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Willa reached for the mug, but then hesitated. “A potion?’
Char laughed. “It’s just herbs. Water infused with rose petals and a lot of honey.”
Willa nodded and took a sip. The warm, sweet liquid moved down her throat, calm spread through her. She took a deep breath. “It’s just hard not to worry when I had this awful dream earlier tonight . . .”
Char threw her hands out in front of her as if stopping traffic. “Wait! You had a dream? What happened?”
Willa blinked, surprised. “Umm . . . I was running in a forest, trying to get to Simon. He was in a cave and I couldn’t get in. Then the sky broke and fell in pieces.”
“Did you use your Dream Cradle?’
Willa nodded.
Charlotte spun around to the group who were still lost in discussion. “Rowan! Willa had a dream.”
The talking paused, everyone looked up. Rowan’s eyes widened. “Let’s see it!”
Chapter 27
Waxing Crescent
Present Day, October
Amelia hadn’t opened her eyes in days, possibly weeks. After realizing her afterlife was tied to the cave, the same as her life, she’d closed her mind off and simply drifted, the years meaning nothing. But then she sensed the Darkness. The stink of it beat against her senses, a long-forgotten terror welled up inside her. Amelia hid behind a tree, biting her lower lip, as she watched the witches arrive at the cave. There were two of them, a thin man and a blond beauty, both dressed in black. Between them walked two other people—a young man and a woman, hands bound and moving awkwardly, like sleep walkers.
A spell! They’re under some sort of spell.
Amelia moved closer, her curiosity outweighing her fear. When she saw the Dark man’s face, she almost collapsed to the ground. She gripped the closest tree, wrapping her arms around it. It was him, or almost him. The resemblance was horribly unsettling. The same cold, silver eyes and the same thin, oval face. The same potent evil oozing off him.
In that moment, looking at his face, the years compressed and broke through her icy walls. She was standing in the cave again, the Dark witch’s strong hands gripping her upper arm. As though it were happening all over again, she remembered Solace’s white, dead face looking up from the ground; the cold hardness of the chains biting into her skin; the crackling magic cloud above her.
Left for dead.
If her stomach had held food, she would have vomited it out on the tree. With effort, she pulled her eyes away from the man’s face and over to his victims. The boy . . .
Impossible!
Amelia stepped through the trees, her eyes locked on his handsome face. She got as close as she dared, not sure if one of the Dark witches would be able to see her. It wasn’t his physical features that she recognized, it was his powers. It was the energy flowing under his skin, the blue hum of it sang to her.
Is it really you?
Amelia wanted to run to the boy, put her hands on his face and look into his eyes, but she knew she needed to be patient.
The Dark man spoke to the blond woman. “We’ll come back later. Tonight, I break them.” The woman nodded and pushed the female victim forward. Amelia noticed her strawberry-blond hair, the dark crescents under her eyes, her too-skinny frame.
Poor thing!
A surge of pity and a strong desire to help moved through her.
But what can I do?
The witches moved into the cave, their footsteps echoing over the stone. She waited near the entrance, tucked into a crevice of rock, out of sight. A couple of minutes later, the Dark witches emerged and walked away. Amelia watched their backs disappear into the woods. Then she moved to the entrance of the cave, standing in the gaping, black opening.
In all her years of purgatory as a ghost, she had not once had the courage or desire to go in. The memories were too harrowing.
She closed her eyes briefly and then stepped in.
The memories and feelings flooded her almost instantly. Images flitted across her mind, and the echo of her screams moved through her ears, but she ignored them. The young man and woman were sprawled out on the floor next to each other. It was the same spot where she and Solace had waited.
Amelia shook her head. She glided over to the boy and crouched at his side. His yellow curls were smashed against the cold ground, and there was blood under his lower lip, but she didn’t see an injury.
You put up a fight. Good for you.
She brushed her hand over his hair, enjoying the springy softness. Then she placed both her hands to his chest, pressing them flat against the solidness. Immediately she felt his power flowing inside him and she recognized it.
It is you! The baby who saved me!
“Oh, no! What are you doing here?” she whispered. “You can’t be here.”
She explored his powers further, reading his soul. There was something else inside him, something . . .
“What is that?” She pressed her hands harder. “Sun and moon! You have my powers, my magic. How is that possible?” She thought the curse of the Dark covens had killed her powers, taken them away. Could it be that the curse had only bound them? That her death had somehow released her gift into this boy?
But that wasn’t all. Amelia cocked her head, closed her eyes and felt deeper.
“Impossible!” she whispered. “You have Solace’s gift as well.”
She gasped.
“And all this has turned you into a True Healer. How is that possible? How is any of this possible?”
Amelia sat back, tired from the effort of searching inside him. She gazed at the side of his face. You have me and Solace inside you. The cave walls suddenly seemed to press in on her. She looked around, panic in her stomach. “You can’t be here. I can’t let you die in this cave like we did.”
She began to think, harder and longer than she had in years, her fear and sadness momentarily forgotten. At last, she had an idea. It would be difficult, probably impossible, but worth a try. Shifting forward, she put a hand to his chest again.
“Show me who you love,” she whispered. The force of the love inside him hit her so hard that she rocked backward. She inhaled sharply. “And great love. Oh, my boy, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
Amelia leaned down and spoke into his ear, “I will save you. I will find a way. No matter what it takes.”
Willa sprinted upstairs and snatched the Dream Cradle off the bedside table. She took a deep breath when Simon’s scent filled her nose; he always smelled like the mountains and a touch of peppermint. To avoid another break down, she hurried out of the room and back to the covens.
“Here it is!” she called.
“Good!” Rowan said, moving to her. “Do you remember the spell Elliot taught you?”
“I have it written down.” She was antsy with anticipation. Would her dream really be able to help them find Simon and Wynter?
“Good. Take out the moonstone, hold it out in your hand like this.” Rowan put his hand out in front of him, parallel to the ground. “Think of the dream in your mind and then say the retrieval spell. Got it?’
“Got it,” Willa tugged open the pouch and pulled out the cool, iridescent stone and the paper. She handed the pouch to Char who was attentive at her side. Deep breath. She held out the stone, glanced at the paper in her other hand and then said the words of the spell. “Dream Cradle, reveal your nighttime keep. Moonstone, reveal what you hold deep.”
Heat filled the room, the magic bouncing around her hand, sniffing at the moonstone. A moment later the stone burst to life with a brilliant white light. Willa blinked and turned her head away. Then, like an old-fashioned film projector, the moonstone threw out the scenes of her dream, masking the cozy, light room with the image of a forest in the dark of night.
Willa stared in wonder as the dream played out for everyone to see. When Simon’s ghostly visage appeared in the cave, Char reached out and took Willa’s hand; Willa was grateful for the anchor. With her scream of pain as the shard sliced
into her leg, the dream scene flickered off, the moonstone stopped glowing.
Willa lowered her arm and looked expectantly at Rowan, who was frowning at the spot where her image had just been. “Rowan? Does it help?”
He turned to her and exhaled, brought a hand to his forehead. “Not enough.”
The small balloon of hope in her chest deflated instantly. She dropped into a chair, slumped forward. “I’m sorry.”
Rowan sat in the chair next to her. “Don’t be sorry. It just isn’t the solid clue we were hoping for. The forest looks like the ones we have in Colorado, but a lot of forests look like that. And that cave could be anywhere.” He patted her leg. “We’ll have to keep trying other things.”
Rowan left and Charlotte dropped into his place. Willa leaned back, suddenly heavy with exhaustion, the pace and stress of the last few days catching up to her.
“Sorry, Willa. We’ll find another way.”
Willa nodded. “Do you think it’d be okay if I go lay down for a bit?”
Char nodded, “Of course. Go. I’ll wake you if we find anything.”
“Thanks, Char.” Willa slipped discreetly out of the room and went upstairs. She closed the door to her room and leaned back against it, taking a long breath. “This is all my fault,” she whispered. “Me and my stupid dreams! And now Simon is . . .” Fresh tears burned her eyes, but she pushed them back and crossed to the window. A colorless sunrise backlit the Tetons, accenting their sharp, rocky edges. She closed her eyes and tried to feel for Simon again. Simon? Are you there?
No answer.
She sighed. Her phone buzzed from the nightstand and she threw herself at it, thinking it might be him. But it wasn’t. The caller ID read, “Mom’s Cell.” Willa sank to the bed, staring at the phone.
The ringing stopped. A moment later the phone vibrated indicating a new voicemail. Her thumb hovered over the phone. In the agony of missing Simon, her fight with her mother suddenly seemed so stupid. She pushed play.
“Willa, honey, hi. It’s mom. I hope things are okay and that Wynter is helping you understand what I couldn’t. I hope you are safe. Please call or text soon so I know.” A pause. “Umm . . . Bertie called. She said you texted about not being able to come in to the museum for a while, but didn’t leave a reason. You know how nosey she is. I wasn’t sure what to tell her, so I said you and Simon got a last minute chance to go to New York for the weekend to see a show. I hope that’s okay.” There was a long pause. “Okay, well. I love you. Bye.”
Willa sniffed back the tears and pushed the callback button. Her mom answered after only half a ring. “Willa! Are you okay?”
“No, mom,” she cried. “I’m not.”
“What’s wrong? I can come get you.”
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s . . .” she sighed. How would she explain? “Simon’s missing. The Dark witches took him and I don’t know what to do. What if . . . what if . . .”
“What? Oh, no! What can I do? Do you want me to call the police? The FBI?”
Willa couldn’t help, but laugh. “No, Mom, they can’t help, but thanks.” A short pause. “I’m so scared. I’m scared I’ll never see him again and I don’t know how I’d live with that. He’s . . . part of me. We shouldn’t have come here. It’s all my fault.”
“Willa, it’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine. I tried to hide who you are. If I’d told you about being a witch and helped you learn how to use the magic, maybe none of this would have happened. Do you know how sorry I am?”
“Yes,” Willa whispered. “And I’m sorry I left so mad, but it really hurt.”
“I know, and you have every right to be mad. Be mad as long you need, but please talk to me. I don’t want to lose you over this.”
“You won’t.”
Sarah sighed into the phone. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear you say that.”
A prickle of instinct moved up Willa’s neck and she lifted her head, nearly dropping the phone. A ghost hovered near the window. She blinked at the woman, who was gesturing to Willa to come.
“Willa? Willa? Are you still there?’
Willa flinched and looked at the phone. “Mom . . . I’ll call you later. I gotta go. Love you.” Willa set her phone down and got up to walk over. The ghost, an attractive woman with auburn hair and bright green eyes, studied Willa as she approached. When she was close, the ghost asked, “Are you her?”
“Her who?” Willa asked.
“The girl who loves the boy in the cave.”
Willa gasped, her heart suddenly pounding furiously. “Yes.”
The ghost smiled, her face shimmering.
“I’m so glad I found you. It wasn’t easy,” she said, looking around the room with fascination. “It’s nice to see some new scenery.”
“I’m sorry, but do you know where he is?” Willa stepped closer, trying to regain the ghost’s wandering attention.
The ghost shook her head and looked back at Willa. “I’m sorry. The boy. He’s in the cave.”
Willa’s jaw dropped. “Yes. But where?”
“I can show you how to get there if you have a moonstone.”
“Yes . . . yes, I do,” Willa stuttered, and then ran over to get the Dream Cradle. She hurried back to the ghost. “Here it is.”
The ghost fluttered closer. “I don’t have all my magic anymore and I’ve exhausted myself finding a way to you. I will need your help to make the moonstone spell work.”
Willa nodded. “Of course. Anything.”
“Good. Hold it in your hands, call to the magic, charge it.”
Willa did as she said, gripping the stone hard. “Now, say this spell: Moonstone, keep this secret safe and sound. Moonstone, help make what was lost, found.”
Willa nodded and then repeated the spell in a breathless whisper. Then she watched as the ghost placed her wispy hands on either side of Willa’s head, touching her—Willa felt only a slight, cool breeze.
“I’m going to give you directions to the cave. Give you everything you need to know to help him and the woman. The moonstone will keep it for you and then guide you. Understand?” the ghost asked.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“Say the spell again.”
“Moonstone, keep this secret safe and sound. Moonstone, help make what was lost, found.”
With a hard slap of pain, Willa felt the information move from the ghost into her own mind, then down her hands and into the moonstone. The stone grew burning hot in her hand, but she held it tightly.
A moment later, the process was over and the ghost stepped back. Willa reached out to steady herself on the wall. The last image—Simon lying on the hard ground of the cave—was burned into her mind. She looked up at the ghost, her white nightdress moving around her as if there was a breeze. “Thank you so much. How did you know? Who are you?”
The ghost smiled. “My name is Amelia. I was once trapped in that cave myself and have never been able to truly leave it. It is my endless hell. And the boy—what is his name?”
“Simon.”
“Simon.” She smiled again. “Simon is a part of me and a part of a very dear friend. I couldn’t let him die in that cave like we did.”
“Amelia? Are you Amelia Plate? Ruby Plate’s granddaughter?”
The ghost blinked in surprise. “Yes, I am. How did you know that?”
“I’m from Twelve Acres. But wait . . . what do you mean Simon is a part of you? What happened to you in the cave?”
“Amazing,” the ghost whispered, her eyes drifted away. She looked as if she was listening to something. Her face darkened, her expression suddenly very sad. “I’m sorry, but I must go. Hurry. Get to the cave as fast as you can. They don’t have much time.”
“Wait, Amelia. Wait!” Willa called out, but Amelia’s ghost was already gone. She sighed and then whispered to the empty room, “Thank you.”
She spun around and charged downstairs, bursting into the living room, holding the moonstone out in front of her. �
��I know where they are!”
Chapter 28
Waxing Crescent
Present Day, October
The air smelled of ancient dirt, stagnant water, and shadows of Darkness. Wynter didn’t want to open her eyes. That would make it too real.
I can’t do this again. I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!
The hard ground of the cave pushed back against her, making sore, aching spots all over her body. The feeling all too familiar. But she didn’t move to sit up. She just lay there, thinking.
I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry, Rowan.
In the darkness, Simon stirred next to her. Wynter couldn’t decide if it was worse or better that he was with her.
“Wynter?” he whispered.
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
She smiled feebly. “No, sweetie, I’m not okay.”
Simon shifted and soon was sitting next to her, leaning over her.
“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”
“No.” Talking suddenly felt like a tremendous burden, so she didn’t expound. Simon was quiet for a moment. She could almost hear his thoughts of how to escape, what to do, how to act. She had thought them many times herself.
“Wynter?” he said and then hesitated. “Why do you think we won’t make it out?”
Wynter let the tears slip down her face to puddle on the cave floor. “They don’t know where we are. This strange magic Archard is using—I don’t know how they’ll fight it. And he’s going to . . . I just . . . I don’t think I’m strong enough. I don’t have it in me to fight again . . . I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’re not alone this time. I’ll help you.”
Wynter closed her eyes and fought her self-destructive thoughts. “You are an amazing young man. You remind me so much of Rowan.” She paused to swallow, her throat parched and dry. “I hope you are strong enough for the both of us.”
Simon’s teeth glowed in the dimness, a tiny smile.