“Vaguely.” His face tightened into a squinch—not quite a grimace and not quite a frown, but a squinch.
I grabbed his cold hand and squeezed, my body beginning to hum and buzz with my burgeoning excitement. “I can do this.”
“But don’t you need at least two witches for a spell like that? It’s what you told me before.”
“Yes. You’re right, but I’m not doing that spell. I don’t want to walk through the spirit world. I literally want to walk back in time. I want to be able to interact, to talk with and make conversation with others. I want to literally walk through their memories, the ones trapped in this curse. Don’t you see? They would know. They would know exactly who did it. Why, Mer had been just about to tell me who it was before she was laid low. It’s brilliant. It’ll work! I know it will.”
Zane grabbed my hands. His excitement was palpable. “I think that whatever you set your mind to, you can succeed. And you will.”
He stood and brought me up with him then squeezed me tight and pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “I have to go and tuck Edward into bed soon, but promise me that if you do this, you don’t leave without saying goodbye first.”
I curled my fingers into his shirt. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Very good. You’re amazing, Zinnia. Just wanted you to know that.”
I grinned. “I think for once I might actually have a good idea. My aunts should be proud.”
“I can’t see why they wouldn’t be.” His eyes twinkled with pride as he looked down at me.
“IT’S CAKED, IS WHAT it is,” Aunty Prim told me a little while later after she’d returned home and I’d excitedly told her of my plan. My brows shot to my forehead. That wasn’t quite the reaction I’d expected to receive.
“Aunty, I’m sure there’s a way to—”
“Canna work. None can travel through time, lassie. ’Tis impossible,” Aunty Vi said, never looking up as she stirred her pot of boiling delicate underthings with a large wooden paddle.
Aunt Hyacinth was still at the town hall but would likely return anytime. Apparently for the safety of the entire town, they had voted on imprisoning Sage in one of the shifter pits until they could get a handle on her. But even that had further divided the town. Half of them believed Sage was the walking embodiment of the dark lord himself, and the other half thought I was cracked in the noodle and that I’d not seen what I thought I’d seen at the diner when Sage had shown up and Meri had gotten cursed.
I wasn’t inclined to disabuse them of that notion either. I was completely doubting myself about almost everything now, except this.
I steepled my fingers together and pleaded with my two aunts to just listen. Zane was off checking up on Edward, leaving me alone with them. I really would have liked having him there. Zane made me calm and helped me to see the forest for the trees. He never overcomplicated things. He got to the root of any matter in a thoughtful—I might even call it simple—way. It was one of his best qualities.
After I’d explained my idea to him, he’d looked surprised but also willing. And I loved that about him. I loved that he didn’t make me feel like a silly child for daring to think outside the box.
“Nay. Nay. Nay.” Aunt Primrose rocked in the wooden rocker her own grandda had made her many lifetimes ago. The wood was stained a rich, cheery red, and it was full of whorls and knots but smoothed down through years of constant use. Normally she would gently glide up and down as she studied her book of spells or knitted a new pair of woolen socks, but today she was moving at breakneck speed with obvious agitation. “This canna happen. I understand that ye want to fix this, lass, that ye feel like ye’ve got some skin in this game, but you have’nae. This wasn’t yer—”
“Aunty,” I barked, holding up my hand to stop her. “This can happen, and you know it. You know it. There is one in this town who can do the impossible.”
Her nostrils flared, and her skin paled white as bone as she looked at me. The movements of the rocker instantly ceased.
“Ye’ll owe him if you do this, Zinny,” she said in a low, fervent hiss. Her puff of blue hair crackled like a flame around the crown of her head. “He is not of this town. He can’nae be trusted.”
I clenched my molars hard and shook my head. “What did he mean, Aunt? What did he mean when he told me to tell you what he told me to tell you? What did he mean when he said, ‘What she did. What they all did.’ Was he talking about Aunty Cinth? Was he talking about all of you?”
A vein in her neck pulsed so hard that I could see it throbbing from where I stood. She wrung her hands together. I looked at Aunt Vi, who was unnaturally still and quiet in the corner. Though I knew she knew I was watching her, she refused to meet my eyes. She had her head tipped low, humming what sounded like a bitter lullaby beneath her breath.
I rolled my lips between my teeth, feeling sick to my stomach and unsure about everything. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, imagining this must have all been in my head. But from the moment Malachite dragged Sage out of Mirror, I’ve seen less and less of all of you. At first, I thought you were just busy studying your spells, but please tell me you’ve not been avoiding me. Tell me I’m wrong, Aunty. Tell me you’re not all keeping secrets from me.”
Aunt Violet shook her head. “We ken—”
“Hush, Violet.” Aunty Prim turned, glaring harshly at Violet from upon her perch, reminding me of an angry kitten the way she fairly bristled.
Aunt Violet, never one to be sad or grumpy for long, stood up with her eyes watering and raced from the room. I stared gaping at her retreating backside, a sick feeling worming like hot magma through my gut.
“I’m going to Time.”
Aunt Primrose trembled, looking at me with large, wide eyes. “An’ I’m beggin’ ye, lassie, to not. I’m beggin’ ye to give us time to work through this. We have Sage now.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t feel right, and you know it. You know it. From the second I said her name, a sick feeling has taken root in me. Something’s not right here. It’s not her. Or maybe it is, but there is more to this story. There is more. You didn’t see the way Meri looked at me before she fell.”
Aunt Prim stood and walked over to me, her hair looking like a poof of blue cotton candy. She gently cupped my cheek and shook her head. “Aye, and ye yerself said that she and Sage exchanged words. Does it not stand to reason then that it was Sage just as you suspected all along? Why are ye looking for shadows where there are none, girl? Ye want to think there is something more devious afoot, but there is no. Only a dark witch fashed in the head.”
I wiggled out of my aunt’s firm grasp and tossed my arms out wide in a gesture of frustration. “You know I have the sight, Aunty. You know I do. And always you’ve taught me to listen to it, to heed the inner voice of the divine. And I am telling you now, there is more to this story. There is. You must trust me.”
I thought she would finally come to my side, that she would finally hear me and see that I meant what I said with all of my heart and soul, that I was right. It was Aunt Primrose who’d taught me most about precog and listening to the divine’s will through the stillness of one’s heart and mind.
But instead, her intelligent blue eyes gleamed with frost, and her lips thinned in irritation. “Dinnae do this, girl. Meddling in time, it’s no a good thing. Mucking about wi’ it, it comes at a cost. It always comes at a cost. Give us time, time to fix what... Sage has done.”
My nostrils flared. “Why did you pause? Why? Tell me why. Tell me something to make me believe you now.”
Her jaw trembled, and she dropped her hand from my face slowly.
Pain tore through me like a hot knife through my heart. My aunts never lied to me, but they were now. They all were. They never liked anything so much as meddling in my life, but ever since Sage appeared from out of Illusion, they’d been going out of their way to avoid me. They were well-learned witches, and yes, there was always a certain amount of study required before enact
ing any spell, but the fact that they pored so diligently through their tomes with gleams of frantic fanaticism made me worry that either they were in over their heads, or worst of all, that they knew what was happening and were terrified out of their minds about it.
There was something about all of this that they didn’t want me to know, and Time had known it. I was starting to feel that the warning he’d given me to give to them hadn’t been for them at all, but rather for me.
I pulled my petite and frail aunt into my arms and hugged her tight. She shook so hard, I felt her teeth chatter against my breast. Her fingers dug into the back of my white blouse, bunching the fabric in her gnarled, arthritic fingers.
“Dinnae do this, lassie. Please.” The last word came out as more of a whimper.
I steeled my heart against her plea. I wanted to honor my aunts. They were the only parents I’d ever known. But deep down, I knew that in this matter, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I was being guided by the divine, driven by instinct. And either I followed my intuition to wherever the truth led me, or I would go mad with this.
“I’m going to him. There is no longer a choice in the matter. I’ve lost too many already. How many more must we lose before we make the right choice?”
“But she’s locked away, lass. It’s her. It must be her.” Her words were naught more than a creaky, rusted-sounding whisper.
I shook my head, hurting at the quiver in her tone. She didn’t believe what she was saying, not any part of it. And it hurt me that she would lie to me this way. After years of nothing but trust between us, I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.
Kissing her forehead, I whispered, “Don’t tell Aunty Cinth until I’ve left. I don’t want her to stop me. But I will go back in time. I must.”
She hugged me so hard that my ribs creaked, and I grimaced.
“There is nothing I can say to stop ye, is there, milady?”
I smiled sadly at the sound of her pet name for me. It was one last plea from her to get me to stop, to think about how much I owed them and about the respect I’d always had for them. She was pleading with me to leave well enough alone. I stared deep into her shimmering blue eyes and gave an infinitesimal shake of my head.
Her breathing came out as a ragged shudder, and her shoulders slumped. “Then for the gods’ sake, dinnae muck around with anything. Dinnae change a thing, not a jot or a tittle. Talk to no one. Make yerself as inconspicuous as possible. Even one thing could alter the very fabric of our existence.”
I shivered, only just realizing the enormity of what I was about to undertake.
“I promise,” I said.
She nodded as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Then take this.” She yanked a ring off her swollen middle finger and handed it to me, placing it firmly into the center of my palm. It was an ancient family heirloom, hammered iron fitted with a small cluster of diamonds around a raw white sapphire stone. It had the image of twin dragons etched into the sides. Legend had it that Great-Great-Great-Grandma Innes had crafted it from iron and dragon’s blood. It was one of our coven’s strongest talismans.
“For protection,” she whispered low. “May the goddess smile down upon you. Now go, lass, before Cinthy comes ’ome. Go, milady.” She wrapped my fingers around the ring and gently kissed my knuckles.
My brows dipped as I suddenly felt scared, where I’d not been before. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to ask Time to do this? What if Aunt Primrose was right? What if it really was Sage, and the key to unlocking the sleeping curse could be found in their grimoires? Was I being impatient? Flighty? I was young, just barely a full-fledged witch. There was still so much I didn’t know. Was I being a fool?
My aunt’s smile was soft. “Follow the divine, Zinny. Ye were right. Ye must always follow the divine. Go.”
She turned me around and practically shoved me away. I set my jaw, even as my stomach roiled with a flux of violent nerves.
I took out my wand and twirled it into a figure eight, opening a tunnel to travel through to the Haunted Boot. I needed to tell Zane goodbye, needed to make him understand why I was doing this, and I didn’t want to leave without seeing him one last time.
I stepped through the portal, and just as it began to seal shut behind me, I could have sworn Aunty Prim whispered two words to me on the breeze.
“I’m sorry.”
But when I twirled to ask her what she meant, I was already being whisked away in a tunnel of stars.
Chapter 7
Primrose
I HEARD THE CREAK OF an old wooden floorboard squeak as Violet came back into the room and walked around me sitting on my rocker. She looked as lovely in her DayGlo orange dress with a purple sash cinched around her ample waist as a weathered orangutan might. I still adored her, but we certainly weren’t what we’d once been.
Once upon a time, we sisters had been the shining pearls of all the paranormal world, but with years, our pearls had lost their luster. We were old now, no longer quite so perky of bubs, and certainly nowhere near as spry as we’d been in our youth. But unless I glanced in a looking glass, I sometimes forgot the lines that now wreathed my face or the spots that marred my hands. In my mind, we were still nubile and young, much like Zinny was.
But with age had come wisdom.
I eyed my nervous sister sitting on the faded royal-purple couch before me. She was picking at a loose thread on her skirt with wonderfully pudgy fingers.
I spoke into the silence. “Weel, should I no have done it, do ye think? Should I have stopped Zinny?”
Her gray eyes flashed behind her gold-rimmed spectacles perched precariously on the tip of her very tiny, very rounded nose. “Hyacinth will no care for this. Ye ken it, sister.” Her words were a whispered but hurried hush.
“No.” I shook my head and gently rocked, comforted by the feel of memories—Thorn memories—infused within the very wood of what had once been a powerful Hazelwood tree. I could feel the hands of my long-departed grandmother whittling the pieces together and hear the ghostly laughter of child after Thorn child, strong with the magick of our ancestors, rocking to and fro in the very spot I now occupied. I could hear the hum and song of my grandsire as he plucked at his lute, singing with his robust tenor voice of the magickal fae realms and the mysticism of the rolling green hills of yore. Tonight, I drew on the comfort of the past even as I tried to turn off the knowledge of the truths Zinnia was sure to unearth.
Time, that perfidious man, had warned us all long ago. Memories that had once been locked away even from us had slowly begun to be remembered with Sage’s abrupt entrance into all our lives. And what we were starting to remember, well...it would make none of us look good.
We’d known this day was coming and that our deeds would certainly catch up to us someday. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We were supposed to tell her when the time was right, when it was appropriate. Not now. Not yet. Not when she would hate us for our choices. The actions we’d taken, actions that at the time—and even now—were absolutely the right ones had come at a steep cost, far steeper than any of us had anticipated.
“What do we do, Rosey?” Violet asked in her perpetually youthful voice. “Do we stop her? Do we tell Cinthy what’s been—”
I cut my eyes toward hers and shook my head slowly, continuing to rock back and forth as I drew on the strength of the past. “We do naught, sister. We’ve known this hour would come ever since Sage’s arrival.”
“But she will hate us forever. I ken it. How could she no?” she asked meekly, tears forming in the corners of her gray eyes. My own throat squeezed with the breathless panic of it all.
The Violet of today was nothing at all like the Violet of yesteryear. Back then, she’d been bold, powerful, and had had the strongest magick of us all. None knew of it, of course, because after the incident of that night, she’d changed so radically, so massively that I knew magick had to have been involved. But I’d never asked her about it, and she’d never told me. No
w all of Blue Moon simply knew of her as the sweet, bubbly one who was a wee addlepated in the head but had a kind heart. And though she’d always been kind, Violet had never before been so forgetful or empty-headed.
All the potions she drank weren’t so she could remember as the rest of the town likely assumed—they were so she could forget. And the thing she wanted to forget was something I wasn’t even sure I knew. I stared at my sister, wondering anew just how well I actually knew her at all.
The front door suddenly opened, ushering in a strong, lilac-scented breeze and stirring the unrolled scrolls upon our writing desk. Hyacinth stood in the entryway, smiling broadly as she slipped off her black gloves.
“There,” she singsonged, unpinning the hat from her head, completely unaware just yet of the turmoil inside. “I do believe we’ve bought ourselves at least a wee bit more time now. The town is satisfied that we’ve taken care of the problem that is Sage. Poor girl, had to set her in one of the shifter’s stone towers. But it keeps her from harm and makes the town feel safer. I’m rather certain we’ve bought ourselves at least another month. Let’s hope, aye? We’ve still much work left to...”
Her smile slowly faded as she looked at the two of us. Violet was openly sobbing now, blubbering really, holding a lacy doily to her mouth as she dabbed at a river of tears that never seemed to cease.
“Wut is the matter?” Hyacinth asked as her eyes grew suddenly wide and her normally pale mint-green skin turned a darker shade.
Hyacinth might have been the baby, but she was by far the quickest of us.
I worked my jaw from side to side, words completely lost to me.
Her nostrils flared, and she gasped, covering her mouth with trembling fingers. “Nay. No, it canna be. Ye did not let the foolish chit—”
“She’s no a girl,” I said. “Not no more, sister. And long has she no been. He warned us. He did.”
“I will get her. I will stop her.” She twirled on her Victorian heels, causing her sequined skirt to flare out around her ankles in a shimmering flash of sparkling obsidian.