our itineraries all planned out, not that I have a date or anything.”

“How is that possible?” Brooke was funny and beautiful.

Cody liked her. I was surprised he didn’t ask her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “My brother tells me I’m too honest. It’s intimidating.”

“Your brother’s a jerk,” I responded, reflexively.

She laughed.

“I think so too,” she said. “Are you going to go to the dance?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, I wanted to go. The problem was the only person I wanted to go with was supposed to be my sworn enemy.

Thankfully, we reached the track and Lily started barking orders. Brooke forgot about her question.

We dropped our bags and started to stretch. Brooke folded over artfully and pressed her face to her knees. She was the only sophomore to make the varsity cheerleading squad. It wasn’t surprising. She had the perfect balance of femininity and strength.

She jumped higher and more gracefully than any of the other cheerleaders. Her talents seemed limitless. She executed gymnastics flawlessly. She danced exquisitely. It was a shame to have her next to the rest of us. We looked like floundering hippos by comparison.

“Brooke, can you show everyone your split jump again?”

Lily requested. Then she turned to address the team. “Everyone, watch Brooke. Look at her form.”

Brooke took a small preparatory hop and then on her second jump flicked her feet up into the air and reached her arms toward her toes. She landed lightly.

“Did everyone see how Brooke pointed her toes and made that snap at the end of the jump? Karin, Jenny, Shara, you need to do that.”

Lily clapped her hands several times and pointed to the girls she just named. They started jumping.

Ava perched herself on bleachers with the Coach, taking notes in her head about my friends. Like Jason, she thought everyone was a potential threat.

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“Nice jump,” I said to Brooke.

“Thanks,” she responded with a shrug.

Brooke seemed disinterested in her superior abilities.

Although she showed up and performed, she never seemed like she wanted to be there. In general, Brooke was simply different from the other girls. She didn’t change her style or her manner of speaking just to follow Lily. She also had a flip phone, like me, which I appreciated more than she realized. Instead of trendy clothes, she usually wore torn, loose jeans and an old, faded t-shirt. She also liked to wear ring after ring of chunky, earthy bracelets. She had a unique ethereal style that made me wonder if individuality wasn’t actually dead.

After practice was over, Brooke and I stood by the chain-link fence.

“Lily was rough today,” I said as I poured water into my mouth.

“It’s your sister. She makes Lily nervous. She wants to impress her,” Brooke said.

“Why does everyone care what my brother and sister think of them?” I wondered.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Brooke said.

“I am…” I started to speak and couldn’t finish my sentence. I sensed him. He was close. I could feel his cool gray-blue eyes. They walked across my skin, tickling it with desire.

It had been almost two full days since we were together at the path. I saw him only in first period or when we caught glimpses of each other in the hallway. We’d lock eyes. My heart would rev up. He’d raise his eyebrows. I’d bite my lip. Then the crowds would engulf us and that was it.

“You what?” Brooke asked.

Marc sauntered out of the shadows and over to the fence.

“Hey, Marc,” Brooke called.

I panicked and looked at Ava. She was talking with Lily and the coach. She didn’t notice him yet.

Marc leaned up against the fence casually and crossed his ankles. I imagined him in the suit he wore in Vegas and my heart fluttered. I thought about him coming to my house and picking me up for Homecoming. I would be wearing the red fringe dress. I shook my head to get rid of the thought. It could never be. A normal 176

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existence was never going to happen for me, especially if I was dating another witch in secret.

“You remember Dagny? That girl you randomly kissed,” Brooke said, with a sly lift of the right side of her mouth.

“Oh, hey,” he said, glancing at me. “Right. I forgot all about that.”

He winked. My heart flipped.

“Hey,” I croaked.

“So, you wanted to give me something?” Marc said to Brooke.

“Yeah, sorry my text was cryptic. I know it seemed like you needed a decoder ring to figure it out.”

Brooke picked up her bag and pulled an envelope out. She handed it to Marc.

“Here you go. It’s weird to get an actual invitation to a party.

I guess I can appreciate that it’s meta. Anyway, Nathan said it’s some sort of guys-only party on Friday. I guess you’ll play poker and smoke cigars. The invitation has the address. He also told me to tell you he hopes you can stay awake for the whole party. He said to stress the word awake. That school really has made him weird.”

Marc’s face darkened. He didn’t like something about what Brooke said.

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Chapter 17

Dagny It was finally Friday. It felt like an eternity since Marc and I were alone together in the woods. Sure it was my idea to wait this long. I didn’t realize waiting would be so agonizing.

I tapped my foot in seventh period, anxiously. I just had to get through pre-game warm ups, an actual football game and waiting until my family fell asleep. Then, I’d get to see him again. This was the longest day ever.

The bell rang. I jumped out of my seat and rushed toward my locker. Even though I couldn’t speed up time, I felt like if I did everything faster, time would somehow move quicker.

The halls crowded as students left their classrooms and I was forced to slow down. A hand suddenly clamped around my bicep and yanked me to the side. My heart jumped. I stumbled through a doorway and into a small room.

“Marc? What are you doing?” I said.

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Marc quickly closed the door. We were in some sort of utility room. Mops, brooms and buckets accompanied the dank odor of cleanser.

“I needed to see you,” he said.

“You’re going to see me tonight.”

Even though I said this, I was thrilled to be near him again.

“I just couldn’t help myself.”

He leaned down and ran the back of his hand gently across my right cheek. I closed my eyes. He pressed his lips to mine. I flung my arms around him.

“What time will you be at the path?” he asked through kisses.

I pulled my mouth away only long enough to answer.

“Late, I have to wait for my family to go to sleep,” I said.

“I need to see you sooner.”

“I can’t get away sooner,” I said.

We were both breathing heavily. His hands held my face. I ran my fingers along his arm. My body buzzed.

“Can’t you figure out a way to come earlier so we have more time?” he said.

I stopped kissing him and looked away, searching my mind for a solution.

“I could tell them I’m sleeping at Brooke’s. I’d have to ask her to lie for me, though.”

“I don’t want you to ask your friends to lie for you,” he said.

“Brooke’s on my side. She thinks my family is too protective. She won’t mind.”

He leaned over again and gently kissed me.

“Then I’ll see you right after the game at the path,” he whispered in my ear.

His breath tickled. Goosebumps sprouted on my arms.

“You won’t be at the game?” I asked.

“No, I have to go to that weird party Nathan invited me to.

I’m not going to stay for long. I will be at the path before you.”

He cracked opened the door to the closet and peered outside.

“Coast is clear,” he whispered. “I’ll wait a minute until you’re down the hall. Then I’ll leave.”

I jumped up and planted a kiss on his mouth. Then I squeezed through the door.

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Marc I tilted my head back to see the entire mansion. It had red brick and black shuttered windows. Massive columns cut through the dark façade like bright white teeth. The porch light flickered eerily.

Part of me wanted to leave. I would rather be sitting in the bleachers watching Dagny cheer. The other part was curious, both about Nathan and about his cryptic invitation. It couldn’t just be a coincidence he asked Brooke to tell me he hoped I’d stay awake, a reference to my Awakening. If he wanted to get me here, it worked.

I pressed the buzzer for the doorbell and waited, half expecting Lurch to answer the door. Instead, I was greeted by a small woman with thick arms sporting a traditional maid’s uniform and a solemn expression.

“Second floor, second door on the left,” she instructed. “You can take the stairs or the elevator.”

Elevator? Seriously?

I stepped into the expansive entryway. A broad, imposing staircase cut into its side. Despite an impressive chandelier that reflected off a dark marble floor, the house was ominous. The walls were dark wood on the bottom and blood red wallpaper on top. The wallpaper was blistering and curling away from the wall at its seams.

The second door on the left was a tall, thick wood door with intricately carved inlays. I touched the doorknob just as it swung open.

“Nathan,” I said.

“Uh, hey Marc,” he responded, awkwardly.

Nathan had not changed much. He had the same sandy hair and complexion, just like his sister. They also shared a narrow face with a pointed chin and wide-set, large blue eyes. Brooke’s had more color and depth.

He was slightly taller than last I’d seen him and still skinny.

“Come in,” he said.

The walls inside the room were the same wood as in the rest of the house. Here they were lined from floor to ceiling with books.

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leapt straight out of hell. The whole room continued the theme of darkness. This place was weird.

Alone at the center of the room was a 3-foot tall, archaiclooking globe with a brass base.

“Hello, I’m Aiden,” a deep voice announced.

The greeting was attached to a tall blond teenager who stepped forward from the shadows. He had a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. His eyes were bright green. His skin was pale white. He had a dark red mouth that pulled back to reveal gleaming white teeth.

“Hey,” I said and looked around. The room was empty. “I thought this was a party. Am I early?”

“Come, sit,” Aiden commanded. “Other people will be here soon.”

Tentatively, I sat in one of four large leather chairs that were placed in a square formation.

“So, Marc,” Aiden began as he took a seat across from me.

“You’re a junior at one of the local public high schools?”

“I am,” I answered. Something told me I should reveal as little as possible to Aiden.

“When did you turn seventeen?” Aiden asked. He casually leaned back in his chair and crossed his left leg over his right so it made a large triangle.

“A few weeks ago.” It was an odd question to ask a stranger.

It made me think I was right about the invitation. This was not a regular party.

“Something happened to you on your birthday?” he asked.

I didn’t like where this was going.

“Yeah, I turned seventeen,” I answered, sarcastically.

“Yes, well,” Aiden began, revealing his teeth, which in the uneven light looked fanged. “You don’t strike me as someone who tolerates trivial conversation. Let me get right to it. I think on your seventeenth birthday you became a witch.”

I held my expression steady. My instincts were accurate.

They wanted to draw me here. Why? According to the Libri Dea and Benjamin, Travelers wanted to kill us. What if a Traveler took over Nathan’s body and that’s why he disappeared suddenly. I should leave, immediately.

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“I should probably go,” I said, keeping my voice steady and strong.

“No, stay, let me explain,” Aiden said.

It was approximately five feet to the door and another five to the top of the stairs. There were exactly twenty-seven steps and then another fifteen feet to the front door. I felt confident I could make it out in about twenty seconds. If he was a witch he might be able to block me.

There was no good plan here. Perhaps it was time to use the Hulk approach: smash now, worry about the ramifications later.

“I’ve had enough of this joke,” I said, rising quickly.

As I strode toward the door, I felt a rush of wind blow across my back. In the blink of an eye Aiden was blocking my way.

“Interesting you say this is a joke. Yet, you don’t seem surprised that I just moved ten feet in a matter of seconds.” Aiden’s green eyes burned.

I pushed past him. He put his hand on my shoulder.

Instinctively, rage coursed inside me without warning. I felt it leave my body and explode out of my arm without words or permission. It was like shooting lightening. Before I could stop the bolt, Aiden was lying on the remains of a table. I think I took that Hulk metaphor a little too literally. Quickly, I reached for the doorknob.

“Wait,” Aiden commanded.

He floated up from the wreckage effortlessly, as though invisible strings lifted him. He brushed debris off of his clothes.

“It’s a good thing I keep my little protection amulet on at all times,” he said.

From under this collared shirt, Aiden pulled out a necklace with a dark brown gem sitting on top of a flat silver disc.

Surrounding the gem was a marking I recognized. It was a symbol to repel magic, five triangles in a circle with their tips pouting outwards.

“It should have done a better job than that. Still, I’m unharmed,” he noted, looking at me as though I was lucky that was the case. “I think we can skip to the good part. We know you’re one of us. Now, don’t you want to know how we know?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He walked over to the large globe in the center of the room.

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“Almost every day at least one in our tribe awakens.” As Aiden explained, he spun the globe without touching it.

Tiny lights, like miniscule silver fireflies, appeared in the air.

The silver pinpoints swirled around the globe. When it came to a stop, they instantly touched down on a point on the map. Aiden placed his fingertip on one as though it were a small scrap of paper, lifting it off the globe.

“Each one of these tells us about a person who has just awakened. It helps us remain connected. We keep catalogues of all the witch lines, at least the ones in our tribe. When a new Aradnian awakens we catalogue and file it into the Occolta Atheneum. You may have read about it in the Libri Dea. It is a mystical storage house for information. If the Libri Dea is our bible, the Occolta Atheneum is our Vatican library.”

Aiden held up his finger. It glowed. “See here, Emanuel Lopez, Madrid, Spain, descendent of the Suarez and Flores lines.

Mother is Iliana from the Flores line. Father is Andre from the Suarez line. Emanuel’s Awakening was in fire. I can even see his face in my mind. He has dark brown eyes and hair. I could spot him anywhere. There is more but you get the idea. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“Does it also tell you that he likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain?” I said.

Aiden continued as though I had not spoken. “We learn this information and file it in the Atheneum. We log any future activity with the Church there also. You could see your own entry, if you can manage the spell. The Atheneum isn’t a physical library, as I’m sure you know. You can only access it using your mind. If you participate in the Aradnian Church, you can also access some of the deeper secret material,” he said, as though that should sound appealing.

I looked at Nathan.

“Does this mean you’re an Aradnian too?”

He nodded.

“And Brooke?” I asked.

“Yes, but you can’t tell her,” Nathan said, quickly. “She can’t know until she’s seventeen.”

Nathan looked at me pleadingly.

“I won’t tell Brooke or anyone else,” I said. “For the record, it’s a stupid rule.”

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“One of the reasons we reached out to you this way was because of your relationship with Nathan and Brooke,” Aiden said.

“With Nathan here, we thought you might be more receptive to participating in the Church.”

It might have been a smart move. But they sent the wrong person with Nathan. I didn’t want to be involved with anything having to do with this smug Aiden guy.

“Usually, we send a letter. In your case we thought it was better to reach out in person.”

He waited for me to ask why. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m sure you want to know why,” Aiden said. “It is partly because your bloodline is very strong. We’ve been trying to entice it back into the Church for quite some time. It’s also because you were born when an asteroid crossed between the sun and the moon.”

“Wait, are you talking about the prophecy?” I asked.

Aiden smiled eerily.

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Chapter 18

Jason Smoke from the candles burned in my lungs. I clutched the mullein leaves and cardinal bones tightly. A powdery residue of graphite circled my eyes.

For a fire spell I wouldn’t need all of these things. This was a vision spell, an air-based spell. It was a difficult spell and wasn’t my element. These two things worked against me. However, this was the first spell to come close to identifying the witches that killed my mother.

I’d been trying for days. I just couldn’t make it work completely. Why did I think tonight would be any different? So far it wasn’t. For some reason, I still tried it over and over since we returned from the football game. It was almost morning.

Ava was better at this type of spell. However, I couldn’t involve her yet. Her focus needed to stay on Dagny. This was my burden for the time being.

The flashes of visions knocked around in my head. I was trying to use Cassie’s death as an anchor. Then move forward in time to find the witches that were after us today.

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First, the spell dragged me back through time. It stopped abruptly at a vision of Cassie’s body limp on the ground. I was with her. It was strange to watch myself. The memory was so different from the vision.

The spell then catapulted me forward to a circle of witches around a fire. They were celebrating Cassie’s death. It flung me one more time to a vision of witches in a later century. They wore long skirts and high collars. They gathered around a pentagram. Then, it stopped.

The candles went out. That was the end.

Without a talisman or totem belonging to the witches that were after us, I couldn’t make the spell show me anything more.

“Jason,” Ava screamed from her room.

I dropped the mullein leaves and bones. I wiped the graphite off my eyes. Then I ran to her room.

“What is it?” I said, breathlessly.

“Look,” Ava said. She pointed at the bed.

There were two tarot readings on the bed side-by-side, a blank card at the end of each.

“That one,” she said, pointing a shaking finger to the one on the right, “is Marc’s reading. The other one is Dagny’s.”

“What does it mean?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“Well, I think at the very least it means she didn’t stay away from him,” said Ava. My blood burned, my veins pulsed.

Jason, Ava started to say in my head.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. She disobeyed us and now she’s in danger.”

Ava didn’t argue. I was right. We didn’t know what it meant to have a blank tarot reading. It had never happened before.

Regardless, it couldn’t mean anything good.

“Did you see the vision again of her bloodied?” I asked.

“No, I see nothing now,” Ava said. “It’s completely blank now, like him.”

“Where is she?”

“At Brooke’s. She’s spending the night,” Ava said.

“Call Dagny’s cell,” I said.

Ava grabbed her phone. She looked up at me.

She’s not answering.

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“Try Brooke,” I said.

Ava dialed Brooke.

“Hi Brooke. I’m so sorry to call so early. Dagny isn’t answering her phone and we need to talk to her,” Ava said.

Brooke’s voice chirped on the other end of the phone.

“Well, wake her up,” Ava said.

Ava’s face hardened.

“Where is she?” Ava said. She said each word distinctly and venomously. “You and I will have a chat later, Brooke.”

She hung up the phone.

“She’s not with Brooke. Brooke said she doesn’t know where she is.”

“Call Dad,” I said. “He went to the store early to do some inventory. I’m going to find her.”

I closed my eyes. I summoned the heat and fire from the atmosphere. The locator spell was made in fire. It was more powerful and faster than a seeker spell. I held out my palms. They crackled with power. Electricity from the air and earth leapt inside me. A glowing, hot ball, the size of a small apple, formed in front of me. It shot into my chest. All I had to do was picture Dagny’s face.

It would take me right to her.

“Jason, wait for me,” Ava said.

I didn’t wait.

Marc Although her house was only a few yards away, the fogged car window kept us strategically separated from her family.

Dagny kissed my cheek lightly. At her touch, my power grew hotter, like I threw a log on a fire. I didn’t realize it at first. These surges in power only happened when she was around. As I became stronger, they became stronger.

“Thanks for driving me home.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“You OK?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“Are you implying I talk a lot?”

“No,” she said, slapping me on the arm. “It’s almost morning though and you’ve barely said anything. Did something happen earlier at the party with Brooke’s brother?”

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I’d been debating all night if I should tell Dagny anything about the so-called party. Knowing Brooke was an Aradnian would ruin their friendship. If my family was any indication, most Aradnians didn’t question the need to hunt and kill Travelers.

Brooke wasn’t seventeen yet, they could be friends for another year still. I also didn’t tell her yet about Aiden and the prophecy. I wasn’t sure yet if I should take it seriously.

“We don’t have to talk,” she said.

She kissed me again and ran her lips down to my neck. I placed my hands around her face and pulled it to mine. My lips brushed down her jaw, until I reached her neck. I ran my tongue back up to her chin and pulled my lips to hers again. This was not a place we could go yet. Reluctantly, I pulled away.

She frowned and pinched her face as though she were angry.

I could tell it was playful.

“You want your first time to be in the back seat of a car?” I tried to deflect.

“Who said it was my first time?” she said.

I flinched, reflexively. Her eyes instantly darkened in fury.

“Would that mean there’s something wrong with me if it wasn’t?” she snapped.

“Of course not,” I answered, probably not convincingly enough. It wouldn’t. It didn’t. That wasn’t the issue.

Her cheeks flushed with anger.

“Shocker, unrealistic double standards. You want to get in my pants and you also want me to be the virtuous girl next door.

Well, I’m not the girl next door or the girl two doors down or the one across the street.”

“I guess you’re the one who’s been around the block then,” I said, jokingly.

“You’re a jerk.” She threw her body toward the other side of the car.

I’d definitely hit a nerve, or more likely all 7 trillion of them.

I had to do something fast.

“Hey Dagny. I’m so sorry. Let me buy you an Atari,” I sang.

“Or go to a party and eat some smarties.”

She held her mouth tight. I could see she was trying hard not to smile. “Oooh Dagny, please forgive me or else I’ll have to go live with some pigmies.”

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“OK, shhh,” she said, with a forced pout. “You’re going to make me wish I was deaf.”

“Was it that bad?” I asked, satisfied.

“A for melody, D for lyrics. You might want to think more Walt Whitman and less Dr. Seuss.”

“I do have a good tune in my head for green eggs and ham.”

“Please don’t sing it.”

“Alright. For the record, I think Robert Frost would probably make better lyrics than Whitman,” I said.

Her temper had cooled. Still, I hadn’t completely fixed this yet.

“Dagny, listen, your past made you who you are,” I said, solemnly. “That’s the person I love. Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt.”

She was quiet and looked at me quizzically.

“It’s from Whitman.”

“I get it,” she said. She was quiet. I could practically see the gears in her head processing.

“I’m sorry I’m so sensitive,” she whispered. Then she curled up on the seat and relaxed into my arms. I tugged her closer and caressed her.

“I don’t want to make any mistakes with you. When the time’s right we’ll both know,” I said.

She didn’t respond. Gently, I stroked her hair. She looked up at me. Her sunflower eyes glowed in the darkness.

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” I said. “The first time I saw them I couldn’t stop looking at them.”

“I like that you feel that way. They’re the only thing that’s really me,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“When we Travel, for some reason we always keep our eyes.

They’re always the same color in every body, the same color they were in our first bodies. I don’t know why. Sometimes I think it’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.”

“It must be hard, always changing. Do you ever wish you could not change anymore?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She laid her cheek back on my chest and hugged me closer.

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My eyes felt heavy. For the first time in a very long time, they were weighed down by a sense of peace.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the window.

“Get out of the car right now.”

Dagny It all happened quickly. I barely had time to process. A loud pounding sound. Jason’s angry face in the fogged window. Marc jerked away from me. A cold gust of wind. Marc outside the car. A crazed Jason staring him down. Me inside the car.

My senses shot to attention. I pushed open the door to confront my crazed brother. Marc slammed it shut.

“Stay,” he said, protectively, without looking back at me.

I pushed on the door frantically but it wouldn’t open.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Marc said.

Jason’s muscles bulged beneath his black polo shirt. Even though it was getting colder, Jason still wore his uniform. He didn’t need a coat. He had the fire element to keep him warm.

Jason’s face was deep red with anger. The air around him hissed with power. Tiny blue pulses of electricity flickered across his exposed arms.

“Dagny, go home now,” Jason said, his voice cold and hostile.

I tried the handle again. It wouldn’t budge. Did Marc do that? I didn’t think he was that powerful.

“I won’t let you hurt Marc,” I called, through the window.

“I won’t hurt him, much.” The venom in Jason’s voice was thick.

Marc’s body acted as a barrier between me and Jason. He didn’t seem afraid. He really should. My brother had a temper that could quickly flare out of control.

“You need to calm down,” Marc commanded, sternly.

“Marc, don’t aggravate him,” I said. I yanked at the door handle.

“We told you to stay away from him,” Jason yelled at me.

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Jason flexed his muscles. He made the Terminator look like a toy. In fact, he looked like he ate the Terminator for breakfast and maybe some of his evil robot friends, too.

“Dagny, go home now. You will never see him again. I will make sure of it.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you right now,” Marc responded.

Marc appeared calm and steady but I knew better. I’d seen him like this before in Vegas when he took down the large Texan.

His stance was the same now. He was ready to act. The last thing I needed was my newly magical boyfriend getting into a brawl with my magically superior rage-prone brother. Jason lunged forward to grab Marc. A screech escaped my lips.

Marc threw himself into the front seat. There was a strange sound, like fabric tearing. The engine sprang to life. Jason’s eyes went wild. He swiped at the car handle to wrench it open. The doors locked before he could get a firm grip.

I looked at Marc. He was wearing a red flannel shirt over a gray t-shirt. A large piece of the bottom of the flannel shirt was torn off. I nodded to him. Marc hit the gas.

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Chapter 19

Marc Large scenery prints in gold-painted frames lined the room.

The furniture was dark plywood mimicking mahogany. The bedspread print swirled with dark colors. It was a typical mediocre hotel room and it was all ours, at least today.

“Were you afraid back there?” Dagny asked. She dropped down onto the bed.

“Someone definitely fed your brother too many cans of spinach. I can handle myself, though,” I said. The truth was I was scared, just not for me. I was afraid Jason would take Dagny and disappear.

“You know there’s no way I’m letting you pay for this room.

Even for one night,” she said.

“I’m responsible for this. You have to let me pay,” I said.

“You are not responsible,” she argued. She dragged the sacklike bag she called a purse toward her.

“What about a trade?” I suggested. “I’ll pay for the room.

You teach me something about the way you do spells.”

“Most of the money I have is in my house,” she said to herself. She yanked out a crumpled up five dollar bill and plunged

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her hand back in to find more. This time she found a few coins and a scrap of paper.

“I don’t think I could even consider sneaking in to get it,” she sighed. “I could probably rob a bank or at least an ATM.” She looked up at me from the bed. She wouldn’t do that right?

“I’m kidding. What?” she asked.

“Is there a spell for reading minds?” I wondered suddenly. If she could Professor X me that would be bad, really bad.

“I don’t use spells, remember.”

“Right, how does that work again?” I said.

“Usually, I just concentrate on what I want and it happens,” she explained.

“So, you could concentrate on reading my mind and it would happen?”

“Something like that,” she said, shrugging.

“Have you ever done that?” I asked.

“Yes, sort of,” she admitted, guiltily. “Only once, though.

Don’t worry. I couldn’t read anything. It’s pretty difficult. People, especially witches, keep strict barriers around their thoughts. I shouldn’t have even tried. I’m not proud of it.”

“When?” I was part horrified and part intrigued.

“In Vegas, right after we watched Casablanca,” she admitted in a low voice.

“Why?” “I don’t know.” She looked down at her bag and picked at the strap. “People just don’t do nice things for me. My family is, well, it’s obvious they’re a little bit nuts. They’d rather tell me what to do than do something nice for me.”

“Why are you different from them? Are you older?”

I’d been wondering this since I found out she was a Traveler.

How old was she really?

“No, actually I’m the youngest. Technically I guess I’m about thirty.”

“What do you mean technically?”

“It’s a memory thing,” she said. “I’m always starting over. If I stayed in my very first body, yes I’d be thirty. In that body, I’d also have all my memories, like a normal person. But, when I Travel, I lose almost all of my memories. I remember my family and how to

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talk or add. Everything else, what I did or what happened to me, is pretty much gone. It comes back sometimes, memories or information, in these annoying spurts. It’s really frustrating.

Anyway, thanks to this memory business, I’m probably more of a seventeen-year-old than you.”

“That must be hard,” I said. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to forget my past.

“It is,” she responded, quietly.

I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed. Neither one of us spoke. It was a respectful moment of silence for her lost life.

“So, can you teleport?” she said, suddenly.

“No, I don’t know if I can do it even with a spell,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Maybe I can teach you but not right now,” she said. “Can we just do something normal?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Watch TV,” she said, eagerly. “I don’t have one at home.

That’s what normal people do, right?”

I picked up the remote and switched on the TV. I laid down next to her and she snuggled up against my chest. I always wished there was someone who would tell you when your life climaxed.

You always hear people say “those were the best days of my life” as though they had no idea when they were living them. If these were the best days of my life, I would be satisfied for a million lifetimes.

Dagny There she was again in my dream. Her ghostly figure in the old-fashioned long dress waded in the pond. She wasn’t alone this time. There were other women in long dresses and men in formal suits, some with tails, waistcoats and even top hats. They were all from other eras and they were all transparent.

They all spoke at once, a loud hum of cluttered voices. My mother was yelling to me. I couldn’t hear her through the drone.

Then, like a train charging toward me, her voice became louder and clearer.

“It’s time, Dagny. It’s time to remember,” she said.

I snapped awake, breathing heavily. My body stiffened.

I clung to the memory of her face. Even though I’d never seen it before, somehow I knew it was her first face, the one she had 197

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400 years ago. I suddenly realized these dreams of my mother were the spirits talking to me, just like they talked to her. Now she was one of them. The idea I was still connected to her comforted me.

I relaxed back into Marc’s arms. Now I had to figure out what she wanted me to remember.

The muted TV cast shadows around the room.

“Hey.” Marc stirred. “You OK?” “I’m fine,” I said.

He rubbed his hand up and down my bare arm. It tingled with electricity. My feelings for him were so powerful I worried they would destroy me. It felt like he was holding me together and if he let go, I’d fall apart. Did everyone in love feel this way? It felt as if the world set everything in motion just so we could meet.

Groggily, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. My hand rested just below his neck. I touched his scar. It was faint now. The tremor of his voice vibrated through my finger and down into my body. It made my stomach froth with excitement.

“What time is it?” he asked. His hair was flat on the left side from being pressed up against the pillow. I ruffled it with my fingers.

“Almost five at night,” I answered.

“It’s late. I guess I was tired.”

“Yeah, staying up all night and being confronted by my crazy brother first thing in the morning can do that,” I said. “We both took a pretty long nap.”

His chest shook as he chuckled lightly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little,” I said. “There’s a vending machine down the hall.”

“We are not paying for our dinner in quarters,” he said.

“But that’s what people on the lam do,” I protested. “Aren’t we kind of on the lam? We’re running away from my family who wants to keep us apart.”

“Can we be on the cow instead then?” he said. “Hamburgers are pretty tasty.”

He sat up and put his feet on the floor. I rolled over onto my side and propped my head up on my hand.

“No. We have to do this right,” I said. “We have to skulk around in seedy joints and befriend misunderstood bad guys. We’ll

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buy a motorcycle and travel across the country. You already know how to ride. Just try not to crash this time.”

“Being on the lam is starting to sound a lot like the plot of Easy Rider,” he mumbled absently as he stretched his arms above his head. “While you’re skulking, I’m going to try to find food that is not encased in plastic. I don’t want you to die of a heart attack at thirty.”

He stood up and stretched his arms toward the ceiling.

Normally, I would have laughed at his joke. But his comment made me realize something. I never cared about nutrition before.

Why should I? I never stayed in a body long enough for it to matter.

Things were different now. I wanted to stay in this body, with him, until we died. I didn’t want to Travel anymore, ever. A shiver raked through my spine.

“Let’s go,” I said, suddenly.

He looked down at me quizzically.

“Let’s jump back in the car and just take off,” I said. “Leave my family and all this stupid stuff about how you’re an Aradnian and I’m a Traveler behind.”

If he said yes right this second, I would do it. I didn’t care about anything else except being with him.

“Be serious, Dagny.”

“I am serious,” I said.

“Dagny.” He knelt down so his face was right next to mine.

“Listen, I would love to run away with you. But I don’t want to run away from our problems, not unless we have to.”

“What are we going to do? Hide out in a hotel forever?” I said.

“No, your family knows about us now. They’ll have to deal with it. Just tell them the truth. We love each other and we want to be together. They’ll accept it eventually.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then, I promise, we can run.”

We were both silent. The atmosphere in the room turned heavy. He stood back up.

“What about pizza?” he asked. “Is that appropriate ‘on the lam’ food?”

I nodded yes.

He tapped his phone and held it to his ear.

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“I’d like to order a pizza,” he said into the phone. “To the Comfort Inn on route 7, room 1717.”

“No veggies or else I’ll hit the vending machine,” I said, while he was talking.

He hung up the phone and looked at me slyly.

“You’ll have to get through me to get to the vending machine.”

He spread his arms wide and hunched down like he was going to pounce if I moved.

“Oh, like that would be hard. Remember I know how to teleport,” I said, teasingly.

He relaxed onto the edge of the bed.

“So are you going to teach me how you do that or what?” he asked.

“I’ll try. Let’s try it with the spell first,” I said.

“That’s not how you do it,” he argued.

“You said you’ve never done it before. Let’s start with the beginner level before skipping to expert. When you can do it using a spell, we can talk about how to do it without one.”

“Fine. I remember everything the spell needs. First, I need a candle. I have one in my bag,” Marc said as he fished through his backpack. He pulled out books and neatly stacked them on the dresser. He also carefully piled bags full of powders and spices. He was like a traveling magical apothecary.

One of the books was small and white. It was a barely noticeable little thing he laid on top of an American History textbook. Its cover had two crescents spread slightly apart. I froze.

“Is that the book you keep talking about?” I asked. I knew it was something from his tribe of Wicca but I didn’t know what exactly.

“Yeah, it’s the Libri Dea, the book of Aradnia. It’s kind of like our version of a Bible,” he explained.

I had a strange urge to touch it.

“You want to see it?” he asked.

“No,” I yelled, louder than I wanted.

“It’s not going to bite you.”

“Let’s focus on the spell,” I said. He was an Aradnian. He was also Marc. I wanted to think of him as a person and not as part of some Wiccan group hell bent on destroying me.

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He opened the book and glanced over a page.

“Yep, I remembered it right,” he said to himself.

Reaching down to the very bottom of his bag, he finally found a candle.

“You should open the window,” I suggested.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s an air spell, right?” I answered. “Fresh air and wind will help make it more powerful.”

He walked over to the edge of the room and pushed up the window. A cold breeze drifted inside. Its energy was palpable.

“I have the ground up bones of a pigeon.” He nodded toward a small plastic bag filled with dark gray powder. “And I need a circular object to serve as my portal” He noted this without referencing the book again. I already suspected he had a great memory. This was just another clue. It was hard to admit but part of me was jealous. I wished I could remember even half of the things he could.

“Here, use my ring.” I took the ring off of my thumb.

“Your ring is shaped like a snake eating the sun and the moon.” He scrunched his eyebrows together with amusement.

“Shut up,” I said, playfully. “What next?”

“I need to cover the object in the bone dust and blow on it so the dust disperses into the air,” he said.

He held up the bag and dipped the ring inside. Then he held the powder-covered trinket in front of his mouth.

“Blow it out the window. It will help with the spell,” I said.

He took a breath, leaned out the window and blew the powder off the ring.

“That’s all the book says to do. Any tips from the expert?” he asked me. He slipped the ring on his pinky finger. It only went halfway down.

“Concentrate. Picture where you want to be,” I instructed.

He lit the candle and mumbled a word over and over. His body began to contort and flash. His shoulder stretched toward the wall like it was made of taffy. He had considerable power for someone who just started using magic.

His body elongated and faded at the edges. The cells were being released into the atmosphere. My heart sped up. It was stupid to pick something so advanced. Spells could easily go wrong with 201

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just a random thought, an imbalanced tribute, a hard breeze. Any one of a million things and he could… Suddenly, he flashed out of my sight. My heart stopped.

“Boo,” his bodiless voice said.

Startled, my body lurched as I turned toward the voice. There he stood, just a few feet from me, on the other side of the room. Like I was hit with an electrical charge, my heart re-started.

“You scared me half to death,” I yelled.

“Better than all to death,” he said. “So, how’d I do?”

“Very impressive,” I said, thrilled and relieved.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Are you sure you’ve only been doing magic for a couple weeks?” I said. His power was strong. A witch so young should have struggled with that spell or not been able to do it at all. He was nearly effortless. How was that possible? It took my family centuries of Traveling to be able to do that spell. Was it because Aradnian magic was different? Or was there someone else like me?

I gulped down my excitement.

“Yeah. I get stronger every day. Now, I can do more than my sister who is a year older than me. She’s lazy, though, and doesn’t really care about getting better. But it really is about being with you.” He hesitated. “I can’t really explain it. When I’m with you, it’s like my power explodes almost beyond my control. Sorry, I know that sounds totally weird.”

“Sounds like hormones,” I said, laughing.

There was a knock at the door.

“That’s the pizza,” he said.

He opened the door.

“Um, Dagny, it’s not pizza.”

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Chapter 20

Dagny The person at the door was definitely not the pizza delivery guy. It was my father. He showed up at our hotel room and made it clear there was no way I was going to stay overnight with a boy.

Although I didn’t want to leave Marc, I did. My father was calm and sagely but my legs still quaked when he gave a command.

That was last night. Now, it was late morning. I was still in my bed. The Sunday sun shone so brightly through my floral curtains I couldn’t ignore it much longer. I hated those curtains. Ava picked them out.

I rolled over and put one of the matching frilly pillows over my face.

Luckily by the time I got home last night, Jason and Ava were already in their rooms. I went straight to mine and I didn’t have to see them. I was relieved. I wanted to put this talk off as long as possible. There were too many conflicting emotions swirling around inside me.

I was wrong. I’d lied to them and I hated feeling guilty about that. But, I also wanted to scream at them and make them understand I had to lie.

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“Dagny,” my father called. “Can you please come down here?”

I debated pretending as if I didn’t hear him. I was already feeling defensive. But it was time to face them.

I threw off the covers and shivered. The house was chilly. I tucked my feet in warm pink slippers and reached for the matching robe. Then I stopped.

I kicked off the slippers and dropped the robe on the floor. I didn’t want to wear anything Ava bought me. Instead, I stayed in the old black t-shirt and striped pajama pants my father bought me when we were in the hotel in Los Angeles. I’d rather be cold.

There was a long mirror on the wall across from my bed. I stood up and looked at myself up and down. My pajamas looked like one of those jailhouse uniforms in old movies. It was fitting. Living with my family was like being in jail most of the time.

I took my time walking down to the living room. Everyone else was already there, waiting for me.

“Nice to see you dressed for the occasion,” Ava said, snidely.

Ava wore her usual gray pencil skirt that went past her knees and a crisp white blouse buttoned up around her neck. Today she also had a cream cashmere sweater draped over her shoulders. She sat primly on the edge of the dark blue Victorian loveseat. The furniture in our living room was formal, complete with ornate dark woods and rich velvet fabrics. Thick drapes hung on the windows, making the room dark. It did not scream homey.

Jason didn’t say anything. He just stood in the corner of the room with his legs spread shoulder width and his hands folded in front of him. He was dressed already in jeans and a blue polo shirt.

He practically blended in with the navy damask wallpaper.

Jason’s blond hair curled around his temples. His skin was deep tan. It was so incongruent with his personality. This was the body for a carefree surfer not a humorless, uptight soldier-type.

My father sat in a large leather chair to the right of the fireplace.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” he offered. “So we can talk about this Marc situation.”

“I’d rather stand,” I said. I leaned against the fireplace. If Jason was going to stand, I was going to stand.

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“Alright. Well, first things first, you lied to us.” My father’s voice revealed anger and hurt. The hurt might make me give in. I had to focus on the anger.

I wriggled my fingers nervously and bit my lip.

“I did,” I said.

“Why?” I took a breath. I was going to say it. I couldn’t believe it.

“Because I love Marc and I want to be with him.” I threw my hand up when I spoke and knocked over one of the golden figurines on the mantle. Ava loved those figurines for some reason. They looked expensive. I decided not to set it back up.

“Dagny,” Ava said. She stood up, brushed the front of her skirt and glided over to me. Reaching gingerly, she righted the figurine and then looked at me. “We told you to stay away from him for a reason.” She calmly walked back to her seat and sat down. “We don’t want you getting involved with anyone. It’s dangerous. It’s even more dangerous now. You might want to sit down for this.”

“I’ll stand, thanks,” I said.

I really wanted to knock the figurine over again.

“Fine, we discovered Marc is a witch,” Ava said, clearly expecting a shocked response from me.

I sighed. They weren’t going to like this.

“I know,” I said.

“What? How long have you known?” she yelled.

Ava never yelled. Embarrassment flooded her face. She pressed her lips together and drummed her fingers lightly on her chest. Then she looked off in the distance. “How long have you known?” she repeated, quietly.

“Since that kiss thing,” I admitted.

“You were supposed to tell us if you met any witches and you have been sneaking out to see Marc even though we told you to stay away from him. What else have you been lying about?” Jason bellowed. He took his fist and smashed it into the wall. The gaping hole sizzled and smoked. His hand crackled with sparks.

“Jason,” Dad chided.

Jason didn’t apologize.

“I know you’re all angry with me but too bad. This is how it’s going to work from now on,” I said. They thought I was just some stupid, naïve girl. I’d had enough.

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“You’re not in a position to tell us how things are going to be,” Jason said, walking forward. His eyes burned with anger.

My father gave him a look and Jason took a step back into his corner.

“I think I am. I can leave. At any time, I can jump in a car and run off with Marc and you’ll never see us again. So you can either accept him or I will go.”

“Dagny,” Ava said, turning her head to me suddenly as though she’d realized something. “Do you know what tribe Marc is in?”

Was it possible they didn’t know he was an Aradnian? They only said they knew he was a witch. Should I lie? No, I wouldn’t, not this time.

“I do. He’s an Aradnian.”

Jason jumped forward. Dad stood. Ava gasped.

Jillian The floor creaked. Then it creaked again. Over and over it squeaked and groaned. The house wasn’t old it just wasn’t built well. It was a quick job done in the 80s. They built a lot of houses back then, many of them shoddy. Ours was one of them. The noise was driving me crazy. It was Marc. He was pacing.

I opened his door without knocking.

“You’re driving me nuts,” I told him. “I can hear every step you take. Our rooms are right next to each other, you know.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled and slumped down at his desk. He looked scared.

There was something very wrong. Marc was never scared.

When our family almost lost the house, Marc worked three jobs until we had enough to pay our mortgage. After Benjamin married our Mom, Marc didn’t have to work anymore. But anytime there was a problem, Marc thought about it, dissected it and then figured out how to fix it. It was one of the things I truly hated about him. He wasn’t afraid of anything, until now.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, reluctantly. I vowed over and over to stop caring about my family; somehow they kept pulling me back in.

“Close the door, please,” he said.

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I debated turning around and going back to my room.

“Jillian, I need you to tell me the truth,” he said.

It was too late. I was already inside. I closed the door.

“About what?” I asked.

“I know Benjamin and Mom are still trying to find the Possessors. Are you helping them?”

Yes, it was wrong to kill people, even Possessors. But if I didn’t help them kill this girl with the Goddess’ power, then they would have to kill Marc instead. I didn’t have a choice.

“No.” I lied, guiltily.

“Jillian, you’re a terrible liar. These people haven’t hurt us,” he said. “Mom and Benjamin are only doing this because some book told them to.”

“No, there’s more to it than that,” I said. I put my hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that.

Marc stood up and walked over to me. He put one hand on each shoulder and forced me to look him in the eye. I hated looking people in the eye.

“Tell me what’s going on, Jillian. I need to know.”

“Benjamin made me promise not to tell you,” I whispered.

“I don’t care,” said Marc. “Tell me. I’m your brother.”

“I can’t,” I said.

“Jillian,” he snapped. He was frustrated.

“Look, I can’t tell you. Benjamin won’t let me. He knows you tried to bind his powers, though. He was able to undo it but he’s still pissed. I don’t know why you did it. I guess you wanted to keep him from going after those Possessors.”

“Wait, what? They both have their full power?” he said.

“Yeah,” I responded.

“That’s a problem.”

Jason “I’m not leaving, so don’t even suggest it,” Dagny said, petulantly. “There is no reason to go. I like it here. I like my school.

I like my friends. I like this body.”

“You like your boyfriend,” Ava said, snippily.

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“It’s not only that,” Dagny said, whining. Her voice grew soft. “It feels right here. I feel right here. Falls City is a great town. I think you two even like going to high school here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ava said. “Besides, those are not good enough reasons to stay.”

“Fine, I love Marc and he loves me. That’s enough reason for me. He’s not like other Aradnians. He’s not trying to kill us. Listen to me, there is no way I’m leaving.”

I balled my fists tight to stay calm. The binding around my rage was gone. At any moment the anger could bubble up and burst out.

“Alright Dagny,” Dad said.

I shot him a look. He raised his hand.

“We’re not suggesting leaving yet. However, you have to allow us time to investigate this boy. His Wiccan doctrine says he must destroy us. Although you think he is special, he is a seventeenyear-old boy. Things change quickly when one is that young.

Teenagers can be fickle.”

“You don’t get it,” Dagny said, pouting. “None of you do.

It’s different. We’re different. Don’t make me choose because I will choose him.”

She wasn’t serious? She just met him.

“Dagny,” I said, seething. “You’re just a kid.”

Jason, don’t antagonize her, Ava said in my head. She’s emotional. She might run off with him. Let it go for now. She’s safe for tonight. I’ll stay with her in her room so we know she won’t leave. Tomorrow, when she’s gone to school, we’ll figure out what to do.

“I may be a kid but at least I am not inhuman like you,” Dagny said, her voice rising to a shout.

I opened my hand and flexed my fingers. Then I closed it again tight into a fist. The air crackled.

Jason, Ava said again. Please.

I glared at Dagny. Then I turned and went to my room.

I kept the piece of shirt I ripped off Marc when I confronted them yesterday. It was lying on my dresser. Marc was an Aradnian.

Was it possible he was part of the group of Aradnians chasing us all these centuries? That had to be the case. How was I so blind? This was the only thing that made sense.

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My feet burned with the familiar sensation of energy. If I was wrong, the spell would end in the same place it always ended. If I was right, Marc killed our mother.

I took the piece of his shirt. I dropped it in a bowl. Then I lit it on fire. I waited for it to burn to ash. I gripped the mullein leaves, bones and the ashes of Marc’s shirt tightly in my left hand. I painted circles around my eyes with my right hand.

“Cassie,” I whispered to myself.

The sound of birds chirped in my ears, even though it was almost winter. They had all flown south. The flap of their wings faded into the roar of an old propeller airplane. I was yanked back through time to a coal-burning locomotive. It raced from one side of my head to the next. It left the smell of noxious fumes in my nostrils.

In my mind, the dark skies of a city burned on the brink of industry. A small house sat on its outskirts. There I cradled Cassie.

Her long flowing brown hair spilled onto the ground. Her vacant eyes were open and unblinking. I hugged her body to my chest.

I remembered the last time I saw her pale green eyes. Our father, mother and Ava had already enacted the spell to Travel. Their old bodies were collapsed around us, dead on the ground. I was about to say the incantation and follow them when Cassie looked at me. She said—“Jason, it feels as though something is ripping out my soul”—then her eyes turned dark brown. She fell to the ground. She never said the incantation. She was gone.

With a shaking hand, I reached out to this ancient version of myself. When I touched my shoulder in the vision, a small ball of light formed and shimmered. I curled my fingers around it. It disappeared into my palm. My world began to spin. The moves through time came in rapid succession First, I was thrown to a new place. People danced around a fire in harmonious victory. They were celebrating her death. I’d seen this already many times. It still made me sick.

Quickly, I skipped to the next point with the women in long skirts and high collars around the pentagram. This was where the connection spell always stopped previously. Now, I would find out if my theory was correct.

The spell whipped me around again. I saw a group of children and adults around a table. They wore pea greens and mud 211

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brown prints. It looked like a family in the 60s. There was no food on the table, only candles and herbs. They held hands and chanted.

The spell jolted me again. It stopped on a clear vision: Marc and his sister, standing in a room talking.

My body turned cold.

Mr. Smith “Ellis,” the voice said to me. It was deep and saturated with ancient power.

“Yes sir,” I said. Even though the Viator could not see me, I stood straight with my shoulders back.

“Have you located her yet?”

“She is in Virginia. I don’t know exactly where, yet,” I said.

The phone was silent.

“Sir?” I said.

“We are running out of time,” he said. “You need to locate her and complete the ritual.”

“I understand,” I said. “I have narrowed the search. It will be a few more days.”

“We do not have a few more days. Go to the source of the power. It is the only way.”

“I only have one chance if I do that, sir,” I stated.

“Then you better make sure it works,” the Viator said.

“I won’t let you down,” I responded.

“I know you won’t. You will find her. Make sure the knife is ready for the ritual. It will need to be perfect for the spell to work.”

“Yes sir."

I hung up the phone.

August lay sleeping on the couch.

I turned a knife over in my hands and rubbed along the edges. It wasn’t the right one. I put it down and found another one.

When I touched it, it pulsed with energy. This was the one. It was a wooden hunting knife. Along the blade was a carving of a stallion for strength and tree for knowledge.

“Invenio sol,” I whispered.

I ran the blade slowly along the edge of my arm, separating my skin and letting blood seep out. The pain made me shudder with lust.

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“Transduco lux,” I whispered.

I smeared my blood into the crevices of the etching on the handle of the knife. Combining my blood with August’s blood should make the spell stronger. I needed every ounce of power. This would be my last attempt to find her. I could not fail.

I walked over to August. His chest rose and fell calmly. He looked peaceful sleeping.

“Monstro anima,” I screamed. I drove the blade straight into his heart.

August’s eyes shot open. Blood gushed out onto the floor.

August writhed, his mouth filled with red ooze. The energy coursed from his heart through the knife and into my hands. It shocked me when it touched my fingers and then shot up into my brain. I saw her.

“Dagny,” I whispered.

This was the clearest vision of her I’d ever had. She was lovely, a small teenager with long, wavy sun kissed hair. Her eyes were fierce. She would not give up without a fight. Lust crept in my throat.

August went limp. I held the knife steady, afraid to move until I had the information I required.

Dagny stood next to a fireplace. It felt as if I was in the room next to her. There was an ancient smell of ash and herbs. The air was cool. There were others with her, two maybe three. They were just forms in the vision. The only clear image was her.

They were talking. At first her voice was muffled like the others. The vision was not firm.

My loins tingled with the sensation of being so close. I could feel the power coming off of her. I concentrated on the scene. I needed a clue.

I caught a few words and phrases: “kiss”, “know”, “what to do”. Then I heard her say it.

“Falls City,” she said.

I let go of the knife. The vision disappeared. It was time.

I picked up the phone with my bloody hand and called him.

“I found her,” I said. “She’s in Falls City, Virginia. I am already in Virginia. It is only a few hours away. I have a plan.”

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Chapter 21

Dagny Marc waited for me by the back doors of the school. He paced in dark jeans and a striped button down dress shirt. He looked like he dressed up for a special occasion. It was special. It was our first day as an official couple.

I got out of the car and ran to him. Jason and Ava stayed home. They were too mad at me to even ride with me to school. I didn’t care.

I flung myself into his arms. He scooped me up and swung me around. My body hummed, like it always did when I was close to him. The little missing pieces inside me filled up. Around Marc I felt almost complete.

“I am so relieved to see you. When you didn’t call I was worried,” he said.

“There’s no reason to worry. I told them we are together and they have to deal with it.”

He opened the door for me and took my backpack off my shoulder. He flung it over his own and grabbed my hand.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he said.

“Yeah, right.”

We walked through the large red doors and into the school.

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This was the first time we’d be seen together in public. There was no reason for anyone to care or be shocked, other than my family. It didn’t matter. I was still nervous.

We walked blissfully through the halls hand-in-hand. I relaxed into our stroll and the wonderful feeling of normality. That was until I heard Jason.

“Dagny?” he said.

As he approached, Jason didn’t acknowledge Marc even with a cursory glance. In fact, he didn’t look at me either.

The first warning bell rang. The halls cleared.

“Can we talk?” Jason asked the floor. “In private?”

“I said everything I needed to say last night.”

“Please Dagny,” Jason begged.

There was a faint echo of closing lockers and last minute scurrying. The second bell rang loudly in our ears. Still we didn’t move.

It was just the three of us. Marc and I locked together staring down an adversary. It was like gunslingers at a showdown. We were just missing a tumbleweed.

“OK,” I said, reluctantly.

“Are you sure?” Marc said, leaning down to press his lips to my ear.

“It’ll be fine.” I assured him.

Marc looked at me and then at Jason. A brief light kiss swept across my cheek. Then slowly Marc walked down the hall. I turned my attention to Jason, who started toward an empty classroom.

“So, how are you?” Jason said when we arrived in the deserted room.

“Are you seriously trying to make small talk?” I almost laughed.

He looked down again as though there were a cheat sheet written on the floor. “Dagny, I don’t want to lose you,” he said, in his typical gruff manner. He was playing the guilt card. It must have been Ava’s idea.

“Lose me? You’re pushing me away,” I responded.

“Listen, what I need to tell you is we’ve been doing spells and readings to find out more about Marc for a while now.” His voice was low and shaking with anger.

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“Wow, first, nice to see you stuck with the not doing magic rule and, second, I can’t believe you’ve been spying on him,” I said, incredulously.

Jason didn’t defend himself. Instead he moved slowly to the other side of the room and looked out the window. Dark clouds blocked the sun and created an extension of the night into the morning. Shadows fell across his face, hiding almost all of his features.

“Dagny, Marc and his family killed Mom.” He said this sentence quietly but distinctly.

Vomit rose in my throat. I held it down. They killed my mother. I couldn’t breathe.

No, no. Jason was lying. This was a trick.

“This is low even for you,” I said, seething. “You and me, we’re done.”

Turning abruptly, I ran out the door.

A few breathless seconds later, I was in front of my locker pressing my forehead on the cool metal. My knees buckled and I turned and slid down to the floor.

The emotions came in waves, like crashing surf after a powerful storm: relief, horror, fear, confusion, anger. They all crashed down and mixed together. It built, curled and crashed, then built, curled and crashed again. I held my stomach. The waves continued churning. I swung my head back and forth and pressed my fingers into my forehead.

There were footsteps. He was coming. I looked up.

“Dagny?” Marc said. He cautiously crouched down next to me.

What if what Jason said was true? What did it mean?

“What did he say?” Marc asked, softly. He put his hand gently on my knee.

Jason accomplished his goal. He’d made me doubt. I reproached myself for even considering the possibility. Marc was everything I wanted. He was thoughtful. He was tough and tenacious but also sensitive. He was driven and intelligent. He loved me.

“It’s nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “If I repeat it, it means I would consider believing him.”

“I think you need to tell me,” Marc asserted.

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“He said you and your family killed my Mom, OK? It’s ridiculous. It’s not possible.” I looked straight at his face. He didn’t look surprised. Oh God, could it be true? I can’t think. This isn’t true. No. No. No. No. “Tell me it’s not true, Marc,” I begged.

“Dagny…,” he started.

“Did you kill my mother?” I demanded.

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have,” he stressed the word “I”.

“But you know who did?” I said.

“I don’t know for sure,” he responded.

“Yes, you do. Tell me.” It was all I could do not to scream.

“I think my stepfather orchestrated it,” he said. “Please, let me explain.”

Just like that, the relationship that was created in the span of what felt like a breath, the one that elevated my life to a new level, was destroyed in even less time.

I shoved his hand off my knee and shut my eyes.

Weightlessness washed over me as I stretched like a rubber band.

Marc The second Dagny disappeared, I tried to follow. Every time I opened my eyes, all I saw were the lockers mocking me. Without her nearby and without a spell, I was not strong enough to teleport.

I rushed to my house and started experimenting with any type of spell I could find that might get me to Dagny. I soon realized it wasn’t that I wasn’t strong enough. Spells weren’t working on her.

The summoning spells, remote viewing spells, information spells, desire spells, truth spells, future spells all had the same result.

Nothing.

There had to be a reason. Suddenly, I remembered there was a section in the Libri Dea about blocking magic. It could be done in many different ways. I’d even seen it firsthand with Aiden’s necklace. Dagny didn’t need a protective amulet. She could probably block me with simply a thought. I threw the book across the room. It landed with a loud thud.

“Marc?”

For a second I thought the book was talking to me. It was strange how much that did not shock me.

“May I come in?” the voice asked.

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“Yeah,” I said.

My mother tiptoed in. She was holding a book with an old distressed brown leather cover. She motioned for me to take it.

“What is this?” I asked, warily. I took the book. It had no title on the cover and the pages were beginning to detach from the binding.

She lifted her hand up in a great dramatic sweep and placed it on her heart.

“It’s a special book of spells you won’t find anywhere else.

You seemed very upset when you got home and you never get upset.

I thought this might help.”

She let her arm drop. This movement was embellished by the swishing of her silk robe. She always seemed to be wearing a robe these days. I wasn’t sure I’d seen her in actual clothes in months.

“Be careful with it,” she said as she swished out of the room.

“Those spells are powerful.”

The fragile pages were so old they were almost translucent.

Immediately, I noticed how this book was different from the Libri Dea. First, it was in a language I didn’t recognize. Luckily, in the margins next to the fading printed text there were handwritten English translations. The real difference, though, was that all of the spells involved blood. Could blood be the key to finding Dagny?

Blood was never used in any of the rituals in the Libri Dea. Blood equaled more potent spells. It also meant more dangerous ones. Blood magic was banned for Aradnians, probably for a good reason. Was this a step I was willing to take?

On the chalkboard in my mind I tried to map out all these potential trajectories. I subtracted, divided, carried, derived, multiplied and differentiated. Every time I’d wipe the board clean and start again. I had no other options. This was the only one that added up.

I found a spell that seemed appropriate, Reperio. The margin note said it meant “to find.” Deciphering the handwriting as best I could, I grabbed the necessary ingredients. Dagny’s ring, which I still had, would be the “token of the thing being sought.”

Per the instructions, I laid sage at the base of a white candle.

I sat down on the floor and I lit the wick. Then, I pricked my finger.

The blood dripped on the snake ring and down into the flame. The room went dark.

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Slowly and deliberately, I spoke the archaic words translated in the old book. The blood burned, sending hissing fire-less sparks off in all directions. When the sparks hit my skin, a massive jolt of power knocked me backward to the floor. The energy scorched through my body. I writhed in pain. My limbs burned like an uncontrollable blaze tearing through a forest, consuming everything in its path. I tried not to scream.

Slowly, I sat up. I took a breath and pulled the energy toward my core. It resisted at first. But I was determined. Soon I felt it coiling up at my center into a tiny, powerful ball. My hands and feet cooled, then my arms and legs and finally my head and shoulders.

I was in control now. I felt as though I could destroy the world with one touch.

I pictured Dagny’s face.

Suddenly, I was weightless in the darkness, as though I was floating through space. Somehow, I knew it was time to open my eyes. When I did, I saw her. She was right in front of me on the floor of what I assumed was her room. It was very girly. It didn’t seem like her style at all. Her face was in her hands.

Instinctively, I reached out to comfort her. My hand went right through as if I were a ghost.

Jason burst into the room. He was breathing heavily.

Dagny jumped to her feet. “Is it really true? Marc killed Mom?” “No,” I yelled out. She couldn’t hear me. I was a phantom.

“Yes, I did a connection spell,” Jason said. “I used Cassie’s memory as an anchor and that piece of Marc’s shirt. It showed that the witches who killed Cassie were connected to Marc. The spell went right to him and his sister.” Jason spoke in a low, monotone voice. His body was rigid. His mouth moved but almost everything else, including the rest of his face, was still. Dagny always said he was like a robot. “Now, I assume you finally agree we have to leave.

Dad and Ava are looking at new potential bodies and locations. We don’t have a lot of time. I don’t know what we’ll get.”

She turned her back to him, walked to the window and looked out through the glass.

“I’m not going.” She spoke with a calm, forcefulness.

Jason’s face went from placid to hateful. Dagny’s rebelliousness was short-circuiting his wiring. I couldn’t protect her.

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I was just a ghost. I wasn’t even sure if this was happening in real time.

“Dagny, be reasonable,” he pleaded from his corner. His fists were balled and the air around him fizzed and popped with hot, angry energy. “Your tarot reading is coming true. We have to go.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Ava has been doing tarot readings on you since we got here.

They’re always the same. You’re deceived and someone tries to control you. It shows you won’t be able to tell the difference between what is real and not real. Eventually, it shows aggression and sacrifice. Don’t you see what Marc’s been doing? He’s deceiving you, trying to convince you that your feelings for each other are real. They aren’t.”

“My feelings are real,” she snapped. “He could have killed me tons of times. It doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head.

“Maybe his family had him get close to you so he could figure out your weakness or gather information so they could kill all of us,” Jason suggested, fiercely. “I don’t know why he didn’t kill you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan to. In the tarot readings Ava got a vision of you, covered in blood. Everything else from the reading is starting to happen. We have to go. It’s the only way.”

“I’m not afraid to die. It’s time to end this, one way or another,” she said. Sunlight shone brightly across her face. She looked brazen and wild. At the sight of her resolve, Jason shrunk into the shadows.

“They obviously know who we are. They expect us to run.”

The emotion in her voice was deep. “Because that’s what we always do. They’re waiting to catch us when we Travel, when we’re most vulnerable. They’ve attacked and killed our family and we’ve stood by and done nothing. I get it. We didn’t know what or who we were fighting before. It’s different now.”

“And if we lose?” Jason asked.

I blinked. Suddenly, I was back in my room, feeling as though I’d never left.

“No,” I yelled, trying to shift myself back to her. It was useless. The spell had fulfilled its duty.

A sharp crack reverberated through the air. It sounded like a jet engine dropped out of the sky and landed in our yard. I ran to the window.

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Outside the large, solid oak tree in our front yard had cracked and fallen over. There were no high winds, no storm. It was a healthy tree I always kept trimmed. There was no reason for this.

The point where it cracked and broke was jagged like teeth.

My mother burst in. “Are you OK?� she panted.

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Chapter 22 Dagny We’d assembled again in the archaic living room. Everyone was in the same position as before—Ava perched on the edge of the Victorian loveseat, Jason tucked in a shadowy corner, my father seated in the leather chair. None of us made eye contact. We looked more like a group of strangers at an AA meeting than a family. Hi, I’m Dagny. I fell in love with someone who is trying to kill me. “Hi Dagny,” they would say in solidarity.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to go that way.

“I asked for this family meeting because I need to know everything.” I began from my position next to the fireplace. I looked at each of them as I spoke. None of them looked back. “So, first things first, why does Marc’s family want to kill us so badly? It can’t be just because we’re Travelers. There has to be more to it.”

They all looked at each other. No one spoke.

“Fine. You don’t want to tell me? Then, I’m out of here.”

It was the second time I’d threatened to leave them. Even now I wasn’t sure if I’d really do it.

“Have a seat, please,” Dad said. He pressed his fingers above his nose. “I suppose it is time we told you everything.”

“Dad, it’s quarter past ‘tell me the damn truth already’,” I grumbled with annoyance as I sat down on the couch.

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He released his fingers. “Well, we do not know why Marc’s family wants to kill us, specifically. I told you we knew the people chasing us were connected. Magic has its own essence, almost like a genetic marker. Your mother noticed it first. One particular group of Aradnians seemed to come after us doggedly. It was as though they had been assigned to pursue us for all eternity. However, we only found out when Jason did the connection spell this was actually Marc’s bloodline. They must pass down their desire and ability to find us through the generations.”

“So a connection spell conveniently told you it was Marc’s bloodline,” I repeated.

Ava’s back was so straight it looked like she had a yard stick attached to it. Her head turned at an uncomfortable angle, so she wouldn’t have to look at me.

“We’d never had actual people to focus on before,” she said.

Her tone was condescending, as usual. “It was like finding a needle in a haystack. When we started looking into Marc, it all started to show itself. Jason used Cassie’s death to anchor the spell. It led to them, just like a family tree. Once we had a branch, the rest of the tree appeared.”

“So this is the latest generation to come after us,” I said.

“Yes,” Ava said, with impatience. She looked at Dad directly.

“Are we done placating the princess?”

“No,” I snapped. “I have more questions.”

Ava’s patience may have eroded. Mine was nonexistent.

“You always have questions,” Ava observed, impertinently.

“These people have been coming after all of us and they killed Mom,” I said, ignoring her comment. “So, why am I the only one that’s treated like some sort of fragile doll? Dad, you said it’s because I’m so young. I don’t buy that. What’s really been going on?”

The creases in my father’s face deepened. He began to speak, slowly. “We are protective because you are different. Jason, Ava and I enhanced our powers through Travel. We can do simple spells and sometimes more complex ones based in our elements without direct contact with magical tools and talismans. However, we are simply channeling those materials. In essence, we still need them. However, you do not. You think and it is. I have never seen a power like yours.

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want to control you or they would want to destroy you. We have to protect you and keep you hidden.”

“Why am I different?”

He paused again.

“It has to do with your birth. To truly understand, you need to know the full story of why we Traveled for the first time,” Dad said.

“You were forced to because Mom had a husband before who hurt her,” I noted.

“Yes, we were technically never married. She was married to Thomas, as I told you. He was a vicious man. I fell in love with your mother the moment I saw her. Like a stallion, she was a force. She had to be to withstand even an ounce of his abuse. He never loved her. He only married her because of the prophecy.”

“Dad,” Ava snapped. “You’re not really going to tell her this part, are you?”

“Yes, I am. Your mother wanted to tell her. It was one of the last things she said me. When she died I was afraid. I kept the secret instead. I did what I thought was best to continue to keep Dagny safe.”

The memory flooded back again. There she was suddenly, my mother, not the spirit, but the person she was the last time I saw her in the flesh. Her green eyes shimmered with worry against her dark skin. We stood in the pond. She was tall. I put my arms around her waist. The water came up to my knees. She said it was time, the darkness was coming. I told her I didn’t understand. She said not to be afraid of the prophecy. She squeezed me tight. Her body was warm and comforting.

“Dagny?” Dad said.

The memory skidded to a stop.

“What?” I snapped.

“You look pale.” He stood and stepped toward me.

I put a hand up.

“Tell me about the prophecy,” I demanded.

He sat back in his chair. His face was grim.

“A seer foretold that your mother would give birth to the child in the prophecy, the one that would be born with the power of the Goddess.”

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“Power? Like the power Dionus had in the story of the first Traveler?” I asked.

“Correct. The prophecy says the power of the Sun Goddess will return to Earth, born during the winter solstice to a fallow daughter of Dionus,” he explained.

“I was born on the winter solstice,” I whispered. “I can’t be the only Dionician born on a winter solstice.”

“No, however you are the only one born to a fallow daughter of Dionus. You do not know this part. When Dionicians Travel, we cannot have any more children. Ava, Jason and Cassie were born before we Traveled. We had you after. Therefore, you were the daughter born to a fallow mother.”

“And once they had you the Aradnians found us faster,” Ava interrupted.

“How?” I asked.

My father stood again and looked at the figurines on the fireplace. He picked up one of a bird with its wings spread and examined it.

“We think it was because of the power you have,” he said.

“It’s so strong, it is easier to track. When you were young, we took to physically moving. It worked for short amounts of time. Only Traveling would really make the trail cold. Finally, when you were old enough, around 10, you Traveled for the first time. By then you were doing magic at an astonishing level. Now, Dagny, dear, I hope this explains why it is too dangerous to stay here.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “Running got Cassie and Mom killed. Running has made Jason and Ava who they are. I don’t want to be like them. I want to grow up and do something with my life.”

“You aren’t really saying you still want to stay and fight them?” Ava scoffed. Although she finally turned her face toward me, she would still not look at me.

“I suggest we do nothing,” I answered.

“That’s your plan?” Ava pinched her face with annoyance.

“If they attack us, we’ll defend ourselves,” I coaxed.

“They’re bullies. They attack people who can’t fight back. Now we can. We’re older and more powerful. So, I say we call their bluff. We go on with our lives. Best case scenario, they give up, too afraid to try anything. If they do come after us, we’ll be ready. We’ll fight.

Let’s see if it comes to that.”

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“I have a better plan,” Jason said from the shadows. “You three Travel. I will stay here and take care of this family that killed my sister and my mother.”

“No,” I said. “No more killing.”

“You just don’t want me to hurt your boyfriend,” Jason yelled. He took a step forward. His fists sparked.

“You will not touch Marc,” I screamed back. The walls rattled.

There was silence. We all stood still.

My father turned from the fireplace slowly. He looked directly at his three children. His expression was wise and thoughtful.

“We will stay, for now,” he agreed, to my relief.

Jason and Ava began spitting out protests.

“Enough,” said Dad in a soft but undeniably definitive voice.

Ava’s mouth snapped shut disapprovingly. She demurely seated herself back on the edge of the couch and crossed her ankles.

Jason remained standing.

“If we do this, we need extra precautions,” Jason said, immediately turning to strategy mode. “We will start with protection spells aimed specifically at them. Knowing who they are will make the spells more effective. If that does not work, we will escalate to power binding.”

“Can you do that?” I asked.

“It is very difficult to do it completely, especially without getting close to them,” Dad answered.

“If we bind their powers, then we really are free. Their line will be impotent,” Jason said as though bells were going off in his head.

“I don’t know,” Ava scoffed. “It’s not like it worked wonders with Dagny.”

“Ava,” Jason yelled.

“What?” Ava shrugged, smugly. “Dad just told her everything else. We’re not going to tell her this?” On some level she seemed to be enjoying this part.

“I think you need to explain, immediately,” I said, fuming.

“Ava is right. Dagny wanted to know everything,” Dad noted.

Jason opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again.

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“Dagny,” Dad began. “I told you we had to hide you because of your power. So, the first time you Traveled, we decided to bind your powers. It is not an easy spell to execute. We have to perform it again every time we Travel. It takes the entire family. Without your mother, it was less successful.”

“Undo the spell right now,” I said.

I tried to hold my emotions steady. The house betrayed me.

The walls quaked. Glasses clinked, pictures rattled.

“The only way to break the spell is to Travel,” Dad said.

“How convenient,” I said, seething. “This reeks of you, Ava.” “You wanted the truth,” she answered, with a sniff.

“The truth is the spell is weaker this time. It is evident. You are more powerful. Your memory is better. Although you probably did not realize the differences,” Dad said, more to himself.

My rage went from simmer to boil. The ground started to shake in response.

“Dagny, please calm down,” he said, cautiously raising his hand in a gesture of calming.

They did this to me. My own family was the reason I felt like a perpetual child.

“You’re telling me my memory problems are because of what you’ve done to me?”

It was all I could do not to blow up the entire room, or the house, or the block…

“Magic and power help retain memory when you Travel. By limiting those, yes, we limited your memory,” Dad admitted. He was aware of the severity of his transgression, unlike Jason and Ava. “Do you know how awful it is? To not feel like a whole person? To not remember who you are?”

“I will try to find another way to lift the binding,” he promised.

“If you can’t, my choices are to stay in this crippled body or move.”

He placed his hand on mine. I quickly pulled it away.

All these lies and betrayals were coming from my own family. It was more than I could handle. It was time to talk to Marc.

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Marc “I’m fine, Mom,” I said. But I wasn’t fine. That was power like I’d never felt before and I could barely control it. It scared me.

“Is that why we aren’t supposed to use blood magic?”

She stood next to me and looked out the window at the fallen tree.

“That tree was a tame response from nature. You must have used just a little bit of blood,” she said. She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.

“Only a little bit of blood and I felt that much power?”

“Blood magic is very powerful,” she said.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use it. The Libri Dea says it’s forbidden,” I said. “Where did you even get that book?”

“Benjamin gave it to me. He said blood magic is only forbidden because so few can control it. So the Aradnians decided to ban it. He said many still use it in secret, though and as long as we are careful, we can use it too.”

“Is that what you used to kill the Possessor?” I asked, turning to look at her.

She looked away.

“I know you don’t approve. But, Benjamin says we have to find and destroy them.”

“Benjamin says,” I repeated, skeptically. “Do you do everything Benjamin says?”

She looked at me. Her eyes were wide and innocent. She reminded me of a lamb.

“He brought me back to life,” she said, dramatically. “He showed me I am unique. I am powerful. I never felt this way with your father. I just felt ordinary.”

She shouldn’t have to kill people to feel good about herself.

But, there was no point in trying to reason with her. Benjamin had some sort of hold over her. She would say it was love. I knew love now. Real love shouldn’t be like that.

“Mom, tell me the truth,” I said. “You said we are warring with this one family? Why? Can’t you just stop?”

There was something missing from this story. Dagny’s family was running from us, not chasing us.

She crossed her arms around her chest as though she was hugging herself and looked down at the floor.

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“Benjamin doesn’t want me to tell you this,” she whispered.

“We can’t stop. There is a girl in that family who isn’t just any Possessor. She controls the power of the Goddess. We have to destroy her.”

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Chapter 23

Marc People rushed by me, waving, nodding. It was almost twenty-four hours ago when I lost her. I needed to get her back.

Cody wandered slowly through the parking lot toward the double doors at the back of the school, where I was standing. He’d shaved most of his head. Now he had a short, green mohawk. He wore ripped jeans and a plaid shirt.

“You coming in?” Cody said when he reached me.

“Yeah, in a minute,” I said.

“You waiting for someone?” he asked.

I’d wanted to tell Cody everything about Dagny for a long time. I didn’t like keeping secrets from my best friend. There was a whole part of my life I couldn’t tell him about. It was frustrating.

“Not really, just need to borrow some notes from this guy in my math class,” I said, lying. It made me feel sick.

“Cool. See you at lunch.” Cody gave me a fist bump and walked into the school.

The bell rang.

My heart sank. There was no sign of Dagny. Did she change her mind about staying?

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Class was about to start. I ran inside and slipped into my seat just before the second bell rang. I looked around to see if she’d snuck inside without me noticing. The desk where she usually sat was empty.

Suddenly, my chest tightened, as if a fist had wrapped around my insides and wrenched me toward something hollow and dark. I looked to the front of the room. The pull to darkness was coming from the man sitting behind the teacher’s desk. He was not our Chemistry teacher. Who was this guy?

The man had dark rusty hair, the color of dry blood, and dark eyes. His neck was so thick it looked like he had no chin. The rest of his body was just as dense and hard looking.

There was an empty desk in the front row. I grabbed my bag and moved up. My chest squeezed tighter.

He wore a collared shirt with no tie and one button open in the front. There was a black string around his neck peeking out from under his shirt. It was some sort of rudimentary necklace.

He leaned forward to stand and I saw it fully. The necklace had a glass vial with some sort of liquid inside. There was a symbol etched into it. It looked like five triangles in a circle with their tips pointing outwards. Aiden wore a necklace with the same symbol. It protected him against my magic. This one was different somehow. I couldn’t sense Aiden’s protective amulet. But I could sense this talisman. It practically strangled me with its presence. Was it more powerful?

He wrote his name on the chalkboard—Mr. Smith.

The door flew open. Dagny ran into the room. He turned and his eyes narrowed on her. She mumbled an apology. He looked her up and down wantonly. I wanted to jump up and punch him in the face.

She sat down in an empty seat two rows to my left. Mr. Smith stared at her.

He said something to the class. I didn’t listen. I was too busy trying to get Dagny’s attention. She finally turned.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“After class, my car,” she whispered back.

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Mr. Smith The first bell rang. The children scurried inside the room. I watched each enter, waiting to see her face. One after the next entered, none were her. Dagny was listed on the roster for this class.

It was possible I had the wrong high school. There were not very many Dagny’s in this world. Still, it was possible this was not the right Dagny or she sensed the danger and ran, like they’d done so many times before.

Beneath the rustle of papers, there was an undercurrent of adolescent uneasiness. The kids looked around as though they needed to glean their identities from one another. The idea this was the future, these sycophantic, aching-heart children, filled me with dread. They did not know what it meant to suffer or strive every day toward a single goal. These meek did not deserve to inherit the earth.

I would make sure they didn’t.

A tall, dark haired child moved to the front row and stared at me. His eyes were focused and narrow. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he might be trying to make my head explode with his mind. I chuckled. Children had such ridiculous authority issues.

I stood at the front of the room and wrote my name on the chalkboard—Mr. Smith. I was their substitute teacher. Humans were so easy to manipulate. One sickness spell and a few persuasion spells and I am a teacher. It was pathetic.

My preoccupation with the irritating boy was abandoned when she burst into the classroom.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.

Her eyes were affixed on the floor. Her sweater fell off her shoulder. She reached to fix it. It just fell again seconds later. To keep calm, I dug my nails into my leg. Sharp splinters of pain shot into five points on my thigh. I relaxed into the aching sensation.

The aroma of her strawberry hair wafted into my nostrils. I suppressed a low lingering chill that tickled my loins.

Fulfillment of my quest was so close. The knife, tucked away in my ankle holster, burned against my skin. I had to wait and watch.

It had to be the right time and place. I could not be hasty.

“Good morning class,” I said, clearly. “I’m Mr. Ellis Smith.

Mr. Collins is sick. I’m going to call roll. Please say ‘here’ when your name is called.”

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I listed the names of the students, using surnames to establish dominance. Maryam. Here. Neal. Here. Marc. The venom in his voice when he said ‘here’ was noticeable. His authority issues were not my concern. Maria. Here. Ella. Here.

Her name was written on the paper in front of me. I rolled the epithet quietly over my tongue. I saved it for last.

“Oh, and I seemed to have missed one, Dagny,” I called.

“Here,” she said.

I’d found her.

Dagny I stood first. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed. We walked silently out of the classroom. Robotically, we weaved through the crowd and headed to the back exit. Marc held the door for me and we went to the parking lot. When we reached my car, Marc opened the driver’s door and I scooted into the front seat. He then slipped into to the passenger side.

We both stared at the school through the windshield. I tugged on my scarf. He waited patiently for me to speak first. I had to speak fast or else I’d lose my nerve.

“Marc,” I said, without looking at him. “I know you couldn’t have killed my mother. You didn’t have your powers yet. You didn’t even know you were a witch then, right? But, you figured it out afterward and you kept the truth from me.”

“Yes,” he said.

“It was your Stepfather?” I asked.

“I think my Mom helped him,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

“But he was the mastermind. My mother never would have done something like this before he came along.”

“Your sister?” I wondered.

“She didn’t know what they were trying to do until after it happened. I know she seems dark. But she could never hurt anyone.”

This was a lot to process. My stomached jumped with anxiety and a longing for him to touch me again.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong not to tell you the truth as soon as I saw you again,” Marc said, plainly. He didn’t try to defend himself.

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His voice was so sincere, no more explanation was needed. “Do you forgive me?”

I bit my lip.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“OK,” he said, relief in his voice. “Dagny, I love you.”

Those three words were not spoken like a lustful teenager with some warped sense of affection. My body trembled.

“I love you, too.”

He grabbed my face between his palms. His lips pressed to mine. The rest of the world melted away. Reality could wait. Reality sucked right now anyway.

He reached his arm around my back and pulled me closer.

The touch of his fingers felt like little electric currents running through me. He moved his lips to my ear. My pulse raced, my body hummed.

Then he stopped.

“What is it?” I demanded. He was still holding me. The pressure of his hands felt substantial.

He let me go gently.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Why? Listen, you didn’t hurt my mother, right? You said you didn’t even know about what they were doing. I told my family I’m not leaving. As long as your family stops coming after us, we don’t have any issue.”

“That’s the problem, Dagny, they aren’t going to stop,” he said. His voice was serious. His face was grave. Marc was witty and sarcastic. He made me laugh and smile. Sure, he was serious sometimes but he never looked like this.

“What do you mean?” My voice cracked.

“Do you know the prophecy about the power of the God and Goddess returning to earth?” he said.

“Yes.” I gulped. “Why?” “They aren’t just after all Possessors. They only care about one. They won’t stop because they have vowed to destroy the Power of the Goddess,” he said. “They know it’s near. My stepfather is obsessed with finding it. I know it’s you.”

I was stunned silent. I didn’t know what to say.

“There’s more,” Marc said. His voice grew quiet.

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He looked at me. His steel blue eyes were turned down at the edges, the way they did when he either smiled or frowned.

“My parents think I have the power of the God,” he said.

The memory rocketed back into my brain. My mother and I were standing in the pond. She was holding me. I was crying.

“It’s not true,” I said to her. “Please, no.”

“It’s hard, I understand,” she said. “The darkness is coming.

This is what has to be. I’ve protected you as long as I could. The spirits told me where he is. You must go to him now. Don’t be afraid of the prophecy,” she said.

“I don’t care about some stupid prophecy. I just want to be with you,” I cried in the memory.

“It’s hard to understand. You’re only 13 in this body and you don’t remember much of your lives before. But you’ll be more grown up in your next body. You’ll remember more,” she said.

“Why?” “Because I will be gone,” she said. “Even if your father performs the spell to bind your powers, it will not be as powerful without me.”

“Why will you be gone?”

“I’m going to die,” she said. She said it so gently.

My chest heaved and I sobbed harder. I buried my face in her long, dark hair.

“It’s OK,” she said, soothingly. She stroked my head. “Don’t tell the rest of the family. They will try to stop it.”

“I want to stop it,” I said.

“You can’t. I am only telling you because I hope it will help you remember what I’ve told you.”

My legs wobbled and my mother held me close to keep me standing.

“Dagny, my love, I’ve had a long time on this earth. Don’t cry for me. I’m only sad that I didn’t get more time with you. But I will always be with you.”

Her voice was thin. I looked up at her face and a tear stretched down her cheek. She pushed my bangs back and kissed my forehead.

“Mom, don’t leave me. I love you,” I said, sobbing.

“You are strong,” she said. “You will be OK.” “No, I’m not.”

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She held my face in her palms.

“You are. Now, it’s time for you to find him. You need him.

The battle has to happen. It is the only way to stop the darkness that’s coming for you.”

“What if I don’t know who he is?”

“You’ll know him. He’ll make you feel whole.”

The vision came to an abrupt end. A tear streaked down my cheek.

Oh my Goddess.

Jillian The small office was stuffy. I hugged a corner near the door.

My mother stood in the other corner. Her long, silk robe flowed to the floor. Her hair curled down around her shoulders and her skin shined from oils and creams.

“So, we just don’t care that I have school any more I take it?” I said. “I might as well just drop out or get my GED at this rate.”

Benjamin sat at his large mahogany desk. It took up half the room. It was the nicest thing in the house. In fact, everything in this room was nicer than the rest of the house. These were his things.

The rest of the house contained our things. I’d never noticed this before. He lived with us but he kept himself separated.

“This is more important than school,” he said, leaning back in his ergonomic chair. He didn’t even have a computer. Why did he need a desk? “Your mother has done something she shouldn’t have.”

“Wow, for once it wasn’t me?” I said.

Mom turned her head away, refusing to look at us.

“She told Marc about the prophecy,” he said.

“Good,” I responded.

“No, it is not good,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Do you think your brother will let someone else die for him?” Benjamin said.

He leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. His amber eyes narrowed on me.

“No,” I said, instinctively. Oh. 236

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“He will try to prevent us from finding the power of the Goddess. He already tried to bind our powers before he knew about the prophecy. Now he knows we are after one Possessor in particular and it is all to protect him. He won’t let us do that. We must find her and we must find her now.”

He took out five candles and placed each one down on the floor. He was going to draw a pentagram. He wanted to do the spell again, the one that killed the last Possessor.

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry. I can’t kill someone, not even to save Marc. There has to be another way.”

Benjamin glared at me. His eyes burrowed down into my bones. They quaked in response. I could feel his power. He could annihilate me.

“Ben, honey, let me talk to her,” Mom said.

“There will be no more talking. Jillian will do as she is told or there will be consequences,” he said.

The way he said consequences made me think getting turned into a toad would be the best-case scenario. But I wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t right.

“No,” I said, firmly.

He took two steps toward me. His nose was inches from mine. We were the same height and still I felt like I was three inches tall.

“Ben,” Mom squeaked.

He put his hand on my shoulder. Pain rocketed through my body, like my insides were being torn apart. I screamed.

“Stop it,” Mom yelled.

“This is nothing compared to what it will feel like if you are in a battle for your life. That is what will happen if the power of the God and Goddess reunite,” he said to me.

His phone rang shrilly in his pocket. He let go of my shoulder. I grabbed it and stumbled backward. My mother rushed over and held me.

Without taking his harrowing eyes off of me, he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

“What?” he said.

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Her face was white like a ghost and a tear stretched down her cheek.

“Dagny, are you OK?” I said.

She didn’t say anything. She stared through the windshield at the school. It was as though she was somewhere else.

“Dagny?”

She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. She looked like a doll.

“Dagny,” I said, louder.

Slowly, she turned her face to look at me. Her sunflower eyes shook.

“We’re the prophecy,” she said. “It’s true.”

“Dagny, I know my stepfather thinks that. But there is something off about him.”

I’d recently started to wonder about Benjamin. He came into our life so suddenly. My mother was his only focus. Before him she was too preoccupied with her wrinkles to care about finding and destroying some witch she’d never met, prophecy or no prophecy.

“Marc, my Mom told me about us. I didn’t remember before.

But, when you said it, the memory came back. Before I came here, she said it was time and I shouldn’t be afraid of the prophecy. She said I would know you. You would make me feel whole. It’s true.

That’s how I feel around you, like I was missing something or broken and now I’m not.”

“I feel the same way, too,” I told her.

“She died protecting me, protecting us.”

Another tear dropped down her cheek. I curved my fingers under her jaw and wiped it away with my thumb. More began to spill out.

“Dagny, what can I do?” I said, feeling helpless.

“I don’t know. We need to figure out how to stop this. I don’t want to start some battle to decide the fate of all witches,” she said.

“I don’t either. But…” I stopped.

“What?”

“The teacher today,” I said, wondering if she noticed him.

“The substitute chemistry teacher?” she said. “He gave me the creeps. What does he have to do with this?”

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” I asked.

“I thought I was imagining it,” she said.

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“You weren’t. There’s something about him. He had this protection amulet. But it’s more than just that. There’s a darkness around him, that’s the only way I can explain it.”

“Did you say darkness?” she said.

“Why?” “My mother said darkness is coming for me.”

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Chapter 24 Dagny Scrape. Scrape. Smack. Scrape. Scrape. Smack.

That was the sound of cheerleaders practicing jumps on the track. Bounce, bounce, kick legs up, drop to the ground. Over and over, Lily was relentless at practice. It was rhythmic and oddly soothing. I liked repeating the same drill over and over. It was a physical fatigue and not mental. These days I liked that much better.

“Take a five minute break. Then we need to practice the dance,” Lily commanded. “And don’t forget about extra practice in the morning before school tomorrow and Thursday. We have a huge game on Friday. It’s Homecoming. We have to be perfect.”

Brooke and I collapsed to the ground. My legs felt like jello.

At least all the exercise kept me warm.

“No sister today?” Brooke said.

I shook my head.

“That’s a first,” she said. “You make her mad or something?”

I shrugged, trying to be noncommittal. I really didn’t want to talk about my family problems.

“Well, whatever you did, you should do it more often,” Brooke said, jokingly.

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I grabbed my cheerleading duffle bag and started rifling through it.

“You OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

I shoved clothes and shoes from side to side. Where was my water bottle?

“Well, you don’t usually talk much but right now you’re basically mute. You’re also strangely angry with your bag. Seems like something’s up. Are you looking for this?”

She held up my water bottle, which was sitting behind me the whole time.

“Yes, thank you.” I took a swig.

Although Brooke was the closest thing I had to a best friend, at any moment I might have to leave. I shouldn’t get too attached.

Unfortunately, it was probably too late for that.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. Just, you know, I’m here if you want to talk,” Brooke said.

I desperately wanted to talk to someone about Marc and I couldn’t talk to my family. Brooke was just a human. She couldn’t hurt me. I could tell her about Marc and find a way to leave out the Wicca stuff, right?

“There’s this thing,” I said.

“Is it Marc?” she said.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh come on, Dagny. You stare at each other in the halls. It’s completely obvious you’re into each other.”

Mr. Smith The right side of the classroom was a block of long windows looking out onto the football field. It was ideal for watching her. I leaned back in my chair and twisted a pencil in my fingers.

She was jumping in unison with a group of other girls. They were dressed in matching gray sweat suits with the letters FCHS printed on the front.

The knife attached to my ankle buzzed with energy. It wanted to cut her open. So did I. I burned with the desire to fulfill my destiny.

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First, I needed to get her to a secluded place. It would take immense power and concentration to subdue her and perform the ritual. I couldn’t have distractions.

Dagny stopped jumping and dropped down to the ground.

She sat close to another girl, slightly removed from the rest of the group. They whispered intimately. I’d followed Dagny through the halls between classes and observed her at lunch. This was the girl she gravitated toward. There was another one, a waif with dark curly hair. But it was this one, with sturdy legs and stick straight hair, she was Dagny’s true confidant.

Kidnapping Dagny outright wasn’t an option. Someone might see. Her family would attack. No, she needed to come to me and willingly hide it from her family.

My phone beeped. It was him.

I stood up and walked out of the room.

Marc The halls were clear. Everyone either went home or to their afterschool activities. My afterschool activity today was to watch Mr. Smith.

I glanced quickly through the narrow rectangle window of the classroom door. He was sitting back in his chair, twirling a pencil in his fingers and staring out the window. Even from outside the room I could feel the blackness surrounding him. If I got too close it felt like I would be sucked into it.

I stood beside the window so he could not see me and I tried a simple spell to test the limitations of his protective amulet. The warm sensation of power flooded into my body. I pulled it toward my core. It was easy now to connect to the elements and center them. My powers grew almost exponentially every day and when I was with Dagny they were even greater.

I imagined the pencil flying out of his hand. Nothing happened. It was as though the power hit a wall.

His amulet was strong, much stronger than Aiden’s. There had to be something about the liquid in the glass vial that made the protective powers of the amulet stronger. I needed to get the necklace off him.

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Mr. Smith suddenly swiveled around and stood up. I jumped to my right and hid between a break in the lockers. The door opened and he walked away down the hallway. I waited until I was sure he wouldn’t notice me and then I left my hiding place.

He turned at a corner, heading toward the center of the school. I hung back and tried to walk lightly. Smith paused. I leapt into the nearest alcove and pressed myself against the wall. After a few seconds, I heard his shoes tap against the floor again.

I peered out from behind the block of lockers. Smith pulled out his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. A moment later he put it back in his pocket. He stopped again right at the junction of two hallways. He was looking at something.

He started talking. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. There was someone there, someone I couldn’t see. I needed to get closer.

Smith nodded. Then he spun around and walked out the back doors to the school.

I stepped out of the alcove and started racing toward the hallway intersection. It took me only a few seconds to reach it. I skidded to a stop just before the hallway curved to the right.

Carefully, I craned my neck to look into the next hallway.

A small man was walking briskly toward the front of the school. I couldn’t see his face. He wore a brown shirt and khaki pants. He had medium brown hair.

Wait, I knew that hair. I knew that walk.

Was that my Stepfather?

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Chapter 25

Dagny I stuffed my red fluffy pompoms into my red duffle bag, along with my matching red water bottle. Brooke handed me my towel to complete the set. I ran my fingers across the FCHS Cheerleading emblem on my bag. It felt nice to be a part of something.

I squeezed the two sides of my bag together and zipped it up.

We all had the same bag. Only mine was so full I could barely close it.

Lily bounced over, her curly ponytail whipped back and forth.

“Don’t forget practice tomorrow morning, 6 am. Don’t be late,” Lily said.

“Have we ever let you down?” Brooke said. “We know how much Homecoming means to you.”

“You guys are the best.” She pulled us both in for a hug.

“See you guys later.”

She bounded off to chase after one of the football players who just finished practice.

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The part of me that wanted to be normal ached to go to Homecoming. I wanted to dress up and get my hair done for the dance. I wanted Marc to pick me in his car and my family to take pictures. That would never happen. Things were too complicated and too witchy for anything normal. At least I’d get to be part of the parade and the game.

With a silent sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulders. Brooke picked up hers.

“You need a ride home?” I asked her.

“Sure,” she said.

Aching and sore from practice, we walked silently to the parking lot.

“Well, what a surprise,” Brooke said, pointing a shoulder forward.

Marc leaned against my car with his arms crossed. His thick dark hair waved in the breeze. My body shivered with excitement.

“Hey Marc,” Brooke said. She gave me a knowing look.

“See you guys later.”

“Wait, how are you going to get home?” I said.

“I’ll figure it out.” Brooke winked and walked off in the direction of the school.

Marc waved to Brooke and then lifted the duffle bag off my shoulder.

“What do you have in here, bricks?” he said. He opened the back door of the car and gently tossed the bag inside.

“It’s not that heavy. Maybe you just need to hit the gym,” I said.

Marc smiled absently. He obviously wasn’t listening.

Normally, he would have a witty response to my comment. His attention was focused on Brooke. He silently watched her shrink into the distance for several long minutes. Finally, he turned to me and leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Listen, I followed that teacher, Mr. Smith,” he said.

“What do you mean you followed him? You said he was wearing a protective amulet and magic didn’t work on him. What if he saw you? You can’t even defend yourself.”

He lifted his arm at a right angle, made a fist and pointed to his muscle. “Who needs a gym when you have these,” he said.

“Very funny, that won’t help against magic,” I said.

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I couldn’t stand the idea of him getting hurt.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t see me. But, listen, I saw him talking to my stepfather.”

“Your stepfather? What was your stepfather doing here?”

“I don’t know. Jillian’s been missing a lot of school. They could have called my parents and asked them to come in or something,” Marc said. “Why would he be talking to Mr. Smith, though?”

“Maybe they just bumped into each other and he needed directions to the bathroom or something,” I suggested.

“I don’t know. This Smith guy shows up out of nowhere and he maybe knows my stepfather. Something’s not right. Listen, there’s this Occolta Atheneum. Have you heard of it?”

“No, what is it?” I asked.

“It’s this magical library. I think it’s only an Aradnian thing.

It has all this information about all Aradnians. I’m going to try to access it. It’s supposed to be really hard to do. Maybe I can find something out. If my stepfather knows Smith, he might be an Aradnian.”

“OK. Be careful.”

He put his hands on my shoulders, leaned down and kissed me deeply.

“You need to be careful, too. My stepfather is obsessed with finding you. If this Mr. Smith knows who you are he could have told my stepfather.”

“We don’t even know that they know each other at all. This could be a coincidence,” I said, even though my heart was racing.

“We can’t take any chances. I’m going to drive you home.

You need to stay there. Don’t leave. Stay with your family until I figure this out. Promise me.”

He was scaring me.

“I promise,” I said. “Call me as soon as you find something, even if it’s late at night.”

“I will,” he said.

He opened the passenger door and I got inside. My hands shook. I pressed them against my legs.

“Are you OK?” he asked as he turned on the car.

“I’m fine.” I lied.

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Marc I waited until my family was asleep. I didn’t want to risk them walking in on me. The spell to access the library required a wood surface and water, which was simple enough. I wasn’t even sure I needed these tools. In the last few days, I’d been able to perform several spells without tools or words, like Dagny explained to me.

This was the first time I was accessing the Occolta Atheneum, however, and I needed it to work. I decided to follow the instructions in the Libri Dea exactly, just to be safe.

My desk was made of oak. It could serve as my wood surface. I cleared off the computer and comics. Next, I took a glass of water and poured some on the desk. It started to spread immediately.

Following the directions, I cupped my hands around the liquid and called on the element of air to hold it into place. The air whipped and snapped. Heat filled my body as I focused on the invisible particles to create a field around the water and hold it in the shape of a circle. The energy from the air seeped into my hands and formed a blockade around the water. I took my hands away and the water stayed in the shape of a perfect sphere.

Then, I chanted the words “Educ foras verbum.” The water shook. Everything else stayed still. In fact, there was an eerie quiet to the whole room.

With my index finger I drew a circle inside the water over and over again, seventeen times. On the seventeen th time, tiny, illegible words appeared in the water.

I dipped my fingertip back into the pool of liquid. Suddenly, information burst into my brain. It felt like I was downloading terabytes data from a Wiccan “data cloud” by the second.

But I had no way of processing it. The information moved and shifted constantly and I couldn’t grab hold of anything long enough to understand it. I felt like Professor X from the X-men the first time he put on Cerebro, his psyche-enhancing helmet.

I took a breath and focused my mind on his name—Ellis Smith. Suddenly, the information sped up its motion like electrons in a particle accelerator. The words moved faster and the data became 247

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clearer. Key words jumped out, words that were similar—Ellis Island, Ellis Small, Smithtown. There was no Ellis Smith.

I tried a different name—Benjamin Michaelson. The information spun quicker. Key words popped out again. Then I saw it, his name. Like a lion springing on his prey, my mind jumped to catch it.

The magical file opened up and there he was, my Stepfather.

His name, date of birth, location of birth and there was a picture. It was strange to see a picture of his face in my mind. He looked different. He was younger. He had to be seventeen at the time, when he awakened. It wasn’t just that, however.

Oh my God. His eyes, they weren’t bright amber. They were dark, dark brown.

I grabbed the phone. It was late, after 4 in the morning.

I dialed Dagny.

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Chapter 26

Dagny It’s time. It’s happening, Dagny.

My mother whispered to me but her mouth didn’t move. She wandered through the pond with the other translucent Spirits. They all watched me, indifferently, as they walked. The water was still.

It’s time to wake up, Dagny.

A shrill tone rang through the dream. I shot up in bed.

My phone was ringing. I grabbed it without looking.

“Marc?”

The room was dark. It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at things.

“This is not Marc.”

The voice spilled out over the phone like bitter molasses and stuck inside my ear.

“Who is this?” I said.

“This is Ellis Smith. We met today in class. I was your substitute teacher.”

“You’re not a teacher,” I said. “You’re a witch.”

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“Yes, I am. You need to come to me,” he said. His voice was slick.

“Why would I do that?” I said.

“Because I have your friend, Brooke, and if you don’t, I will kill her.”

My stomach dropped and the world started to spin.

“Here Brooke, say something so she knows I’m not lying.”

There was a second of silence.

“Dagny? What’s happening?” Brooke said. Her voice trembled with fear.

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” I yelled into the phone.

“Come here, now,” he said. “Don’t tell your family. Don’t tell anyone. Come alone or I will kill her.”

“Where?” I croaked. I shook uncontrollably with anger. How dare he threaten Brooke. I had to save her. The heat inside me swelled from my limbs straight into my core. I was going to kill him.

“There’s an old farmhouse on the edge of Manassas Battlefield Park. Approximately a half-mile after the red brick house, you’ll see the sign for the Lovelace Farm. Meet me there.

Now.” I closed my eyes and stretched like a rubber band. An instant later, I was staring at a small, red brick house. In front of it an old stone wall ran parallel to the road. It was my only companion until I saw the sign in the darkness. Broken and peeling, it read “Lovelace.”

I walked up a long gravel driveway lined with evergreens.

Ahead there was a gray mass of a house. In the shadows of dawn, it gave the impression of the last foothold of darkness on the edge of light. The rotting and decrepit porch sagged as though it would buckle beneath a strong wind.

Although my impulse was to throw open the front door and attack, I couldn’t. Magic didn’t work on Smith. I needed to get Brooke to safety first. Then, I’d kill him. I’d figure out a way.

Slowly, I pushed open the faded white door. It creaked sharply. As I stepped inside, a line of flickering candles on the floor guided me into a dark room. Their eerie light danced off the walls.

“I’m glad you came,” Smith said, intimately, as he stepped out of the shadows.

“Where’s Brooke?” I demanded.

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He motioned to a corner, where there was a barely noticeable form in the darkness. As I moved closer, I saw it was Brooke. She was curled up with her legs tucked into her chest and her head on her knees. Ropes bound her ankles and hands together. I rushed over to her.

“Brooke,” I called as I crouched down and shook her. Her head fell to the side. Her eyes were closed and she was gagged with a strip of white cloth. I shook her again. She didn’t wake up. “What did you do to her?”

“I gave her a potion to make her unconscious. She will wake up eventually or if I want her to.”

I stood slowly and faced him, intentionally blocking Brooke with my body.

“Why don’t you just try to kill me now and let’s get this fight over with,” I said.

I burned with anger and power.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said. He pulled out his amulet.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a fight. You have a lot of power but so do I, he gave it to me.”

“Who?” “The Viator, the Ancient One, he showed me how to use blood magic to be more powerful than any other witch. This vial is filled with his blood. You can’t hurt me. You can try if you like.”

I would like.

I planted my feet firmly on the ground and let all the elements rush inside me. Heat rose up through my toes. Electricity zipped up and down my arms. The air around me danced with energy making my hair whipped around me wildly.

I channeled this power to a central point. It was hot and unstable. It thrashed like a caged beast waiting to be unleashed. I threw my hand forward. A bolt of energy shot out. The power emanating from me could have leveled a building.

The fiery beam hit Smith directly in the chest. He didn’t move.

My insides turned cold. The raging beast was quickly replaced with fear.

“See, I told you. I’m protected from magic with the amulet.

His blood heightens my power. I used it on the spell to hide this house and you.”

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“What do you mean?”

“No one will find you. No one will come save you. I’ve hidden you from them and soon it will all be over.”

Uh oh.

Jason The phone rang again. It was the third time. I threw off my blanket and walked downstairs. It was still ringing. It was early, too early for calls. As I realized this, panic crept in at the edge of my mind.

“What?” I snapped into the phone.

“Um, Jason? It’s Lily. I’m sorry to call so early. Dagny promised she’d be at practice today by 6:00 am sharp. It’s 6:15 and she’s not here. Brooke isn’t either. They both aren’t answering their phones. So, I wanted to try your house. I’m sorry I woke you up. I really need them to come to practice, though,” she said.

I hung up the phone without responding to Lily and ran upstairs. I threw open the door to Dagny’s room. It was empty.

“Dagny,” I yelled, running through the house.

Ava came out of her room. She rubbed her eyes. My father yawned in his doorway.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Dagny’s missing.”

Marc I shook my head and pushed myself away from my desk. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep. My phone was ringing. I put it to my ear.

“Hello?” I said, groggily.

“Where is she?” a deep voice demanded.

“Who is this?”

“This is Jason, Dagny’s brother. She’s missing. I know she’s with you and you two are doing something to block us from finding her.” His voice was low and angry. He almost sounded like an animal.

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“Jason, be calm,” another voice came on the line. “Marc, this is Dagny’s father. If she is with you we are not upset. We just want to make sure she is alright.”

I shot up. My chair fell backward and banged against the floor.

“Dagny’s not with me,” I said, panicking. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

“She did not go to practice this morning,” Mr. Bennet explained. “And she is not answering her phone. We also tried her friend, Brooke. She is not answering her phone either. Please, do not lie to me. I am worried. Just tell me she is with you.”

“She’s not with me,” I said. “But, I’m going to find her.”

I threw down the phone and barreled into my parent’s room.

I grabbed Benjamin by the feet and dragged him out of bed. He hit the floor with a thud.

“What are you doing?” he said, bewildered.

“Where is she?” I said. I snatched the collar of his flannel pajamas and shoved him up against the wall. My body surged with energy.

“Where is who?”

My mother sat up and looked around confused.

“Dagny. Why are you after her? Where did you take her? I know you’re a Possessor,” I yelled.

Jillian rushed in.

“What is all the yelling about?” Jillian said.

“Marc, don’t be silly,” Mom said. “Benjamin isn’t a Possessor.”

“I saw a picture of you when you were seventeen,” I said to Benjamin, “in the Occolta Atheneum. Your eyes were very dark brown.”

My stepfather’s light amber eyes narrowed at me coldly.

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Chapter 27

Jason My father bent over a chest in the corner. He was gathering a grouping of objects on the dining room table: herbs, candles, crystals, flowers, bowls and books.

“Why are you getting all that out?” I asked.

“Our normal powers are not working,” Dad explained. His voice sounded calm. But I’d known him for 400 years. He was scared. “You cannot find her with the locator spell. Ava cannot find her with a seeker spell. We need to try something else.”

“Let’s go to Marc’s house and drag it out of him,” I said.

That seemed like the best plan to me.

“I do not believe she is with him.”

“He’s an Aradnian. Of course he’d lie,” I said.

“Jason, we do not have time to be fooled by old prejudices.

Something very powerful is blocking us from finding Dagny. We need to focus on breaking through that barrier. To do so, we will need to use the most powerful spells and talismans we have.”

Ava stood at the head of the oblong dining room table. She set down a blue crystal and seven white candles. They moved and 257

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bubbled as though they were liquid. In the middle of the table was a large bowl of water. Cautiously, she placed the candles in a circle around the bowl. Then she dropped the crystal in the water.

She picked up a bouquet of dandelions. She was trying to connect with the spirit realm. Ava placed a dandelion at the center in the bowl and the others on the burning candles. The thin yellow petals instantly curved inward and disappear into smoke.

“Come here, everyone hold hands,” she instructed. She held out her upturned palm. The air smelled of burned flowers. I gave her my hand. Dad joined us. He took my hand and hers.

We formed a circle around the table. Ava closed her eyes.

She started muttering. This spell was difficult even for a Traveler.

When our mother, a water witch, communed with the spirits she sat for hours with her feet submerged. She waited patiently for them to reach out to her. Ava was trying to force a spirit to talk to her. This was a very different kind of spell and Ava was no water witch.

Worry weighed heavy in my gut.

Beneath her lids, Ava’s eyeballs moved frantically like she was in a highly active REM sleep. A draft swept around the room.

The flame on the candles flashed upwards. The water started to bubble.

I felt heat on my cheeks. The flames stretched out sideways like veins reaching, searching for each other. Finally, they connected and made an intricate matrix of fire. The labyrinthine-like structure encircled the bowl of water, which churned and frothed.

“Concentrate on Mom,” Ava commanded. “Say her name, Elisabeth.”

She wasn’t just trying to contact any spirit. She was trying to contact our mother.

“Elisabeth,” we whispered together.

A black fog formed in the center of the ring of fire.

“Help us,” Ava said.

The matrix exploded outward. The fog hit Ava in the chest. It knocked her to the floor. Her body was still. Her eyes were open wide and blank. I knelt down to check her pulse. My own stopped.

“She’s…,” I began to stammer.

Suddenly, she gasped. Her chest heaved. Her eyes roared to life.

“It’s not what it seems. Thomas…,” Ava said, breathless.

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“Ava you OK? What did you see?” I asked.

Ava blinked a few times. “We may be too late. Dagny is at some old house. I’m not sure where exactly. There’s more. Mom said something about Thomas,” Ava explained, with confusion, as she climbed to her feet.

“Thomas?” I said. “The jerk who forced us all to Travel?”

Marc “You got me,” Benjamin said, his amber eyes danced almost with pleasure. “Now put me down and we can talk about this.”

I pressed him harder against the wall.

“Stop it,” Mom yelled. She jumped out of bed and ran over to yank on my arm. It didn’t move. “Marc, have you gone completely insane?” she wailed.

Jillian grabbed my mother by the waist and pulled her away.

She writhed and flailed. “Let me go. Marc is going to kill him.”

“Marc, what are you doing?” Jillian said, as she held onto our mother.

“Tell me where she is,” I said to Benjamin, ignoring Jillian’s question. There was no time to explain.

“Put me down and I’ll tell you,” he said.

I dropped him. He straightened the front of his shirt and cleared his throat.

“I am a Possessor, it’s true,” he said, looking at my mother.

She gasped and slid through Jillian’s grasp and onto the floor.

“Where did you take her?” I clenched my fists. The heat in my core pulsed with anger.

“Who? The girl with the Goddess power? Dagny is her name? I didn’t take her,” Benjamin said.

“But you know where she is,” I said.

He took a step sideways. He was still within an arm’s reach of me.

“You’re too late to save her,” he said. His eyes lit up. He sprang toward the door like a tiny rodent. I swiped at him but only felt air. He was gone.

“Did he just teleport?” Jillian asked, bewildered.

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“No, no, impossible. He couldn’t do extremely advanced spells like that without the rituals or a talisman. He said he wasn’t powerful. That’s why he needed our power. Our bloodline was special,” Mom whined. She was on her knees shaking her head.

“Mom, he’s been playing you. He needed our bloodline so he could find the power of the Goddess. You need to accept the fact that your husband is not who you thought he was.”

“No, no,” she said. “There’s a misunderstanding.”

I didn’t have time to help her come to terms with this.

“Jillian, I have to go. Can you stay with her?”

“Marc, tell me what is going on,” Jillian said.

“I will, later. I promise. Right now I have to go.”

Jason Bang. Bang. Bang.

I rushed to the front door, hoping the person banging on it was Dagny. I threw it open. It was not.

“Get out of here,” I said as soon as I saw him on the front porch.

“I need to talk to you,” Marc said. “It’s important.”

“Let him in,” Dad commanded.

“He is our enemy,” I said, refusing to move.

“Jason, let him in now,” he repeated, his voice deepening.

I turned sideways so Marc could pass. I made sure to puff up my chest and force him to move around me.

“Mr. Bennet,” Marc said, nodding his head as a greeting. “I know you don’t trust me. You have to listen, though. My stepfather, Benjamin, he’s not an Aradnian. He’s a Possessor or a Traveler, I mean, sorry. Anyway, basically some other person has taken over the body of Benjamin Michaelson.”

“How do you know?” Dad said.

“His eyes,” Marc said. “I saw a picture of him when he was younger. His eyes were dark brown. My stepfather, or whoever is inside my stepfather’s body, has bright amber colored eyes.”

“Did you say amber?” Dad’s eyes widened. He looked at Ava. “Thomas had amber eyes. That’s what the vision meant,” Ava said, as if to answer a question she knew he was going to ask.

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“Thomas is dead,” I said. How was this possible?

“We always assumed so,” Dad noted. “We were wrong. He must have figured out we Traveled to escape him and Traveled himself so he could find us.”

Ava fell back into a dining room chair.

“Dad,” she said. Her eyes were like hard dark stones. “If he’s been following us all this time, he knows about Dagny. He knows she’s been born. That was what he always wanted, to control the power of the prophecy. He may be trying to kill us but he wants her for himself. That’s why he married Mom in the first place.”

“Where is he now?” Dad asked Marc, urgently.

“I don’t know,” Marc said. “I confronted him and he vanished, he teleported away.”

“We have to find Dagny now,” I said.

“How? Nothing has worked,” Ava said.

“She’s blocked? Like when she blocked me after you told her my family killed her mother?” Marc asked.

“Yes.” I wanted to take this boy’s head and crush it with my bare hands.

“I can find her. I can get to her,” Marc responded.

“You’re a seventeen-year-old Aradnian. What do you know that we don’t?” I said.

“I know I’m the other part of the prophecy,” Marc answered.

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Chapter 28

Marc Jason was stunned. His expression turned from rage to confusion.

“Get me a knife,” I instructed.

“You’re going to use blood magic to find her?” Ava said, shocked.

“It was the only thing that worked last time,” I explained.

Mr. Bennet didn’t argue. He went into the kitchen and returned with a large knife.

“I’m going to teleport to her,” I stated.

I pulled her ring out of my pocket and drew the blade across my palm. I would need more than a drop for this. The blood dripped down onto my fingers. I put her ring on. The power exploded.

Thunder clapped in the distance.

“This is dangerous,” Ava whispered.

Energy surged painfully through my body. It felt as though I was trying to keep a nuclear bomb from exploding inside me. I expected this. I channeled the power to my core, just like before, but faster. This time I was more in control.

“I’m going with you,” Jason said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

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“You’re going to piggy back off of my teleporting?”

“Oh, guess you didn’t know you could do that, Mr. Allpowerful God?” he responded, flatly.

“Wait, we must discuss this first. Perhaps we all should go,” Mr. Bennet interjected.

“You can’t be serious,” Ava said. “I don’t care if he has the power of 10 gods. He’s a baby. He will probably take us to the Mohave Desert. Then we’ll never find Dagny.”

I didn’t have time for bickering. I pictured Dagny’s face. My body started to stretch. It was a familiar feeling of being pulled through a narrow passageway. I was being boiled down to my essential elements. Then, suddenly, I was whole again.

Dagny He handed me a glass with a dark, thick liquid.

“What’s this?” I said.

“Take a sip,” he commanded.

“No,” I said.

“I can kill her without being near her.”

Smith looked at Brooke. Her eyes shot open, she screamed and shook violently as though she was being electrified.

“Stop it,” I yelled.

“Drink it,” he commanded.

I quickly swallowed the drink. It trickled down my throat.

Brooke stopped screaming. Her body was stiff with fear.

“Now back to sleep,” he said, gently, like he was talking to a young child. Her eyes closed again and she slumped back into a ball.

The liquid oozed through my body. I could feel it traveling through my veins. My limbs became numb. When it hit my brain I started to feel dizzy. I put my arm against the wall to steady myself.

“Come, this way. It’s a strong potion. It would kill most other witches. You’re not like most other witches, are you, Dagny?”

He led me by the arm to the couch. Suddenly, my knees buckled. Like a rag doll, I fell onto the edge of the sofa.

“Let me tell you my story, or rather our story. I was born on the exact same day as you 30 years ago.” He had the casual tone of a person telling a pleasant story of little consequence. “We were born in the same hospital. Our mothers shared a recovery room. The 264

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Viator sensed your birth. You and your family had already disappeared by the time he arrived. He found me instead. Because our mothers let us lay together in the same crib, I’d actually touched you. Our blood was connected. The Viator said it was what made me important. He told my mother I was meant for greatness. She gave me to him. He taught me to be powerful. He taught me how to track you. You see it was my destiny to find you and extract your power.

Now, together, Viator and I will use it to change the world.”

My vision was beginning to darken around the edges.

“Screw you. You can’t take my power,” I said.

My words had little weight.

“Take another sip,” he commanded. The cup slowly rose to my lips. This time, I refused. “Drink it,” he said, harshly.

He reached over and tilted the cup into my mouth. Liquid fell past my lips and onto my tongue. It dribbled down the sides of my mouth, spilling onto my chest. He reached over and wiped the drops off my bare skin. The room began to fade again.

“Oh, I can take your power,” he whispered in my ear.

He reached down to his ankle and pulled out a long knife.

“I’ve been perfecting this ritual my whole life. I use knives combined with symbols and blood to perform spells, each time learning and honing the skill in preparation for this day. This knife…” He held up a blade, it glinted in the rising sun seeping through the windows. “…was designed to take your soul and your power and store them. You see the symbol, the sun with two crescent moons surrounding it inside a triangle. That’s a symbol to take not just any power but specifically the souls with the Power of the God or Goddess. On the ivory handle I’ve carved an elaborate collection of additional symbols, all designed to hold that power in this knife for as long as needed.”

He ran his fingers up and down the handle, caressing it like a sacred object. Then he slid it back into his ankle holster.

I looked away. There was a piece of furniture directly in my line of sight. For some reason I thought if I could make this one item clear, I could overcome this miasma. My eyes narrowed. It was like looking through binoculars and turning the viewer to focus. Slowly, the form solidified. It was a table. Table. I said the word to myself silently.

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“You’ll never be able to take my soul out of this body.

You’re not strong enough,” I said, clearly. I didn’t know if he could or not. I just wanted to make him mad. If he was mad, maybe he’d make a mistake and I could figure out a way to get me and Brooke out of here.

“I think you haven’t had enough to drink,” he said, angrily.

“Here, let me help you.”

He stood up and tilted my head back. Unable to fight him, I jolted my head to the left and felt the liquid fall down my cheek.

“I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he said.

He grabbed a fist full of my hair, thrust my head backwards and poured the liquid into my mouth.

“Don’t make me do that again,” he stated.

I let out a cough. Involuntarily, my body became slack. The table faded. The lotus fruit seeped into my veins and circled toward my heart.

Something erupted inside me, a revolution that could not be quelled. A thing no nectar could keep down. He couldn’t do this to me. I would not let him.

“You’re crazy,” I asserted. “And you’ll be dead soon. Marc will find me.”

He gave a low chuckle. It had a tinge of worry. I felt a break in the darkness. He couldn’t hold me forever with his medallions and his potions.

“I recently learned about this boy and his power from the Viator. He won’t find you. The Viator has other plans for him.”

A rectangle of low light spread slowly through the small gap between the drapes.

“You need to lie down and sleep. We have a long trip,” he whispered.

Somehow I knew if my head rested on that lump at the end of the couch, it would be the last day I would be in this room, in this town, in this place, forever.

He grabbed my shoulders and lightly pushed me, thinking it would knock me over like a feather. It didn’t.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

I remained sitting.

Suddenly, pain rocked through my cheek and down my jaw.

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of my nose and the side of my lip. His full weight pinned me down to the couch. He pulled a knife from his shoe. The act was strangely juxtaposed against the tone of his voice, which tried to comfort me.

“Don’t be scared,” he purred.

My face was defiantly placid. If these were my last moments I wasn’t going to allow him to have them.

The sun completed its rotation into the morning sky and was beaming through the drapes. I noticed the way it highlighted tiny flecks of seemingly inconsequential dust in the air. My eyes watered. Above me, Smith was poised, dagger in hand.

Marc Jason and I stood in front of an old southern farmhouse that nature was well on its way to reclaiming. We stood at the base of the porch. Behind us a long gravel driveway stretched down a hill past a line of trees and ended at a distant road.

The house was in a small clearing. Another hill extended behind it. In every direction there was forest. Water trickled over a rock bed in the distance. The newly risen sun glinted off the dew on the grass. A slight mist hung in the air. It felt as though it was going to be an unnaturally warm day.

“You think she’s in there?” Jason nodded toward the inside of the house.

“She is,” I stated. “Go around back. I’ll go in here. Be careful.”

Jason disappeared around the corner as my fingers twisted the large brass door handle. I held the handle steady. Then with one swift motion, I threw it open.

Cautiously, I stepped into a small foyer that ended at a rickety wooden staircase. To the right was a dining room covered in white cloths. Each sheet was riddled with holes, exposing the surface underneath. The smell of snuffed candles, which lined the floor, mixed with the stale scent of mothballs.

“Marc?” I heard Jason whisper.

“Here,” I answered, in a hushed tone.

“No sign of anyone in the back,” Jason reported, as he walked through the dining room.

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“Nothing here either. The wax on those candles is still dripping and look at the footprints. Someone was just here,” I motioned to the floor. A thick coat of dust showed the house’s neglect and also several pairs of fresh footprints.

We followed the trail of candles and prints through a low doorway. I had to duck my head to make it through. Looking up, I stopped suddenly when I saw her.

Dagny’s body lay limply on an old couch. Her arm hung off the side exposing her hand to a beam of sunlight. Blood streaked across her face. I rushed over.

She was still in her pajamas. Her white t-shirt was torn and bloody. Lifting it, I saw a large gash in her abdomen, just below her navel. Blood seeped slowly down her pink flesh and dripped onto the white sheet covering the couch. Jason was talking to me. I heard nothing but the buzz of fear in my ears.

I knelt down beside her and quickly placed my hands over her wound. Gathering energy from the air, the earth, the sun, I willed the magic forces to enter every atom in my body.

I imagined her cells regenerating, growing and multiplying, just how she described healing a body. In my mind her blood coagulated, her bone marrow produced more cells. The tissue closed and fused. I envisioned her heart pumping blood to her body and her lungs taking in and expelling air. I willed her eyes to open.

That now familiar volcanic energy coursed through my hands. A dark light glowed beneath my skin as if my blood had turned into a radioactive, black ooze. The energy spread to Dagny, covering the entire area around the wound.

Suddenly, Dagny took a deep breath. Her eyes snapped open.

They were dark brown, nearly black. There was no hint of the sunflower hues.

“Jason?” I looked to him, hoping it didn’t mean what I thought it did.

“She’s not there anymore,” he confirmed, sinking to the floor.

“Maybe she Traveled?” I said.

My hand felt cold and empty, as if I were holding a bag of ice. The cold spread to the rest of my body.

“No, she wouldn’t, not without a body to go to,” he said.

“Plus, that’s not a mortal wound. She could heal that.”

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Jason shifted his eyes to the floor as he pulled out his phone put it to his ear. “She’s gone,” he told the phone and then dropped it.

There was a sudden snap of two pieces of wood smacking together. It was the back door. Jason looked at me and we both jumped to our feet.

Mr. Smith “I’ve got her,” I said into the phone. The knife in my hands pulsed with power greater than I’d ever known. I did it, just like he said I would.

“Excellent, Ellis,” the Viator said. “What did you do with the one you kidnapped?”

“I put her in the closet for now and locked her inside, in case she wakes up. Should I kill her?”

“No,” he said. “We may need her still. We can use her as leverage if someone comes after us,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir,” I responded.

“I will be there soon and we can take the girl and go.”

I closed the phone.

I heard a creak in the house. Someone was here.

Two voices whispered in the hall.

It couldn’t be the Viator already.

But he was coming soon. I couldn’t leave. I had to keep whomever this was busy until he arrived.

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Chapter 29

Marc Jason and I sprinted toward the sound. From the back of the house, I saw a figure running across the field. It was Mr. Smith.

We raced out the door.

Smith was headed to the forest. We had to catch him before he got to the trees or had enough time to stop and teleport.

Jason leapt ahead of me. The air around him crackled and hissed. Blue electric light shimmered around his body.

Despite my adrenaline-fueled swiftness, I couldn’t keep up with him. In an instant, he was within a few steps of Smith.

Jason crouched down and, like a jungle cat, sprang forward.

His mass appeared to double in mid-air as he shot toward his mark.

With his trajectory, Jason should have leveled Smith. Instead, he missed and landed several feet away.

Jason didn’t stop. In a matter of seconds, he was near Smith again. He took another inhuman-sized jump. This time there was no way Smith could escape. Suddenly, Jason hit an invisible wall that sent him flying backwards. He landed on his back, making a small cavity in the ground. Smith glanced back briefly and then returned his focus to the trees, never breaking stride.

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Jason quickly returned to his feet, shaking his head slightly. I rushed passed him.

As I watched Jason, I began to understand how he used magic to push his body beyond the presumed limits of nature. My legs were now whipping past each other at a speed I had never imagined possible. The air crackled and hissed around me. Soon, I caught up to Smith and reached forward to grab him. I felt a spasm of energy surge through me. A moment later I was on my back looking up at the clear blue sky.

Quickly, I caught my breath and pushed aside any disorientation. I didn’t have time for it. I wiggled my arms and legs.

They felt fine, no broken bones or pain.

Jumping to my feet, I restarted my pursuit. Jason and I exchanged places again. The tree line was growing closer. There was a reason Smith picked this location. He could easily hide in the thick brush and with the amulet on we had no magical way to locate him.

Once he was out of our sight, it would be over.

Jason reached him again and vaulted through the air. Within inches of Smith he was thrown backwards again. He adjusted faster this time, landing on his feet with a slight wobble.

It was the amulet. This approach was never going to work. I had an idea.

“Stay with him. But don’t touch him,” I called to Jason.

We were just moments from the edge of the forest. I stopped.

Jason and Smith continued running, getting further away from me with each step. I had to hurry.

I grabbed a thorny stick from the ground and dragged it across the entire length of my arm. Blood oozed out. I took a fist full of dirt and rubbed it into the wound. I had no idea if this would work.

Suddenly, there was a deafening noise, as though fifty claps of thunder sounded at once. A bolt of lightning hit the ground next to me, just inches away. I jumped. It scorched the earth.

A long, thin crack grew on the ground, stretching out of the burn mark. It spread until it reached the trees surrounding the clearing. One of the trees swayed. Then it snapped, knocking down more like dominos. Dozens of large black birds scattered. They didn’t get far. One by one they fell out of the sky and landed with a thud. I looked away. This was the price for my blood magic.

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A spasm of nearly uncontrollable power rocked through my arm. It was working.

The dirt combined with my blood and I was connected, like never before, to the earth element. I heard, saw and felt the world differently. The sound of an animal scurrying up a tree was amplified as though it were being sent through a loud speaker. Even the air was audible. Not just audible, I could feel it. I could feel the grass growing, molecules moving, even the magma beneath the earth shifting.

I held my arm up and the wind howled. It entered my wound and mixed with the earth and the blood. It was so much power. For a moment I worried it would control me, instead of me controlling it.

The world was clear and vibrant. I could see and feel everything, even with my eyes closed. I embraced the power and let it consume me. The ground began to quake. Opening my eyes, I watched Smith slow to a jog. Then, for just a moment, he paused.

Jason A loud boom startled me and I stumbled. I turned briefly toward the sound and saw birds falling out of the sky. When I turned back, Smith was still running at full speed for the trees. I quickly restarted by pursuit.

Then everything began to shake. It was just a tremor at first.

Then trees started to bend and sway. A thunderous noise, which reminded me of the bad earthquake back in California at the turn of the century, roared across the valley.

I pushed away the terrible memory. This was no tectonic shift. It was Marc.

I looked back as I ran. Marc stood in the middle of the clearing. Just under the surface of his skin, every inch glowed with the black illumination.

How was he doing this? I looked more closely. Blood dripped down his arm. He was using blood magic, again.

Dark clouds formed overhead. The slight breeze morphed into a strong wind. It plucked grass and dirt from the ground. Soon entire chunks of earth flew into the air. They converged in a cyclone circling Smith’s feet.

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I ducked. A large branch barely missed my head. It was sucked into the whirling wind.

The tornado grew to the height of Smith’s chest. He looked confused. He held the amulet, crouched down and then leapt forward. When his body met the funnel, it was as though he had run straight into a jagged stone wall. The impact wiped away all traces of confidence.

Lifting a finger slowly, he tapped one of the deeper gashes. It spread from his ear across his cheek. He winced.

The tornado shot up into the sky. It covered Smith completely.

“What now?” I yelled to Marc.

“Reach in and grab the necklace,” Marc directed. He was several feet away but his voice sounded as if he was standing right next to me.

“Do it now,” Marc commanded. “I can’t control this much longer.”

With the threat of losing this chance, I approached the tornado. My face was so close any one of the larger objects could easily have ripped my nose right off. As I stepped forward into the whirlwind, the debris passed over my body like a wave over a rock.

The vial around Smith’s neck glowed. He saw my hand reaching for it. He tried to evade. He had nowhere to run. My fingers closed around the tiny object. I yanked it off his neck.

I stumbled backwards. The tornado violently collapsed. Dirt and debris filled the air. I let out a cough. Smith fell to the ground under the weight of the twister’s mass. He was being buried alive.

His body was a lump of flailing earth.

“Marc,” I said, “Stop.”

Marc’s eyes were an eerie shade of red. He looked menacing, almost evil.

“If you kill him we won’t find out what happened to her.” I called.

Smith continued to flail. His dirt coated hands swiped uselessly at his mouth, trying to clear a path for air.

“Marc,” I yelled, with alarm.

Marc’s expression did not change. The darkness continued to glow beneath his skin. I considered the possibility that I might have to fight him to save Smith.

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“Hey, don’t do this. Maybe there’s a way to get her back,” I said, trying, one last time.

Slowly, the dirt spread back onto the earth like water receding into the ocean. After a few moments, Smith was coughing ragged breaths.

The dark clouds above floated away.

Marc turned and started a steady march back to the house.

Wordlessly, I followed, dragging our prisoner. Without his necklace, Smith’s powers were no match for mine.

Marc led us to Dagny’s shell.

As we entered the old living room, Marc looked at Smith and waved his hand. Suddenly, Smith’s legs and arms flew out in front of him as his torso went backwards. All parts of him flattened against the wall. His face crumpled in pain on impact.

Smith tried to move but couldn’t lift his limbs. The wall seemed to absorb him slowly, as though it were made of putty. After a few moments, only the front part of his body was visible.

Marc turned away from Smith. He stared at Dagny’s body.

He barely seemed to concentrate when he threw Smith into the wall.

Maybe he really did have the power of the God. Marc knelt down beside Dagny. He placed his hand gently on her chest.

“She’s not dead. I know what it’s like when she’s around. I can feel her power. She’s close. How? Where is she?” Marc raised his head slowly. Then he snapped it around to look directly at Smith.

“Where is she?” he said, louder.

The red film over his eyes darkened until I could just barely see his pupils.

A smirk grew across Smith’s face. Suddenly, he started choking. Marc was doing that, with only his mind.

“Marc,” I warned. Smith would be no help to us dead.

Marc released his invisible chokehold. He returned to looking at Dagny. Smith took a few wheezing breaths.

“You’d better talk or I won’t stop him next time,” I threatened.

It started as a low, chuckle. Quickly, Smith’s mocking grew into a condescending laugh. Before he could turn the laugh into words, he started choking again.

“OK,” Smith croaked. “I’ve stored her.”

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“What the hell does that mean?” I was on the verge of letting Marc tear him apart. Smith seemed to understand the meaning in my stare.

“If you kill me you’ll never get her back,” he said.

Reaching forward, my fingers easily pressed into the wall. I circled them around his neck. His fear was palpable.

“Stop,” Smith begged through his breaths.

“Tell me what you mean,” I said.

“She’s alive, in a way.”

“How?” “If I tell you that, you’ll kill me. That would be a mistake, however, because I’m the only one who knows the ritual to retrieve her.” The smugness returned to his face. I wanted to wipe it off with my fist.

Marc Smith’s clothes were tattered. His shirt hung in fringes around his body. Looking up, I caught his eye and I knew. He was terrified I would figure out the secret to finding Dagny.

Slowly, I approached him. I could feel Dagny’s power. It was on him, somewhere. I ran my hand down his arm, across his chest.

“Marc, what are you doing?” Jason said.

I looked in Smith’s pockets. Then I noticed the bottom of his pants. They were torn and exposed an objected attached his right ankle.

I reached down to grab it. It was a knife. As I curled my fingers around the handle, the energy almost knocked me over. I slid the knife out from the holster.

It had an intricate ivory handle. The artwork carved into the handle flawlessly met the blade, which curved at the end like a fang.

It had a symbol of a sun flanked by two moons.

“What are you doing?” Smith cried. His eyes were wide with panic.

I staggered slowly to Dagny’s body.

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had to put Dagny back in that body. That meant putting the knife back inside her.

“No,” Smith screamed as I approached the body. “You’ll kill her. There are rituals that need to be performed.”

“I don’t need your rituals,” I said.

The knife hovered above the fresh scar that sloped down just an inch below her bellybutton. With both of my hands gripped tensely around the handle of the knife, I plunged it directly into her abdomen.

I channeled the energy to a point. Through my internal eye, I saw her essence seeping slowly into her stomach. It was like trying to push a heavy object through sand. I willed it to spread through her chest, her neck and up into her head. Simultaneously, I pushed it down her shoulders and into her arms. It spread like honey filling a jar. A shriek pierced the air.

Dagny’s back suddenly arched with the power of the scream.

I worried it was her death knell.

Her eyes fluttered opened. The sunflower pattern sent relief flooding through my body. Quickly, her cheeks began to lose their pale, waxy finish. Within seconds her lips, which just moments before were turning blue, changed to light pink.

“Dagny” I whispered, tenderly.

A shade of happiness passed across her face. It quickly gave way to a pain.

“Marc,” she said, with a groan. “It hurts.”

I wrenched the knife out of her abdomen to stop her pain.

Blood started gushing out of the wound like a volcanic eruption.

“Shit,” I cursed.

The blood flowed so fast it covered my hands in a matter of seconds. Thrusting my arms out of my jacket and ripping off my shirt, I used the clothing to stop the hemorrhaging. I put my hand back in place to try to heal it again. The blood streamed out of her body at an alarming speed.

“Dagny, I can’t stop the bleeding,” I said, terrified.

My thoughts were muddled and incongruent. The coherent point I’d achieved seconds before was gone. My energy was spent.

Smith was right. I was going to lose her.

Her eyes closed. All the color in her face drained away. She clasped my hand lightly. The touch was so delicate it felt like the 276

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grasp of a frail elderly person. She moved my hand under the jacket and pressed it down into the wound. My fingers moved beneath her skin and into her body. She let out a groan of pain. But she held my hand in place.

Suddenly, a dream-like sensation overcame me. I let myself fall into a haze. It was thin at first. The more I released myself, the thicker it became. I could feel her. No, I saw her. I saw the real Dagny. There are no words to describe it. It’s not like when you see someone’s face. This was like experiencing the pureness of her being. At that moment, I was literally touching her soul.

Was this her last gift to me? It would be the only thing I would ever know was real for the rest of my life. In that space, together, there was nothing that could hurt us. We were no longer two people existing separately.

I let out a scream as all of my energy passed through me and into her.

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Chapter 30 Marc I opened my eyes.

At first, I didn’t feel the sun on my back. I only noticed the soft movement of Dagny’s chest. I wiped away the blood and saw the pink streak of a freshly healed scar across her belly.

I held the back of her head and gently shook her to try to coax her awake. Her eyes opened for a second. It was just long enough to see them, her sunflower eyes.

I tucked my arms beneath her knees and neck and picked her up.

When I looked up, I finally saw the massive destruction around me. Like a raindrop hitting a puddle of water, the debris rippled outward from the center point of me and Dagny.

Boards and glass were splayed in fragments around the landscape. It was as though a bomb had exploded. The blast was so destructive that the closest trees had been uprooted.

“Jason,” I called.

In a small area to my left, pieces of the rubble shifted and cracked. A table flew into the air. Beneath it was the ripped and bloodied body of Jason. He groaned and rolled on his side. With 278

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some effort, slowly, he stood. Jason touched a wound on his head and it instantly healed, as did the ones on his legs and arms.

“What just happened?” Jason asked, bewildered. “Is she?”

Jason nodded toward Dagny.

“She’s alive,” I answered.

Suddenly, Mr. Bennet and Ava popped into the space right next to Jason, standing in a spot where there was only air before.

“Finally. We’ve been trying to get to you since you called.

What happened here?” Ava said, stumbling over a piece of wood.

She looked up and saw me.

“Dagny,” she cried.

“She’s going to be OK,” Jason assured her.

“What happened?” Ava asked.

“It’s a long story,” Jason said.

“Let’s get her home,” I suggested as I slowly navigated through the rubble toward the Bennets.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said a familiar voice.

I turned slowly to see my Stepfather or at least the body of my Stepfather. The amber eyes of the Traveler inside him seemed to glow and dance with excitement.

“Hello, Marc,” he said.

“Benjamin,” I responded. “Or I guess your name is actually Thomas?”

Thomas nodded his head.

“It was once,” he said. “But then I’ve had so many names. It can be hard to keep track.”

Mr. Bennet took two large steps and placed himself between me and Thomas. Jason quickly ran to his side. Ava kicked off her shoes and followed. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they made a formidable barrier.

“I’ll give you one chance to leave,” Mr. Bennet warned.

Thomas put his finger on his lips and tapped it several times.

“Let me think about that,” he said. “I’m going to have to decline.

I’ve been waiting a long time for this day. Now where is my protégé? He told me he captured Dagny’s power. She didn’t technically Travel, her soul was extracted from her body. So, I suspected the body might hang on to life for a bit. But it should be dead by now. The body in your arms looks as though it’s still breathing, however.”

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Thomas waved his hand in an arching motion. A few feet away, a section of the rubble shifted and slid away to reveal the broken body of Mr. Smith. He was covered in dust and bent at a crooked angle.

Thomas glided over him. He bent down and laid a hand on Smith. The air crackled. Smith jerked and shook. Then he sprang up with a loud gasp.

Thomas took Smith’s elbow and lifted him up. He brushed debris off Smith’s wide shoulders. Smith took a ragged breath and then wiped his dust-covered face with his hands, leaving long patches of exposed skin across his cheeks.

“Tell me what happened,” Thomas said.

Smith didn’t speak at first. He looked around. He shook his head. Dust floated into the air.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Smith said. His voice was hoarse and uncertain. Smith caught Thomas’ eye and suddenly snapped into shape. He was a thick man, larger than Thomas. He had a large torso and a thick neck. “I had her. But that boy put her soul back in her body. I don’t know how he did it. He should not have been able to undo my spell.”

Smith fell to his knees. He bowed forward and put his forehead on Thomas’ shoe.

“Please forgive me,” he begged.

“Stand,” Thomas said. Slowly, Smith straightened and stood.

“Of course I forgive you. I did not anticipate their chance meeting before you enacted your plan. It is not an easy feat to go up against the power of the Gods. You were not ready. That was my error.”

He took Smith’s elbow again and directed him to a flat clearing.

“Not to worry dear boy, I always have a contingency plan,” Thomas said to Smith.

Thomas took a step back from Smith. He snapped his fingers. A woman in a robe appeared. She fell to the ground to his right.

“Mom,” I yelled and stepped forward, for a moment forgetting I was still holding Dagny.

Mr. Bennet held up his left arm and I felt pressure on my chest holding me back as if a force field stood between me and my mother.

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“Benjamin, what are you doing?” Mom said. Her voice squeaked loudly with fear. I tried to step forward again. The force strengthened. I could have broken through but I knew I shouldn’t. I needed to remain calm and make a plan. I couldn’t act rashly or Thomas might kill her.

Thomas ran a finger across his lips. Mom opened and closed her mouth but her voice was mute. She grabbed her throat and lunged at Thomas. He held up his hand. She froze in place, one hand on her throat the other reaching through the air.

Thomas snapped his fingers again. Jillian appeared on the other side of him. Her hair was tangled and her face confused. It took all my will not to lunge forward and grab her.

“What’s going on?” she said.

She looked at Thomas. Then she saw our frozen mother. Her eyes went wild with fright.

“Marc,” Jillian screamed.

“It’s going to be OK, Jillian.” I called. “Stay calm.”

She tried to run to me. Thomas waved his hand. She fell to her knees. Her hands and legs stuck to the ground as though they were chained. She wiggled and writhed but she couldn’t move. She screamed my name. The fire inside me flashed. Thomas would pay for hurting my family.

Thomas let out an annoyed breath. He ran his finger over his mouth again. Jillian’s cries were silenced.

“Leave her alone,” I bellowed. My power surged. Suddenly, the dark light emanating from beneath my skin glowed brighter than ever before.

“Yes, yes I can see you have the power of the Gods,” Thomas said. “Join the club.”

“What does that mean?” I said. My voice sounded strange to my ears. It was intense and powerful, like I felt.

“I had it once, too,” Thomas clarified.

“That’s impossible,” Jason said, suddenly. “No one has had the power of the Gods since Aradnia and Dionus.”

Thomas put his hand over his heart. He took a low, sweeping bow.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Thomas said.

“You expect us to believe you are Dionus?” Jason said.

“Dionus is dead. Aradnia killed him and then herself.”

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“So the story says, because I let that story be told. I wanted everyone to believe I was dead. It’s true. My wife did stab me. It was shocking, I admit. But, my boy, I invented Traveling. Is it so hard to believe I left my body before it died? Unfortunately, when she killed herself it caused both of our powers to return to the earth.

I didn’t anticipate that. Still, I lived on.”

“It can’t be true,” Jason said. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself Thomas was lying.

“I do not care what you think is true, child,” Thomas said, condescendingly.

It was hard to believe. Part of the story at the center of the Aradnian and Dionician conflict was a lie and one that lived on for over 2,000 years. I wondered what else wasn’t true.

But I didn’t doubt this man inhabiting my Stepfather was Dionus. I could somehow sense he once held the power of the Gods.

It was as if the power inside me recognized him.

“So you’ve been waiting all this time for this prophecy thing to happen,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “I always understood why you were chosen. Your mind is sharp. I’ve actually grown rather fond of you.

I’m almost sorry I have to take your power and kill you.”

“You’re not going to take my power or kill me,” I said, the energy inside me flaring again. At the sound of my voice, the ground vibrated. Dagny stirred.

“I will. I’ve been Traveling into Wiccan bodies for two millennia. At this point, I have more power than the Gods themselves. And when I have both powers, I will resurrect my wife and we will reign again. This time, we will reign over the entire world. Now, I’ll give you two choices. You can hand your power over willingly or you can fight.”

Suddenly, Dagny jumped out of my arms and landed lightly on the ground. Her knees were bent and her arms up. She was ready for a confrontation.

“Oh, we’re definitely going to fight,” she said.

“That’s a shame,” Thomas said and raised his hand.

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A surge of invisible energy burst out from Thomas’ palm. It struck my Dad in the chest. He fell backwards onto Marc. Marc stumbled but managed to help him stay standing.

I planted my feet firmly on the ground. Heat raced up into my legs. It was more power than ever before. There was so much energy I felt as if I was on the verge of exploding. When Smith took me out of my body, it must have somehow broken the binding spell.

I had all my power now. It felt incredible and completely terrifying.

I raised a hand and pointed toward Thomas, ready to unleash my newly restored power.

“Dagny, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Thomas. He laid a hand on Marc’s Mom’s frozen arm. “Unless you’d like me to obliterate Marc’s mother and sister.”

I hesitated. The power teetered on the edge of my hand. I quickly yanked it back inside me. Even though his mother played a role in killing my mother, I couldn’t risk anyone in Marc’s family getting hurt. He would be devastated.

Dad, Ava and Jason stood with their knees bent, ready to strike.

Suddenly, my father was blown several yards backward. He hit the trunk of the tree and collapsed to the ground.

“I will kill you if you hurt my family,” I screamed at Thomas.

Marc looked at me. His eyes glazed over with a red film. He grabbed my hand and his power surged into my body. I understood what he wanted without him needing to speak.

We lifted our hands up at the same time and two beams of light blew outward. One struck Thomas and the other struck Smith.

Smith screamed and crumpled to the ground next to Thomas.

Thomas’s eyes went wide with pain but he remained standing as the same energy that had leveled Smith slammed into him. A knot of fear formed in my stomach. He was powerful.

Marc and I closed our palms and the light evaporated.

Thomas staggered forward, refusing to cower. After a few wobbly steps, he finally fell to his knees. He put one hand on the ground and grabbed his chest with the other.

Jillian and Marc’s mother both suddenly started streaming again.

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“What are you doing? What is happening?” Marc’s mother yelled, hysterically. She completed the lunge she started before she was frozen, nearly falling to the ground.

Marc and I leapt forward. We pulled his mother and sister behind Jason and Ava who maintained a protective wall.

My father shook his head and pushed himself up off the roots of the tree.

Thomas groaned from his position on the ground.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said. He snapped his head up and flung an angry look at Jason. Jason exploded into a ball of fire.

“No,” Marc screamed.

Jason closed his eyes. The flames disappeared, as though he absorbed them into his body the way a sponge absorbs water. His right hand, however, still flickered with a flame. It danced out from his fingers without burning him.

Fire was Jason’s element. Thomas was testing him. He wanted to see our limitations.

Jason pulled his hand back like he was going to throw a baseball. A fiery sphere formed in his palm. He whipped his arm forward and the flame flew toward Thomas.

Thomas lunged to the right to dodge the fireball. It hit the ground and the grass sizzled and smoked. Thomas glared. He laid a shaky hand on Smith and the two of them disappeared.

The loud sound of our labored breaths was suddenly noticeable. Jillian sobbed and fell into Marc’s arms. He squeezed his sister tight. His mother collapsed onto the ground. She grabbed her hair and shook her head back and forth. She kept muttering, “No, no, no, no.”

No one else spoke. We were waiting. This wasn’t over.

A piercing scream shot out. We looked at Marc’s mother.

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Chapter 31

Jillian This was all so crazy and that’s saying a lot for my life. What exactly was happening right now? How did I get here? One second I was consoling my hysterical mother at our house. The next I’m at some battlefield, being magically manipulated by my Stepfather, who is not Benjamin Michaelson, but some guy named Thomas.

Actually, he’s not even Thomas. He’s really the very first Traveler, Dionus. Seriously, I needed a white board to map out this madness.

My mother wailed and pointed at the trees. She needed to get a grip. I’d been listening to her freak out for the last two hours. I was beyond sick of it.

She yelped and pulled her hair. She wasn’t making any sense. None of this was making any sense.

I looked at where she was pointing. Near the trees surrounding this giant mass of ruins, Benjamin or Thomas or Dionus, whoever he was, stepped out of the shadows. That other guy, I think Smith was his name, was with him.

They didn’t run. Instead, they walked slowly and deliberately. It was eerie, like weird robots marching toward us, programmed with only one goal—our complete annihilation.

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My mother screamed again and pointed. I turned around and there Benjamin was again. Wait, how were there two of him?

Another Smith marched next to him in step. She screamed again and again. Seriously? There were so many of them. There had to be at least four of each. Were they real? Was any of this real?

I wanted to fall down on the ground and scream hysterically like my mother. Before I could give in to that weakness, Marc grabbed my arm and stared at me.

“Jillian, you need to be strong,” he said.

He tossed me toward the blonde girl. I’d seen her at school with her brother, Jason, and sister. Was Ava the sister’s name? I think there last name was Bennet, maybe. They were new, so I wasn’t sure. I didn’t pay much attention to new people or anyone for that matter.

Jason was the quarterback. I couldn’t avoid that piece of information no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t know anything about Ava. I was pretty sure the blonde girl holding my arm was a cheerleader. A friggin’ cheerleader was going to protect me? No, no.

This was completely crazy.

The cheerleader held me tightly.

“Hey, I’m Dagny,” she whispered in my ear. “Just stay behind me and you’ll be fine. My family and I will protect you.”

The other guy, the old dude, he seemed like Dagny’s father, Mr. Bennet, I guessed. He picked up what looked to be a chair leg.

As he raised it to his shoulder, pieces started ripping off the end to create a sharp tip. Jason formed a ball of fire in his hand and tossed it directly at the spear. The tip exploded into flames. Mr. Bennet drew his arm back and released it with the force of a crossbow. It shot straight, catching one of those Thomas guys in the arm. The doppelganger fell backwards. He rolled around on the ground and screeched uncontrollably, batting at the flames. Suddenly, the wounded duplicate melted into dust as another one stepped out from the trees.

“Um, Dagny? I really hope you can insta-clone yourself, too, or we are in trouble,” I said to the cheerleader.

Marc looked over at us. Dagny pulled me back further toward the trees and let her family stand on the frontlines against all the duplicates.

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Ava and Jason broke off from their father and headed for the large field next to what used to be some sort of structure. Whatever it was it was gone now. I did not want to know how that happened.

Ava ran her hand across her skirt. It split up the sides and wrapped around her legs, turning into pants. That was a cool trick.

A group of Thomases and Smiths followed Jason and Ava. One of each stayed behind circling Mr. Bennet. I noticed a low hum in the distance. It was a strange sound.

Mr. Bennet and the Thomas and Smith pair matched each other step for step in a circle, neither wanting to be the first to strike.

The hum grew louder. It was coming from a dark cloud zigzagging across the sky and heading straight for us. The hum morphed into a loud buzz as the odd cloud got closer.

Before I understood what was happening, the cloud swooped down. It wasn’t a cloud, though. It was a swarm of wasps.

They engulfed the duplicate Thomas and Smith with a shrill hiss. The pair flailed and screamed. Mr. Bennet slammed his foot into the ground over and over. Each time the ground shook harder.

He smashed his foot into the ground one last time. A crack formed in the earth and spread in the direction of the screaming, waspterrorized duplicates. The earth split apart when it reached them creating a large hole. The duplicates didn’t notice. They were too busy flapping their arms. The Thomas stepped straight into the hole.

His arms circled to keep his balance. It was too late. He fell into the chasm. Smith took two blind steps and fell in after him.

Mr. Bennet slammed his foot back into the ground and the earth closed back together.

A Thomas in the group following Jason and Ava suddenly stopped and turned around. The rest kept going as Jason and Ava lured them further into the field and away from us.

Mr. Bennet decided to take the offensive, he ran toward the advancing Thomas at full force. The dirt beneath him kicked up and clung to his arms and legs. He turned brown like an animal as he gained speed and energy.

Suddenly, he froze in mid stride. His eyes went wild as he tried to move. His body shook and a scream erupted from his core as he broke free from the mystical freeze.

“Watch out,” I screamed.

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He jumped out of the way of a large metal stove the Thomas had hurled at him.

The Thomas turned to me and glared. He lifted his hand. Uh oh.

Dagny I threw my arms around Jillian and leapt backward, barely missing the stream of energy one of the Thomas’ thrust at her. We fell on our backs onto jagged rocks and tree roots.

“Stay here,” I told Jillian.

I stood up quickly and banged my hands together. A flickering blue charge grew in mass at every contact. On the last clap, the blue ball of pure electricity stuck to my palm. I hurled it at the Thomas and hit him in the chest. He fell to the ground. His body twitched.

Jillian raised herself up on her elbows.

“Thank you,” she said, breathlessly.

“No problem,” I said.

Marc stood in front of his mother. She was still rocking back and forth on the ground. His real focus was on Jason and Ava, who were outnumbered and about to be attacked. I ran over to him and took his hand. Instantly, I felt the connection. We were like two live wires touching. Together our power was beyond explosive.

Two Thomases and three Smiths descended on my siblings.

Ava positioned herself in a low crouch. She waited for them to draw near. She sprang up. The air below lifted her high over their heads.

Her legs expertly kicked four of the doppelgangers in the face with force of an object ten times her size. Then, she floated quietly to the ground.

The duplicates grabbed their bloody noses and cried in pain.

“The duplicates have no powers,” Ava called out. “They can’t do magic. They’re just bodies.”

That was good news. This meant the real Thomas was the one facing off against Dad and currently, hopefully permanently, incapacitated. The real Smith had to be among these duplicates closing in on Ava and Jason. The question was which one was he.

One of the Smiths snapped his nose back into place without even a wince. That answered my question. He was no duplicate.

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The resilient Smith held up his hand and released a burst of blue energy. Long lines of electricity extended out of his fingertips.

They struck Ava. She twisted grotesquely and fell to the ground.

Smith smirked at her defeat but only for a second. Marc waved his arm and threw Smith backwards all the way to the line of the trees. He landed hard on his back.

After a few moments, Smith rose. He paused as if gathering his energy. Then he took two huge steps and leapt through the air, flying back into the fight like a feral dog. He gnashed his teeth and growled. His feet slammed down when he landed, making the earth ripple and wave. Jason and Ava fought to keep their balance.

Smith lunged at them. When his right foot touched the earth, it sank into the ground as though he had stepped in quicksand.

I looked over at Marc. A black light glowed under his skin.

My skin began to glow with a white light in response. It was like he was a negative charge and I was a positive. Our energies pulled toward each other. Suddenly, I felt a jolt. My power thrust itself toward Marc. He glowed brighter.

Smith struggled to free his feet. The more he thrashed, the further he sank. Soon he was up to his shoulders in dirt. Jason and Ava turned to one another as Smith closed his eyes and was consumed into the earth.

Marc was protecting my brother and sister by pulling power from me. I relaxed and let my power flow into him.

“I won’t let them hurt your family,” he said.

“I won’t let them hurt any of us,” I responded.

Suddenly Dad screamed out in pain. Without letting go of Marc’s hand, I turned and saw my father on the ground bleeding.

Thomas stood over him with a sinister look of satisfaction.

Marc looked over his shoulder at my Dad and stiffened with concern. Power flowed freely back and forth between us, making both of us stronger. I flicked my free hand. The motion sent out a wave of energy and Thomas was tossed backwards like a doll. He hit the trunk of a tree and slumped down to the ground.

Dad closed his eyes and laid back momentarily with relief.

Then he pushed himself up off the ground. He was safe for now.

When I looked back at Jason and Ava, a pile of dirt had grown behind them. Rising covertly, Smith ascended like a zombie 291

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from the grave. Jason and Ava sensed his presence and turned around to face the dirt-covered Smith.

The earth behind Jason and Ava quietly caved inward, creating a giant pit in the ground. Suddenly, Smith swung his arms.

“Watch out,” Marc screamed too late.

Jason and Ava looked at him with confusion, as Smith slammed his hands into their chests and sent them falling forward into the pit. They disappeared into the earth.

Marc took a deep breath and extended his right arm in the direction of the hole in the ground. I watched his power form into a dark gray tentacle that rolled out and down into the pit. It moved fast, reaching further and further into the earth, searching for Jason and Ava. I hoped it would reach them in time.

Marc jerked back suddenly. His arm began to strain like a fishing rod trying to reel in a large catch. Marc leaned backwards.

His veins and muscles bulged from exertion.

“I’ve got them. But it’s too much,” he said, his teeth clenched tightly. “I’m going to lose them.”

Instinctively, I pushed my power through our linked hands into his body. It flooded out of me like a gushing river. Marc’s body gave a jolt and his dark power glowed brighter from under his skin.

A hand clawed at the top of the hole in the earth, followed by another. Jason rose out of the abyss. Ava was right behind him.

When Jason and Ava were safely on top of the earth, Marc’s body drooped, showing the first signs of fatigue. His mother was still on the ground behind us. He leaned down and pulled her up next to him. She shook and mumbled to herself. Her eyes were wild.

Even if she survived, she may never be the same.

“Dad, get over here. Bring Jillian,” I yelled.

We needed to stay close together. Marc and I couldn’t protect everyone at once.

My father stumbled over to us pulling Jillian behind him.

“Oh Dad,” I said and reached back to help him.

He stiffened.

“I’m fine,” he said, even though I didn’t ask. He stepped closer to me.

The five of us clustered together. Marc, Dad and I were the outer ring. Marc’s mother and sister were on the inside.

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The real Thomas had recovered enough to stand. He limped toward us and stopped a few yards away. He glared and put his hand in the air. His short fingernails stretched and creaked. It made a sound like a tree branch snapping. His nails grew into long nasty dark talons.

He dragged his new claws across his chest. Long streaks of blood poured out of the wounds. He reached down to the ground and picked up a fist full of dirt. He rubbed it into the gashes on his chest.

Then he lifted his clawed hand up in the air and made a fist with his other. He slammed his fist down into the ground.

The rubble and debris beneath us swelled as if some monstrosity beneath the ground was trying to break out of its prison.

We stumbled and grabbed each other tighter.

Thomas lifted his fist again and slammed it to the ground.

The mound shook and sprouted upwards into a sharp hill that was at least the height of the house that stood there before. We teetered at the top of the uneven precipice. There was no escape. If we jumped, we would be hurt badly or killed.

Thomas thrust his fist again to the ground. An instant later we were another ten feet in the air on the precarious mountain of rubble. Jillian had somehow shifted to the outside of our circle in the commotion. She shuffled her feet to stay on top of the mound. Her left foot slipped on the edge. She flailed her arms to keep her balance and screamed. Dad grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the group. He also teetered on the outside edge. It wouldn’t be long before he and Jillian lost their balance, sending them straight to their death.

The growing mountain slowed and finally stopped.

Thomas turned his attention to the area surrounding the soaring rubble. He made his palm flat and turned it to the sky. He raised his arm in an upward motion, as though he was pushing up some invisible lever. With each gesture, a sharp plank of wood shot up at the base of the crudely forged tower creating a deathtrap of wooden stakes below. Anyone who fell would be impaled.

“So, Marc and Dagny,” Thomas called when his architectural project was complete. “How about this? I’ll spare your families, if you hand over your power now.”

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Marc looked at me for confirmation. He didn’t need it. He knew I would never surrender. I’d rather risk death. Although, I was decidedly less sure about sacrificing our families.

Thomas laughed angrily. The tower swayed. My father struggled to keep his balance on the small plateau.

“Last chance,” Thomas called.

Marc and I stayed silent.

With a snarl, Thomas held up his hand and swept his arm down to his knee. The side of the tower holding up Jillian and Dad crumbled. Jillian’s piercing scream echoed through the valley as they descended toward the spiked planks.

“No,” Marc’s mother screamed.

I grabbed Marc’s hand. Our power combined instantly. We glowed with our dark and light illumination. Together we willed the air around my father and Jillian to thicken and halt their fall.

They came to an abrupt stop hovering above the tips of the death spikes. Jillian’s scream fell short as she realized she was dangling in mid-air.

Marc and I compelled a strong gust of wind to sweep around the mountain. It knocked down each spike one by one. We released Dad and Jillian and they tumbled a few feet to safely hit the earth.

In retaliation, Thomas turned his back on the tower. The ground below us fell away.

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Chapter 32

Jillian The earth came at me so fast I could barely get out a thought.

Then, suddenly, I slowed and stopped. Seconds later I hit the ground lightly, bruised but not broken.

I didn’t know how I survived the fall. But there was no time to think about it. The strange tower above me shuddered and swayed. It was going to collapse. I scrambled to my feet.

Mr. Bennet pushed himself off the ground. He looked up at the unstable tower and then at me. He wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. I felt like I was being smothered and then literally stretched like a piece of gum.

A moment later I was on the ground several yards away from the shaking tower. Mr. Bennet lay next to me. He groaned. Around me there was a gritty fog of dust.

I waved my hand to try to clear the air. The fog slowly thinned enough so I could see. The tower was gone.

“Marc,” I screamed. My cry turned into a cough as debris filled my lungs.

Then I saw a human shape in the distance.

“Marc?” I said, coughing again.

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A wind blew through the area and the fog disappeared. I saw him. He had one arm hooked around our mother, who limped on her right foot. Next to him Dagny walked steadily.

I was going to have to reevaluate my opinion of cheerleaders if I survived this.

Jason I surveyed my surroundings to find a weapon. Two pieces of sharp wood caught my attention. I took one in each hand.

Electricity trilled in the air. I directed the current into each piece of wood. They began to smoke and char. The blue veins in my arms pulsed under the weight of the large beams. The wood fused to my skin as the planks turned black.

I whipped the new extensions around. As they glided through the air they hardened and petrified into stone. The jagged edges turned into razor sharp points. Now, I had two stone swords as arms.

It was time to annihilate this Smith character.

Ava and I lured the remaining Thomases and Smiths away from Dagny and Marc. Now we were dozens of yards from the toppled house, close to the edge of the field where it met the forest.

However, I could still see the rest of my family, huddled together fighting the real Thomas. I hoped they were OK. Ava played games with the other duplicates a few yards behind me. She discovered they had strength but no magical power.

At this point, she was toying with them. The one in front of me was the real Smith. He wouldn’t go down so easily.

Smith watched me closely as I sliced my new arms through the air.

He crouched low with his hands in a protective position. I swung my left arm and the sword sailed toward him. Smith tried to jump out of the way but he wasn’t fast enough. The sword slammed into his abdomen. It sliced his flesh and sent him flying several feet into the air. He landed on his side. Blood streamed out of his stomach. He didn’t move.

I approached.

Ava joined me.

“Where are the rest of the duplicates?” I asked.

“Gone,” she said. “I took care of them.”

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Smith’s eyes shot open. I tensed. He held his arm over his wound as he pushed himself off the ground. He bared his teeth like an angry dog and growled. Venomous spit spewed from his mouth.

His saliva hit my shoulder. It cut through what remained of my clothes and burned my skin.

“It’s time for you to die now.” Smith spit, showering more venomous liquid.

“What fight are you watching?” Ava said.

Smith closed his eyes. He sucked in a large breath. His lips turned black and onyx ooze seeped out of his mouth. Then he crouched down, growling and gnashing his teeth.

I released the petrified swords and kept one so I could swing it with the force of both of my arms. I held up the sword for the final blow.

Smith sprang forward and ducked under the swing. He hit my chest and I fell backward. There was a large gash in my side. It burned as though my flesh had been torn away. Did he bite me?

Something was spreading through my body quickly. It burned its way through my insides like acid. I couldn’t move.

I managed to tilt my head and look at Ava. She was missing a chunk of her midsection. She looked down and touched it. Then she looked over to me with confusion.

What is this? It hurts. I feel like something is eating away at me, she said to me. Her arms flopped down to her sides. Her head fell back. I can’t move. Her inner voice sounded weak.

“Ava.” I tried to cry out. It sounded like the squeak of an animal.

Marc Jason and Ava lay on the ground unconscious. If they weren’t awake, they couldn’t heal their wounds. Smith staggered to his feet and straightened. He pushed his head to the right and the left, as if snapping it back into place. Then he took several inhuman leaps and landed a few feet away from me. He smirked with satisfaction.

An enraged Dagny thrust her hands up to the sky and pulled power directly from the sun. A beam of energy shot down and enveloped her. She shined with violent unstable heat, like a star on the verge of going supernova.

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“Dagny, what are you doing?” I yelled.

Suddenly, Dagny burst into flames. They danced on top of her skin and clothes but didn’t burn her. She looked as though she’d become part of the fire, its core. She pointed her hands toward Smith and a blazing stream of fire rocketed toward him.

The fire hit him in the chest and he was instantly engulfed in flames. Smith fell to the ground and rolled frantically back and forth. His screams were wild and terrifying. He was burning alive.

“Dagny,” I yelled again. “Be careful. That’s a lot of power.”

She looked at me, terrified. She knew I was right.

Dagny lifted up her hands and released the fire back to the sun. The flames on her body evaporated into the atmosphere. Steam rose off her skin.

Smith screamed and screamed. Dagny’s expression changed from angry to pained and conflicted. She picked up a thin metal bar lying on the ground and launched it at him. It soared directly into his chest, impaling him. He dropped to the ground lifeless. Blood streamed out of his body and pooled in the grass.

Dagny fell to her knees and tears spilled down her cheeks. I rushed over and folded my arms around her, rocking back and forth rhythmically “I just killed someone. I’m killer,” she whispered.

“Dagny, it’s OK,” I told her. “You didn’t have a choice. He was trying to kill us.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I killed a person,” she said, still rocking in my arms.

Suddenly, she pushed me away and took a deep breath.

“No, I can’t fall apart now,” she said. She looked wild. Her hair was tangled around her head. Her expression was feral. “Ava and Jason are near death and Dad is unconscious. Jillian and your mother can’t protect themselves. Where’s Thomas?”

Dagny brushed the tears off her face.

Just as she said it, Thomas suddenly appeared in the space between us. He shoved a knife into my right side. Pain rocketed through my body and I hunched over onto the ground.

“Right here,” Thomas said.

Dagny screamed. I lifted my head and saw Thomas’ clamp his hand around Dagny’s neck. She gasped and yanked at his fingers, frantically.

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She tried to speak but no words came out. She was terrified and I couldn’t help her. The knife had ripped into my side, cutting me open and piercing my power. This wasn’t an ordinary knife. This was the knife Smith used on Dagny. Thomas was trying to take my power. And he was succeeding.

The power seeped out of me and into the knife. Thomas twisted it. I wanted to scream out in pain but I couldn’t move. Using all my will to stay conscious, I managed to pull what was left of my power back to my core. I focused on stopping it from transferring to the knife. I was only slowing the process, though.

Dagny had to stop him or he would kill me and gain my power. He would take hers next and have what he wanted. If he got both our powers, first he would resurrect his wife. Then, I could see it is in his crazed, power-hungry eyes, he would literally attempt to rule the world.

The power inside me drained into the knife. It took effort just to keep my heart pumping. In only a few more seconds, I would be dead and my power would belong to him.

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Chapter 33

Jillian I didn’t know what to do. Mr. Bennet was still on the ground, only half awake. I pushed and nudged him. His eyes opened for a second and then they closed again. He needed to wake up, his kids were dying. My brother was dying. I needed him.

My mother was useless. She was still muttering to herself like a crazy person. No one was even paying attention to her anymore.

Marc needed help. His face was so pale. I wasn’t even sure if he was still alive.

Thomas held the knife in Marc with one hand and Dagny’s neck in the other. She wiggled and gasped for air. Her hands sparked sporadically with power but she couldn’t stop him. She was too busy trying to breathe.

I had to do something. But what could I do? I didn’t want to be good at magic and went out of my way to actually be bad at it.

For the first time, I wished I had embraced my power instead of resenting it.

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Marc’s body was still and slumped over. There was practically no life left in them. Dagny stopped struggling. Thomas was going to win.

No. I had to do something.

I grabbed a large rock and stood up. I pressed my feet to the earth and tapped into the elements. I felt the heat burn in my toes. I needed more power than just one element. This time I would try harder than I ever tried before. I closed my eyes and felt the wind on my face. I concentrated on the essence of it. I felt it easily flow through me. I suddenly realized this was my element. I’d been denying it. Air was mine to own and master. I would own it now.

I opened my eyes.

“Hey butt face,” I screamed.

Thomas snapped his head to look at me. I threw the rock and willed the wind to thrust it at its target.

I didn’t get to see where it went. A second after I released it I was thrown backward. My back hit a large object. A tree maybe?

Above me there was blue sky. Pretty.

Dagny I batted at his hand and tried to pull it away from my throat. I was getting weaker. He’d coiled his hand and power around my neck and was squeezing like a boa constrictor. I only had a few more seconds before I lost consciousness. I couldn’t stop him.

“Hey butt face,” a voice said. I had to be hearing things.

Then I thought I saw an object flying toward us.

Suddenly, a large rock hit Thomas. His head jerked back. He let go of my neck and frantically sent a blast of energy through his hand at something in the distance. I gulped in a large breath of air. It was all I needed.

I grabbed his head and funneled every ounce of my power into his brain, willing it to burn and explode. His face turned red like a hot poker inside a flame.

He let go of the knife. Marc’s white face filled with color.

Thomas’ body rattled beneath my grasp. I was electrocuting him. His eyes bulged from his head. His mouth was open and foam oozed out.

No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill another person.

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I let go of him. He fell to the ground. His hair was singed and his eyebrows were gone. He didn’t move.

Marc twitched. I knelt beside him.

“Marc, can you hear me? Should I pull out the knife?” I whispered in his ear.

Marc opened his eyes just a bit and rolled over. He took a deep breath and yanked the knife out from his side. Blood gushed out of the wound.

I quickly pressed my hands down on his skin to stop the bleeding.

“It’s OK,” he said. “I know how to heal now. I healed you.”

The blood stopped seeping from the gash and the wound started to close. Moments later, it was only a pink scar. Marc picked up the knife and stumbled over to Thomas. He leaned over Thomas’ body and lifted one of his eyelids.

“They’re dark brown,” Marc said. “He’s gone.”

“You think he’s dead or did he Travel?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Marc replied.

It didn’t matter right now. I needed to help my family.

I looked down the clearing to where Jason and Ava’s bodies were splayed out on the ground. They looked as if they were peacefully staring up at the clouds trying to figure out if they looked like elephants or boats. Though there was no peace here.

I ran as fast as I could over to them. Marc followed right behind.

“Are they dead?” he asked.

Jason and Ava were still and pale.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice wobbled.

Marc grabbed me and pulled me into his chest. I buried my face against him. For second I gave in to the fear that they were dead. My brother and sister, gone. I choked back a sob.

“I have to try to heal them,” I said into his chest. I couldn’t look at Jason and Ava. It was too painful. “I’ve only healed myself. I don’t know how to heal someone else. I need your help.”

Marc took hold of the tops of my arms and gingerly pushed me away from him so he could look at me. His cool gray eyes calmed me.

“It’s exactly like you told me,” he said. “Tap into the elements and imagine what you want to happen.”

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I stepped away from him and knelt down next to Jason “Hold my hand,” I said. Together we were more powerful than apart. “I’ll need both our powers.”

Marc knelt down and took my left hand. I placed my right on Jason’s wound and closed my eyes. The elements responded as they always did when I called them. The wind whipped, the air crackled, the earth groaned. A white light grew beneath my skin, like an angel.

Even with my eyes closed, I knew Marc’s skin was glowing with dark light. I pulled not just from the elements but also from Marc.

He funneled his power to me. We were like a piece of music. He was the tune, I was the melody.

The large gash in Jason’s side grew smaller and smaller, until it finally closed over with a scab, then with new skin. He was healed but he didn’t move. His chest was still, his face expressionless.

I looked at Marc and bit my lip.

“What if it’s too late?” I said.

Suddenly, Jason shot up.

“Oh thank God,” I said.

I didn’t waste any time. I quickly turned to Ava and placed my hand on her chest. I pulled more power away from Marc. It continued to flow easily into me. Ava’s cells regenerated and her flesh sealed back together as we watched. I leaned down and wiped away the dried blood with my palm. I wanted to make sure underneath there was newly healed skin.

Ava’s eyes fluttered. She sat up and gasped.

I felt heavy with relief. I let go of my worry and fell onto of my siblings, circling my arms around both of them as much as I could. We tumbled backward to the ground.

I looked up to see Dad. He limped over to us with his arm draped over Jillian. I jumped up.

“Jillian, you saved us,” I exclaimed, running over to her. I grabbed her face in my hands and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.

“Whatever,” Jillian said, wiping her cheek.

“We’re all OK,” I said to assure myself. But something was missing. There was something I was forgetting. This wasn’t over. I started to take stock of the situation.

“Your Mom is OK?” I said, looking over at Marc.

“Well, I’m not sure about that. But she’s alive,” he answered.

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“Dad, Jason, Ava, Jillian.” I was counting off everyone just to be sure. Then I suddenly realized. “Wait, where’s Brooke? She was in the house when it fell.”

“Brooke?” Marc said. “What are you talking about?”

“She was here,” I cried. “That’s why I came here. Smith kidnapped her. She was in the room with me. Didn’t you see her?”

“She wasn’t there when Jason and I got here,” Marc said, worry creeping into his calm eyes.

“Brooke,” I screamed.

Marc grabbed my hand. Our power merged. We didn’t need to speak to each other. We just knew what to do.

We concentrated on finding Brooke. In the distance, the pile of debris quaked. Without a word, we ran to it and started yanking pieces away.

“I see her,” I said, pointing to what looked like an arm.

Everyone started grabbing pieces of rubble and throwing them to the side. Soon we’d uncovered a mangled and broken Brooke.

I leaned over and placed a hand on Brooke’s throat. There was a weak thump under my finger.

“She’s alive,” I said, sliding closer to her. I tucked my hand into Marc’s again. “Quick, let’s heal her.”

“Hold on, don’t do that just yet,” Ava objected.

Jason “Are you crazy? I’m not going to wait,” said Dagny.

Gently, Dagny moved her friend. She rolled Brooke on her back and positioned her arms at her sides. Then she adjusted her legs. Brooke’s body was broken in several places. Her right arm twisted out from her side at a sharp angle. A bone also protruded from her left calf.

Dagny and Marc still held hands. Dagny placed her free hand on Brooke’s chest. She started to glow again. The gashes and bruises on Brooke began to heal.

“Stop,” Ava said. “I’m serious.”

“What is your problem?” Dagny said. She twisted her head to look at Ava. “Listen, she’s alive right?” Ava said, cautiously.

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“Yeah, but I don’t know how long she will stay that way if I don’t heal her,” Dagny yelled.

“Wait a second and hear me out. We need some way to explain this. Brooke was kidnapped and by now her family is looking for her,” Ava explained.

“Ava, this is a girl’s life we’re talking about,” Dad said.

Dagny ignored Ava’s objections. She looked back at Brooke and continued to heal her. The long gash across Brooke’s forehead was now only a small cut.

“I’m not saying we let her die. I’m saying don’t heal her completely. Listen, this place is in the middle of nowhere and my guess is it was abandoned. Hopefully, no one will realize this house has been destroyed for a long time. Even if they do, they won’t suspect us. But Brooke was kidnapped. Do you want to try to explain that?” Ava said, hurriedly.

“Ava, I’m not going to risk my friend’s life so we aren’t exposed,” Dagny said.

Help me out here, Ava said to me. You understand where I am going with this right?

“Dagny, if we are exposed we will have to Travel,” I said.

“Heal her but leave a broken bone.”

Marc’s sister looked at us as though we were the worst people on earth. She had not been running for her whole life, however. She didn’t understand. There was no time for sentiment.

Life was about survival. We may have bested Thomas but we still needed to stay hidden. There were other dangers in the world. This situation would raise a lot of questions.

Dagny looked back at us. She was conflicted.

“We’ll say you picked up Brooke for the morning cheerleading practice and got in an accident on the way. Dad will total the car and leave it somewhere. I’ll make sure Brooke doesn’t remember anything. All you have to do is not heal her completely.

We’ll teleport her to a hospital right now. She will be fine.”

Dagny looked at Marc. They seemed to be communicating without speaking, which made me nervous. I wondered if they could talk to each other the way Ava talked to me.

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Chapter 34

Dagny Brooke’s left leg hung in a sling, wrapped in white gauze.

“How is it we were in the same car accident and I look like this and you look like that?” Brooke said to me.

“Pure dumb luck,” I answered.

“Is Lily pissed?” she asked.

“No, she’s happy we’re both OK. You really don’t remember any of it? Me picking you up and then swerving and hitting a fire hydrant to avoid that driver who was in our lane?” I asked.

“No, nothing. The doctor said that’s normal when you have brain trauma.”

“I’m really sorry, Brooke,” I said. I leaned into her hospital bed and gave her a hug. Guilt made my stomach ache. Brooke would be fine. It still didn’t seem right to let her stay hurt in order to keep us hidden.

“It’s not your fault. Plus, now I can say I didn’t go to Homecoming because I was in an accident and not because no one asked me.”

“No one asked you because you’re brilliant, witty and intimidating. Boys just can’t handle that,” I said.

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“Me? That’s crazy.” She laughed. “So are you going to go? I know you want to. Now that you and Marc are obviously a couple,” she added, nodding at Marc who stood behind me.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said. That was a lie.

Even though I should be happy just to be alive, part of me did want to go. I wanted so desperately to be normal or at least pretend after everything that just happened.

“Marc, you have to take this girl to Homecoming,” Brooke said.

Lily suddenly bounced in with a large bouquet of bright pink roses. She ran over and threw herself on Brooke and started sobbing.

Brooke put her hand on Lily’s thick curly locks and stroked her head.

“I’m fine,” Brooke cooed. “This may take a while,” she said, looking at me. “Come back after Homecoming and tell me all about it.”

Lily’s head snapped up.

“Oh. My. God. Homecoming. You’re going to miss it. That is the worst part of this whole thing,” Lily wailed dramatically.

Marc I was nervous. I couldn’t help it. We’d battled an ancient witch and lived and for some reason standing on the doorstep of my girlfriend’s house with a corsage scared me.

I knocked.

I was wearing the suit from Vegas. I wondered if she would remember it.

Jason answered. He glared at me. For a second I thought he wasn’t going to let me in. He paused and stepped aside. Dagny stood behind him in the red fringe dress. My heart beat uncontrollably.

Dagny’s father nodded to me cordially and I nodded back. I took the red rose corsage out of the plastic case and slipped it on her wrist. She looked up at me with her sunflower eyes and smiled.

“I wish your mother was here to see this,” Mr. Bennet said.

“Me too,” said Dagny.

Jason grunted.

Ava came over and brushed out the fringes on Dagny’s dress that were clumped together.

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“Where did you get this thing anyway? You look like a flapper from the 20s. That was not a great era for clothing,” she said.

I took Dagny’s hand and felt that now familiar sensation of power coursing between us, our special electric current. Once there was AC and DC current. Now there was DM. “Have her home by midnight,” Mr. Bennet said.

“I will,” I promised.

Dagny and I walked to the door.

“Wait,” Ava cried.

Dagny and I turned. What was it now?

“I need to take a picture,” Ava said.

Dagny threw her sister a strange look. She tucked her arm around my waist and we both smiled. Ava drew a camera from behind her back.

After several blinding flashes, Ava seemed satisfied. I took Dagny’s hand and we walked out the door.

The Bennets watched us leave. Their shadowy profiles huddled together in the window.

“So are we just going to have a normal night?” Dagny said as we got in the car.

“As normal as two teenagers who have God powers can have I guess,” I answered.

I started the engine.

“What do you think is going to happen? Do you think Thomas or Dionus, whoever he is, is really gone?” she whispered. “I told my family he was definitely dead this time. I’m really not sure, though.”

“I really don’t know,” I said.

I looked back through the rear windshield and backed out of the driveway. I pulled onto the street and put the car in drive.

“But I’m not going to let some prophecy dictate my life,” I said.

Dagny This had to be what normal felt like: a family sending a girl off to a school dance, a sister taking pictures, a father telling her boyfriend to have her home by midnight and the boy and girl 313

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walking out hand-in-hand. At this moment, everything in my life was absolutely normal and perfect—prophecy or no prophecy.

I reached over and kissed Marc’s cheek. He wrapped an arm around me and I melted into his side.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Marc pressed his foot down on the gas and we sped off down the road.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

K.L. Kranes lives in the Washington, DC metro area with her husband, daughter and dog. When not writing fiction, K.L. is a freelance editor.