Shadows & Spells Book 3

KELLY

The small boat cut through the water with ease, as if the river’s powerful current was nothing more than a gentle breeze.

I spotted the commune’s dock, lined with similar boats, and steered towards it, focusing on keeping the boat steady and myself dry.

The familiar hum of the commune’s protective ward greeted me as I approached the dock, and I sighed in annoyance. I didn’t even have a hairpin on me, let alone anything else sharp.

I scanned my hands and arms for any scabs, then remembered the distinct bite mark on my neck.

The scab was almost healed. I scratched at it, pressed my finger into it, and drew blood.

I guided the boat to the dock and leaned over to press my bloody thumb onto the first tall wooden post.

The bloody thumbprint lingered for a moment before disappearing into the wood, and the hum of the magical protection ceased.

I smiled to myself. The coven was always so predictable. If it wasn’t broken, why fix it?

Anyone with the blood of the ten families could bypass the ward. That’s how Jolene had let that horde of psychos in on the solstice night months ago, and how she and I would enter today.

Securing the boat’s rope to the same post, I surveyed the empty area as I disembarked and walked away.

The commune kids usually finished their harvesting early in the summer, completing their chores before the heat of the day made any other activity unbearable, except for playing in the river.

In another hour or two, this place would be bustling with kids and adults.

A sudden wave of anger washed over me, and I glanced back across the river.

Will and Jess were arguing, undoubtedly about my return.

I left the dock and turned right, ignoring the wide path that would have led me back through the forest and into the Ring. Instead, I chose the path along the river.

Oh, Will. I’d been so naive. I’d done what was necessary, but I hadn’t considered the impact on him and the significance of the word “mate.”

I’d even thought he’d forgotten me at one point, which now seemed ridiculous. I could never forget Will, even if I tried.

She wouldn’t let me. I’d only let her out three times, just enough to keep my sanity, and when she was out, all she thought about was him. I had been so fucking naive.

When Jolene and I had made the tense journey back to Italy and little Deedee, I’d realized I didn’t know half, not even a quarter, of what Jolene had done.

The secret magic in our bloodline that she held onto was deep and complex, like veins of gold hidden in solid rock. It was my last chance to learn.

Whatever was going to happen at the commune and with Gran, it was clear my mother had taken a different path with magic.

She knew different things, more practical things, despite being unhinged and delusional half the time.

The tall grass at the river’s edge brushed against my bare knees, and I tried to distract myself from the dilemma of Will and how I was going to mend our relationship.

A day when we could lie in bed and learn more about each other than our shared love for Chinese food.

When I could work in the greenhouse and ask him to bring in the new potting soil.

One day, when life had settled down, if it ever did.

A warm breeze blew down the river as I walked alongside it, reconnecting with a place I’d once felt deeply connected to.

Clusters of pines and spruces began to appear as I walked along the northern river border of the coven’s lands.

The heat would soon be unbearable, but for now, it was almost perfect.

The path along the river was less traveled, but still enjoyable with the songbirds in the aspens serenading the morning.

Eventually, I reached the creek that supplied the commune’s main water source. I was about to jump over it when I noticed two large plastic milk containers washed in from the river.

I muttered a curse and reached in to retrieve them. Most of their contents were gone, leaving a metallic sheen at the bottom.

I tossed them aside, out of the water, and grunted in disgust.

The nearest city, Hunter, had always been a problem with its lack of recycling, and sadly, some things never changed.

I continued walking for another fifteen minutes until I reached a secluded part of the forest’s edge. A cluster of boulders formed a partial wall, making it visible only from the river.

The ground became soft, almost squishy, as the river’s edge encroached onto the land, creating a small, marshy patch of land between the rock wall and the water.

I trudged in, grateful for my sturdy boots, and began searching for the little yellow flower. Reeds and weeds cluttered the area in a chaotic tangle of brush.

The area was the commune’s source for magical water roots, but it had clearly been neglected this year. Forgotten in favor of more pressing matters.

Or perhaps whoever was in charge believed there was beauty in chaos, as common wildflowers began to invade the soft, fertile ground.

Finally, I found the little calamus flower, yellow and delicate, resembling a bundle of tissue paper in bloom. The ground beneath it was spongy as my hands dug in, searching for the hard root underneath.

How much would I need? There seemed to be only one long stem anyway, and I pulled it up through the mud and dirt, wiping away the soil to examine it.

Calamus root—useful for everything from a pretty flower in a bouquet to an old-fashioned truth serum with a few special words.

I stood and returned to the flowing river. I washed my hands and cleaned the root before moving on, taking an older, less-used path back to the Ring.

I couldn’t risk someone else walking down to the river and spotting me too soon, so I whispered the newer version of the Chameleon spell.

After trudging through the thick, humid forest, remembering every hidden corner and how much I used to love and cherish it, the wide-open space of the Ring came into view.

I watched from the cover of the dense trees, hidden in the shadows. People were moving between houses. It was a Tuesday, and it seemed everyone was coming back from yard and farming work for an early lunch.

I walked along the edge of the trees, heading towards the main Wardwell house, observing the people below.

In any other year, the commune would have been alive with activity in the summer months. Kids would be laughing, adults chasing after them, elders shaking their heads at both. It would have been like a scene from a Hallmark movie.

But this wasn’t that.

There was a lethargy in the people’s movements. As if they’d been drained. The year had worn them down, the hot summer trapping them.

No, not the summer. Some twenty of their family members had been killed five months ago.

The Wardwell family, a cornerstone of the coven, had been wronged repeatedly. And when one family was off, they all were.

I approached the woods at the back of my family’s house and twisted the single charm on my bracelet clockwise. A new warmth slid between my fingers, signaling my message had been received.

The house looked the same, but I didn’t know what I’d expected. The last time I’d been inside, it had been to rush towards my cousin with some kind of savior complex.

A lot had happened since then. A lot.

There were people talking quietly inside, but loud enough that I could still hear them from the tree line thirty feet away.

I whispered my own version of Jolene’s Chameleon spell, and the simultaneous drain and surge of power washed over my skin. I walked confidently to the back door leading to the kitchen.

The voices drifted faintly through the house; they were in the dining room. I opened the back door, quickly stepped inside, and surveyed the kitchen.

My family, or whoever was present, was preparing for the early lunch.

Several platters of breakfast foods were on the table, ready to be served, along with a steaming pot of tea, currently steeping with the infuser inside.

Quietly, I took a knife out of the drawer. I scraped a few shavings of the root into the teapot and added a few drops of blood, whispering the spell of truth and light.

I removed the infuser and replaced it with the teapot lid. Ready to drink.

A sound echoed from the living room, and I looked up in surprise to see Diana walking in. I held my breath, only to let it out slowly as her eyes glazed over me.

She couldn’t see me, and I used the time to study her as she washed her hands, staring out the window above the sink.

She looked tired and worn. Her cheeks were hollow, a few pounds had been lost from her face and hips, and her once blonde and flowing hair had been cut short and seemed lifeless.

Something had been taken, and it showed. She had aged ten years in a few months, and more guilt washed over me for my poor cousin and what my mother had put her through.

And me as her accomplice.

Diana dried her hands and stared out the window for another long moment with glazed eyes, just standing there, thinking.

My heart officially broke, and I had never felt as wretched in my life. The only consolation was knowing Diana’s stolen daughter was actually safe and well loved. I had loved her as much as time had allowed.

After another moment of staring blankly outside, she returned to the living room with, I assumed, the rest of the family.

A noise outside the kitchen door, a single knock, drew my attention, and I opened it quickly, finding Nina with a sleeping Deedee in her arms.

Wordlessly, I nodded to the older Italian woman, who now had tears in her eyes threatening to spill out.

She mirrored my nod and looked down at the baby she’d played nurse to for the last five months and gave her a kiss on her forehead before handing her over.

I nodded goodbye to Nina, sure this would be the last time I would ever see her, and clicked the door shut.

Deedee remained asleep as she passed into my arms and into the spell’s veil.

Using the side door that led through the laundry to the east wing of bedrooms, I held her tight and moved lightly on my toes, eventually reaching my bedroom.

The room was stale, the air heavy with dust motes in the hot sun streaming through the window, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The family hadn’t given up my room. Hadn’t cast me out of the Wardwell name in shame. I still had a place in the main home.

I carefully laid Deedee on the bed and surrounded her with pillows to prevent any rolling.

I turned to my closet and changed, dropping the very sex-tattered dress with its bloodstains on the floor, a smile spreading across my face as I remembered the mind-blowing, dominating sex.

It hadn’t been the explosion I’d expected, but it had been something I’d definitely needed. A release of tension and energy held somewhere deep inside, and not just in her.

Will had been angry, and it had unexpectedly been a major turn-on.

I’d been so preoccupied at the time with not blowing my cover in Wales and in that bathroom, I hadn’t really considered what a bitch move it was.

Yes, I’d probably deserved more than the simple hair tugs and roughness he had given. But I would have been lying if I’d said I hadn’t liked it.

I pulled on a simple tank top and jeans from the reserve of clothes still in my closet, the smell of old vanilla perfume wafting out of the untouched clothes.

Giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I steeled my nerves. I was ready for this. Whatever happened. I’d been working towards this day for two months, ready for the truth.

I gave Deedee one last glance and left my room barefoot, still confident my spell cloaked me from any eyes as well as from Margaret Wardwell’s ability to sense energy.

I walked into the dining room to face the remaining Wardwell family at the table.

Oblivious to my presence, they were now halfway through their meal, and once more, I took time to study them.

Diana and her husband sat with their two girls across from them. Aunt Vonda and her other two daughters, Clementine and Emily, sat side by side.

A middle-aged man I didn’t recognize sat next to the former, seeming to give her admiring glances every now and then.

And at the head of the table sat dear old Gran, matriarch Margaret Wardwell. Her standard small, tight bun adorned her head, and a long dark-blue dress with long sleeves was on her slender but sturdy body.

Sitting beside her was Constance Warren, another elder and one of Gran’s oldest friends. The two were talking casually in between sips of tea, the pot between them.

I took in the sight of everyone around me. Their faces weren’t exactly etched with misery, but they were definitely somber. Each person seemed lost in their own thoughts.

The room was filled with a quiet lull, punctuated by hushed conversations. It was the same kind of melancholy I’d seen in the Ring. My family was hurting, and they couldn’t hide it.

The gloomy atmosphere persisted, and I found myself drawn to Diana once more. I watched as she picked at her food, her gaze drifting over her two other children seated across from her.

A tear threatened to spill from my eye, but I quickly wiped it away. My cousin didn’t deserve this. Diana was the kindest, the best among us. She was the embodiment of grace and beauty.

I shifted my gaze to Gran, resolved to put an end to this. As if sensing my determination, she finished her tea and brushed her hands together, preparing to stand.

“Alright, Constance and I are going to have young Donovan drive us into town…”

I interrupted her with a soft whisper, feeling the invisibility charm fade as I stood at the opposite end of the table from Gran.

“Actually, Margaret…,” I began, and every head at the table turned to look at me. Eyes widened in surprise at my sudden appearance.

“I was hoping I could have just another five minutes of your time.”