Midnight Magic, page 165
Hand shaking, the water splashed over the side of one pot, and she used the edge of her shirt sleeve to wipe it.
At least, nothing else could go wrong, right?
Bad things come in threes.
Her grandmother loved to repeat sayings that mostly seemed to affect celebrity deaths. If one movie star passed away, then watch out for two more. If the last member of the family to die was male, then the next baby to born would be female.
If your nose itched, you either were going to kiss a fool or get into a fight.
Right now, her life possessed two strikes – depending upon how a person looked at it. The most vocal and important perspective in her mind was going to be Rafe’s parents. They both expected them to throw a fuss, but how much of one?
A knock sounded on the library’s door. “Ma’am, you have a visitor.”
She didn’t get many visitors, especially so late at night, past ten-o-clock. She opened the door. Over the years, the family slimmed down the staff, and right now she employed a house manager, Ms. Jardin, who Chey swore possessed a little bit of magic herself, and a cook, Mr. Shanae. They’d been with the family since she was a child, and even though her mother was now gone, the connections with traditions continued.
Ms. Jardin wore her nightshift with a robe tied over it.
“Did they say who they were?” Cheyenne wasn’t in the mood for a visitor, and had no idea who it could be.
“She says she’s your sister, ma’am. A Ms. Juniper.” Ms. Jardin whispered her response, leaning in. “And if you do not mind me saying, aside from her blond hair, she favors you.”
Favors me? She had to interpret the turn of phrase. “Do you mean she looks like me?”
“Yes. Quite.”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to meet her …”
“Does that mean you knew about her?”
Cheyenne gestured toward the laptop, as if Ms. Jardin would know what she was referencing. “I’d only just learned about her.” It was as if that brief knowledge had manifested the woman. She’d decided to put off contacting her, and look what happened: She showed up shortly after.
Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling her it was time.
A soft thud came from another part of the house, followed by not-so-soft footsteps.
“Sorry to intrude,” a woman’s voice called out. “But it’s getting chilly out, and I thought it best to shut the front door.”
Whether she was ready or not, one of the woman she’d matched with was currently in her house. She steeled herself before nodding to Ms. Jardin.
“It’s all right. I can handle it from here.”
CHAPTER 4
The night before, Cheyenne and her newfound sister talked late into the night. Juniper warned that she tended to keep odd hours, and she’d probably not see her until the late afternoon.
All the various parts of her life seemed to be coming together. In her office, Chey worked on organizing bills and made some tentative arrangements for an impromptu get-together the upcoming weekend. If everything went according to plan, her and Rafe may have something to celebrate.
A noise drew her attention, and Chey glanced at the open doorway. A funnel of mist swirled, the thickest vapor that Cheyenne had ever seen. The beach cities often issued a “dense fog” advisory, but even then it happened outside. Never inside a house.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” She stood from the desk, walking toward the anomaly. Her nerves were frayed. Lately, it felt like she was constantly jumping at the slightest noise, as if things had been going too well. She knew something bad had to happen. It was only a matter of time.
The form shifted, taking shape into the rough outline of a human body. The features of the face extended, morphing.
“I should’ve known it was you.” She stepped back, slowly, until she brushed against the wall of books.
The enemy of her family stood between her and the room’s only exit. Trapped. She reached behind her, grasping a hardback tomb.
“Sorry Norton.” She hurled the poetry anthology at the figure, and it busted the diaphanous material, splitting the head and body into two halves. The heavy book clamored to the hardwood floor.
Before Chey fully reacted, the shape knit itself back together, swaying.
“You witch!” the specter of a woman pointed a finger at her, leaving tendrils of cloud-like substance in its movement. “You will pay for that!”
She shut her eyes, holding her palms out at her sides and called upon the power of her element.
Five years ago, after her mom passed away, Cheyenne vowed not to use her abilities. Now, nothing. It’s not like she couldn’t access her powers, it’s like she didn’t have any. At one point, she’d be able to tap into her emotions, anger and fear being the most powerful, and defend herself.
“What’s the matter?” Meredith advanced, stalking her prey. “Lost your fizzle?”
But it was as if disowning her magical upbringing went both ways: In her time of greatest need, her power deserted her.
Cheyenne’s family had battled against Meredith and her Cattivo ancestors for centuries. The Cattivos craved power. By banishing it, Chey had denounced her heritage and potentially her future.
“Did you do something to your hair?” Rafe’s arm hovered in the air. He’d gone to hug her, and all of a sudden his body cringed, making him hesitate.
A warning flared in his sixth sense. What was different about her? She basically looked the same, but her body language threw off a different vibe. She held her body awkwardly, as if not comfortable in her own skin.
“Is that the way to great your intended?” she asked, bridging the gap between them and wrapping her arms awkwardly around him. She went to place her mouth against his, and he turned his head, giving her his cheek.
Her lips smacked loudly, and he slipped out of her embrace. Something felt different. Off.
“Ah, well, you know, you said you wanted to hold off anything further until the timing was better….” The last conversation they had was a bit awkward. He was about to propose, and she requested waiting until getting his parents’ approval. When he’d broached the subject, it didn’t go well. Or with Meredith. He wasn’t sure how to tell Cheyenne.
“I did? Oh, yes. I did.” The light of her eyes shifted, a brief swirling of dark brown cutting through the green, and then she blinked, slowly. When she opened them again, the color had smoothed over.
What the hell?
“Have a seat.” She gestured toward the small red couch. “Have you come today with good news? Did you finally get rid of that evil bitch Meredith?”
“Eh, not exactly.” Even in Cheyenne’s most-stressful moments, she never used language such as “bitch.” She may not like someone, but she went out of her way to be polite and civil. “Are you feeling all right?”
“The questions! Are you always so inquisitive? I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time, right? And you are choosing me over that other woman.” She clutched her neckline, stretching out the delicate material. “I’d hope that you trust me.”
“Well yes, of course.” He had no idea why he felt the way he did. She was the woman he loved, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He fought to ignore his gut reaction. Maybe it was the stress of unresolved issues with Meredith. It was affecting everything else in his life, even the usually good things.
“I don’t mean to push,” he explained. “Maybe I’m just feeling off today.”
“My poor man. Can I do anything to make you feel better.” She uncrossed, and re-crossed her legs, giving him a flash of bright red underwear.
He looked away. Despite whatever she said, and he tried to convince himself, Cheyenne wasn’t acting herself at the moment, and he certainly wasn’t going to take her up on any implied offer.
“Seeing you is more than enough.” He got up, hitting his thigh on the arm of the chair, and it squealed across the wood floor like the scream of a claustrophobic person almost out of air. “Now that you mentioned it, I do have others things I need to take care of.”
“Mentioned what? You just got here. It’s not normal for you to leave so quickly.”
“All too soon, we’ll be together full time,” he stumbled over his words as freely as he stumbled over his feet to get out.
CHAPTER 5
“Please stay.” It was almost impossible to ask for help. It’s like part of her fought with another for control. “My body is kind of miserable right now. I hate it.”
That didn’t sound right. Why was she thinking of herself in third person? Cheyenne slapped her palms against her thighs and resisted the urge to pinch the soft flesh under her arms until it turned red and swollen.
She lost.
“What are doing?” He grabbed hold of her wrists. “Since when do you hurt yourself? I never seen any signs?”
The question stilled her movements. Rafe calling out her actions only highlighted them more, upping the stakes.
Because he potentially saw through her, she wanted to hide even more.
“I don’t know. It felt right in the moment.” Did she look as confused as she sounded? Another voice whispered not to say anything else so only she heard. “I shouldn’t mess with my magic. Once I push it, I kinda lose control of everything else.”
It’s not like she wanted to do it, or even consciously did. It’s like the brief flash of pain helped her get out of whatever fugue state fogged her brain and allowed her to be present, totally present. And not subdued like the feeling of watching her life behind that two-way glass seen in cop shows.
She’d viewed the discussion with Rafe, disconnected, and not able to directly interact.
“I need help.” She placed her hand over his. “I’m not feeling like myself.”
Her throat tightened, like an invisible claw squeezed until she could barely breathe, let alone say what she wanted to say. She tugged at her neck, gasping. Her vision blurred and tears streaked her face.
“Chey. Chey!” Rafe called out to her from a faraway tunnel. His voice echoed as if he called her from a distance.
The lack of oxygen caused her to be lightheaded, and she fell, back-back-back, without ever hitting the ground. His strong arms caught her.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
She wanted to tell him that she loved him, and managed to squeeze his hand before losing all consciousness.
“That’s it my love.” She woke surrounded in white cloud of softness. A warm glow emanated from all corners, and it smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. As she remembered what happened, she sat up, gasping once again, and holding her hand against her throat.
“It’s all right. It’s over.” Rafe stood from a chair beside her bed.
How long had she been out for? What had happened, and what did he know? She tried to talk, and once again all that came out was a hoarse whisper.
“Shhh. Don’t push too hard, or strain yourself.” He placed a finger over her lips. “It seems like your throat may have constricted. Did you eat anything different? Get stung by something? It appeared to be like an anaphylactic shock. I’ve never known you to be allergic to anything …”
The voice within her head was quiet. She felt alone. Not alone like she was on a regular basis without her power, but without the strange internal intruder. Talk about an inner critic. This one hated her with a passion.
“Y-you don’t understand.” She barely made out the words. He had to know what had happened, in case she wasn’t gone. They needed to protect themselves, because if Meredith could take over her body, and basically cause her to stop breathing, who knew what else she was capable of. What if she made her kill someone? What if she wanted Cheyenne to kill Rafe?
“Here, have some water.” He brought a glass with a straw up to her lips. “Drink slowly.”
The ice water stung her sore throat, and yet felt so good. She sucked it greedily. So fast, he pulled the straw away and some sprayed from the top.
“That’s enough. Too much, too quickly and you might get sick.” He placed the glass back on the nightstand.
They were in her room, and she realized it was the first time he’d seen it. She glanced down, taking in the nightgown she was wearing?
“Don’t worry. I didn’t strip you down. Ms. Jardin helped me there.” Ever observant, he addressed her unvoiced concerns. “In fact, I should probably ring her to let her know you’re awake. She fretted over you like a momma bear and her young.”
“Wait,” she croaked out. “We need to talk.”
“That’s the last thing you should be doing.”
She smacked her hand on the bed, gesturing for her phone. Damn him if he or her body wasn’t going to let her talk, she’d have to use another means to communicate.
“Ah, Notes. Good idea,” he said.
Look how quickly he caught on. She held the cell up to her face and swiped up. The little lock on the time failed to open. She tried it again, with the same result. Stupid phone didn’t recognize her face. How bad did she look? Finally, on the third time it let her input her password. She angled the phone so he couldn’t see it. Yes, they were able to merge households, and get married, but he didn’t need to know everything about her.
“I swear, I’m not looking.”
She finished unlocking the phone, and opened Notes. How could she say this without sounding insane? He’d grown up with magic. His mom was a witch. He had latent powers himself. He shouldn’t question what she feared.
I think someone possessed me. Her thumb and middle finger flew over the keyboard.
She angled the phone for him to read it, and his eyes grew wide.
“Now?” he whispered. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. Either whatever other consciousness that had been inside her was dormant, or perhaps it had fled when she’d passed out. Maybe her body had expelled the fucker.
Cheyenne worked on completing the message.
We need to find her, and stop this before anyone else gets hurt. You have to help me.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Rafe didn’t sound as confident as he normally did. “I have to.”
She wasn’t losing it. He had to notice that she wasn’t acting like her true self. Sure, he might able to handle a damsel in distress when she passed out from what he thought was a bad allergic reaction, but could he tackle possession?
“Let me call my mom.”
Great. How well was that going to go over? Cheyenne’s mind raced, imaging, “Hello mom. I’m breaking up with my fiancé, going to marry the woman you always said wasn’t good enough for me, and – oh yeah – she might have had her body taken over by an evil spirit.”
She grabbed his wrist, shaking her head no. Talk about making a bad impression. “Mmmm-mmm.” They didn’t need the added chaos of his Momma getting involved.
“Listen. If Meredith did what you think she did, then she’s broken all sorts of rules of the Witches’ Council. My mom’s a board member. You know that. If anyone has information on how to stop her, it would be her.”
“Stop.”
If they found out how weak she actually was, it really wouldn’t be good. They may suspect she wasn’t using her power, but actual proof of its disuse may be grounds for worse. They may take it away for good. Then, the magic would be deleted from her lineage. She wasn’t ready for that to happen.
“No.” He needed to listen to her.
“Listen Chey, I don’t know what to do. I don’t have the ability to fight her,” his tone grew pained. “If you don’t let me contact them, then you’re going to have to do it.”
CHAPTER 6
People born without powers don’t understand what it’s like. Sure, some cultivate what are considered paranormal skills. They learn magic. Being born with it is altogether different. It’s like sharing your body with another entity, another consciousness.
The power within her lay dormant, pushed down and forced to be quiet for so long. She didn’t like the loss of herself, her main self, when she tapped into the other voice. There was no training to meld the two. It had to be a mutual trust. Rather than give up control, she gave up her power.
As if it was possible. People who lost a limb continued to feel that missing body part. They had phantom itches or pains. Cheyenne often felt that way with her power. She dreamt about using it.
Now, it refused to answer her. She didn’t know if it was dormant or gone. When the mist surrounded her, invading her lungs and her psyche, she’d called to her inner being for help and it remained quiet.
If wasn’t able to tap into that part of herself, then Rafe would be forced to call his mother, and the council.
“I’ll try,” she said.
After all this time together, she had him in her bedroom and what good did it do her? Even if they didn’t have everything else going on, he’d probably be too worried about her health to do anything for fear of hurting her or making it worse.
In a way, she didn’t blame him. She had completely passed out, and somehow he’d carried her upstairs. She wanted the first time to be romantic, like after their wedding and him following the tradition of carrying her over the threshold and to the bedroom.
Embarrassment flared. She didn’t want him to see her like this – weak. She only wanted him to see her at her strongest.
“Hey, what’s going on in that mind of yours?” he asked. “Maybe wrong choice of words. All of a sudden you got kind of red. Are you still feeling all right?”
“Yes. It’s just.” Her throat felt better already, less sore and tight. She smiled. “Water?”
“Oh sure. Here you go.”
This time, she took it more slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe her throat. What she wouldn’t do for some of Ms. Jardin’s special herbal tea about now. Oh, right. She’d stopped him from contacting her – from calling anybody.
Easier to communicate via the Notes, still.
Can you ask Ms. Jardin to mix me up some of her tea with honey?
