Witch's Awakening (13 page)

“With us and her.” Brenna pointed to the doorway of the dining room where Tasmin sat licking a paw.

“Oh, no.” Eva Grace shook her head. “You're not involving me with Sarah's cat.”

“You know she's not Sarah's,” Brenna retorted. “Tasmin is almost five years old, and she hasn't been claimed by anyone in the family. To be honest, she's rather pissed off about it.”

The cat paused in her grooming to issue a plaintive meow.

Fiona and Eva Grace exchanged startled glances.

“She almost never makes a sound,” Fiona said.

“She's been talking to me quite a bit.” Brenna stooped to stroke Tasmin, earning a soft purr of approval. “When her great-great grandmother died, Tasmin was the natural choice to be Sarah's. I was in Atlanta and still grieving the loss of my cat. The two of you moved out of here and didn't take Tasmin or any of her siblings or her kittens with you. But she and Sarah just do not have a connection. The poor thing's been waiting for someone.”

“So now she's yours?” Fiona said.

“Not entirely.” Brenna studied the gray and white tabby as she stood. Tasmin stretched, preened and pretended she didn't care she was the subject of their conversation. Having had a familiar, Brenna knew she and Tasmin had yet to be linked in the deepest possible way, but she thought that was coming.

Fiona's expression was doubtful. “So how does Tasmin help us find the book?”

“We ask her,” Brenna replied.

“If it's that simple, why did you need us?” Fiona asked.

“She's needs our power,” Eva Grace explained.

Fiona still wasn't convinced. “Sarah will know what we're doing. She'll feel it, and come and stop us.” Eva Grace agreed.

Brenna sighed. Just like in childhood, Fiona and Eva Grace needed to be coaxed into misbehaving. “Sarah has been known to fly, but even she can't get here from Chattanooga in time to stop us.” She held out her hands to her sister and cousin. “What do you say?”

They still hesitated.

“I'm sure the book is rigged with some additional guards,” Eva Grace pointed out. “It would be just like Sarah to have a trap set for whoever finds it. I don't really want to be bitten or shocked by anything this morning.”

“Remember all the times she set itching spells around our hidden Christmas gifts?” Fiona said.

“Every year Brenna would convince us to go snooping for our presents, and every year we scratched ourselves almost to death as punishment.”

Ready to cast a torture spell of her own on both of them, Brenna exclaimed, “We've got to look in that book. I told you on the phone what Jake and I discovered yesterday. We've seen the human records of what was going on in the town the last few times the Woman in White came. We also need to see if there's a record of supernatural activity.”

Fiona frowned. “No one said anything about that kind of activity going on when Aunt Celia passed away.”

“Haven't you figured it out?” Brenna said, rolling her eyes. “It's like a case of collective amnesia with Sarah and the elders. Each time the Woman comes and takes someone they love, they do their best to forget it. No doubt they've used magic to ease the pain. How else would they be able to live year in and year out knowing what was going to happen to someone in their families? How could they have children knowing one of them would die?”

Muscles worked in Eva Grace's throat. Fiona's eyes filled with tears. Without further ado, they each clasped one of Brenna's hands and linked together as well.

“Thank the goddess,” Brenna murmured. She glanced over at the cat. “Tasmin? Won't you join us?”

The tabby slunk toward them, wound herself around their legs several times, sniffing at Fiona's high-topped sneakers and Eva Grace's elegant high-heeled sandals before she settled in the middle of their circle like a gray sphinx.

Brenna, Fiona and Eva Grace looked at each other, down at Tasmin, then up at the hall ceiling. Brenna felt her mind falling, blending into the familiar rhythms of the other two women's thoughts. Eva Grace was open and accepting, but Fiona still held some fear.

Brenna squeezed her sister's hand. “Let go now. It's just us. Just as we've always been.”

With that, Fiona released her anxieties. The craftsman-style chandelier overhead began to sway. The front screen door banged open as a breeze blew into the hall. The three of them united as only family witches could.

Locking her gaze with Tasmin's, Brenna said, “Cats do roam and cats do know, all the secrets houses show. Cat, use your powers to search every nook. Find our family's magic book.”

Tasmin blinked. For a moment, Brenna feared the spell hadn't worked. Maybe she was wrong about this feline's abilities. Then the cat meowed, a surly and demanding sound.

As if on cue, books flew off a long, low shelf outside the dining room, making Fiona jump and Eva Grace gasp. Their circle held and at the rear of the top shelf sat the bulging, untidy mess that was
The Connelly Book of Magic
.

“Oh, good grief,” Brenna muttered. “Only Sarah would hide a book in a bookcase near the front door.”

“She knows us too well,” Eva Grace added. “We always overlook the obvious.”

Tasmin meowed again. The wind in the hallway died and the front door banged shut. The witches dropped hands.

“You're a good cat,” Brenna praised Tasmin. “Tuna for you for lunch.” She turned to pick up the book.

“Watch out,” Fiona warned. “Remember there could be traps.”

But Brenna knew there were none. She was right because she picked up the book without a problem. This was bad. Sarah was too complacent. The book held magic and secrets no one but Connelly witches should see. The guards hadn't held against the three of them and Tasmin. What if an outsider had found it?

“Let's get lunch and study this,” Brenna said, leading the way to the kitchen.

An hour later, Tasmin was asleep in a patch of sunshine on the dining room window seat, her belly full of tuna. Eva Grace, Fiona and Brenna were at the table, staring at each other, aghast.

“The book is in worse shape than we thought,” Brenna said, shaking her head over the collection of yellowing pages spread out on the table. “What was Sarah thinking?” What had once been a powerful book was now little more than a pile of loose papers.

Fiona sighed. “There's so much missing from the history.”

“Maybe this is why Sarah called your parents,” Eva Grace added. “With their knowledge, their skill with history and fables, perhaps they can fit the pieces of this back together so it tells a complete story.”

Brenna shook her head, stubbornly refusing to believe her parents could help.

Fiona and Eva Grace exchanged a look.

“What?” Brenna demanded.

Her sister laid her hand over Brenna's. “I'll bet it wasn't easy for Sarah to call Mom and Dad. She has never called them. Don't you think they're worth a try? Our lives are on the line here. Sarah understands that, and she was willing to ask our parents to come back to a place they obviously don't want to be. Sarah doesn't do that to any of us unless she needs us.”

“She never asked you to come home from Atlanta.” Eva Grace's almond-shaped eyes were luminous as she looked at Brenna.

“Maybe she should have.” Brenna bit her lip as she looked back at the book. “She should have asked me to help with this.”

Eva Grace agreed, but she added, “We don't need your father the Rhodes scholar to tell us to get these things organized.” She picked up scraps of paper and clippings haphazardly stuck between pages and began sorting them into piles. “Let's put what history we can find together. We'll sort the spells and charms, the recipes, and gardening tips. Going through it all may help us find what we're looking for.”

“I'll get my laptop,” Brenna said, rising. “We can index everything.”
And not need our parents' help when they get here
, she added to herself.

Before she got more than a step, she heard a car rumbling up the drive.

“I hope that's not Sarah,” Fiona said.

Tasmin rose from her perch, ears alert, whiskers bristling. Then she shot out of the room like a gray streak.

Eva Grace looked nervous as she headed to the window.

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Brenna said. “Y'all need to chill. We have just as much right to this book as Sarah does, maybe more. We're the ones the Woman in White is after.”

Eva Grace peered out the window. “It's Willow Scanlan.”

“I was hoping we'd see her soon.” Brenna waved a hand over the book's contents on the table, setting guards in place before she went to greet the old woman. “I want to be sure the fae aren't involved in what's happening here.”

“Don't insult Willow by suggesting that,” Eva Grace admonished as she and Fiona trailed Brenna to the front door.

“I'm not stupid,” Brenna said.

Fiona whispered, “They say Willow has buried sixteen husbands.”

“They also say she's been here since the first settlers,” Eva Grace added.

“And probably knows everything we need to find out.” Brenna opened the front door and went outside to greet the old lady.

She mounted the front steps with a spryness that belied her suspected ancient age. Her face was lined and her hair was white against the vivid purple of the heavy suit she wore. Despite the heat of the day, she looked cold.

“Hello, Willow,” Brenna said. “It's so nice to see you. Won't you come in?”

“I'll just stay out here.” Willow sat heavily in one of the porch's many rattan chairs. She looked tiny and frail, but her eyes snapped with life as she studied the three witches. A smile touched her lips, revealing sharp, white teeth. “My, but you're all healthy looking.”

As was always the case when confronting a fae, Brenna had the uneasy feeling she was being considered a meal. She turned from that thought, and Willow's teeth, by looking out at the woman's long, dark Cadillac where an old man sat straight-backed in the driver's seat.

“Doesn't your friend want to come in?”

“He's just there to drive me. He'll wait,” the old woman said.

“Can we get you some sweet tea and Sarah's ginger cookies?” Eva Grace offered.

“No,” Willow said with typical fae bluntness. “I've come to give you information. Isn't that what you want from me?”

“Yes,” Brenna responded, just as directly. She started to ask a question, but Willow cut her off with a sharp look.

“First, this mess is none of my kind's making,” Willow told them, her eyes narrowing.

Fiona began, “I was just sure none of you—”

Her words halted with a scathing glare from Willow. Fiona fell back a step. It always amazed Brenna that her sister talked to the dead, but was otherwise easily frightened.

Willow looked at Brenna. “What you're seeking will be difficult to find. You need to keep your search focused. Don't give up and take the easy way out.”

Brenna was puzzled. “There isn't anything easy about this.”

“It's always easier to give in. That's what most Connellys have done in the past. There are only a few of you who truly wanted to fight.”

Suddenly, Fiona waved her hand as though fighting off a gnat attack. “Not now, please,” she said, her voice laced with frustration.

Willow raised a hand crippled with arthritis and addressed the empty space beside Fiona. “Leave the girl alone and be on your way. We need to talk.”

Eva Grace and Brenna's heads moved like spectators at Wimbledon as they gazed between Fiona and the ancient fae.

“Are you a medium, Willow?” Fiona ventured.

“I have good sight, but I'm not here to discuss my gifts. You girls need to ferret out this evilness and banish it from our town.”

“What do you think it is?” Eva Grace asked.

“That's not my problem,” Willow snapped. “I'm just here to tell you it's time to go to work and save our town just as the first Sarah Connelly did in her day. She was a powerful woman. I hope one of you inherited that.”

Brenna dared another question. “Did you know the first Sarah, Willow?”

The old woman cackled as she pushed herself to her feet. “Now how in the world would that be possible?”

Without another word, Willow crossed the porch, went down the steps and out to the car. The old man got out and helped her into the backseat. They drove away while the witches watched in silence.

Eva Grace murmured, “I haven't seen her in a while. She's so old she looks like she could dry up and blow away any minute.”

“She terrifies me,” Fiona shivered. “I had no idea she talked to the dead, too.”

“I knew she wouldn't just tell us what we need to know.” Brenna's disappointment was keen. “We have to get some answers on who the Woman in White is. Who gave her the right to make demands of our ancestors? If the first Sarah Connelly was so strong, how was this evil spirit able to get the best of her in a bargain?”

“Willow said we have to save our town,” Eva Grace added. “Will it end when the Woman in White takes one of us?” She shivered despite the heat and looked frightened. “Or will someone else have to die like Garth did?”

Fiona put her arm around her cousin. “Surely if it's just hopeless, she would tell us.”

“Fae don't give advice that simple.” Brenna sighed. “But I do think she was trying to encourage us. Let's get back to fixing the book.”

Before they could move, another vehicle came up the driveway. “Kind of busy around here today,” Brenna said as she recognized her Aunt Doris's pickup.

For Brenna, the pickup was just one of the many differences between Doris and Frances. Although the twin aunts were identical and dressed alike, Doris had married a carpenter and still assisted her son-in-law in the family business by making supply runs. She had driven the truck for more than fifteen years, while Frances rarely went three years without a new sedan.