My mother took a breath. She nodded and another moment passed. Then she said, “You know how your father and I used to live in that apartment. The one downtown.”

  “When I was a baby,” I said, to be sure that was still true.

  My mother just barely hesitated. “Yes, when you were a baby. My job was more or less the same, even back then. I worked in a women’s shelter. We took in women living on the streets and those who’d been abused. Others dealing with mental health issues. Whoever we could help with what we had. We didn’t have much funding. That part hasn’t changed, that’s for sure.”

  The faraway look left my mother's eyes as she thought about the budgeting concerns that had plagued her throughout her career. Her pet peeve, a lament I’d heard so many times.

  I wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Even then, huh, Mom?”

  “Even then, sweetie. Which meant that there was only so much we could do to help those girls. And some nights there were so many of them, especially in the winter when they needed a warm place to go. Some nights we could feed them, but on others it was all we could do to give them a place to sleep. That's what it was like on the night”—she hesitated, searching my eyes again—”when your mother came in.”

  I’d tried to prepare myself, part of me knowing I’d hear these words. Still, there’d really been no way to prepare. Despite my visions, my near certainty at their meaning, a sense of shock rippled through me.

  “My mother,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

  Mom held my hand even tighter. “She looked just like you. The same blonde hair. Those pale blue eyes. She was probably about the same age as you are now.”

  I tried not to succumb to the numbness washing over me. “What happened, Mom?”

  My mother managed a sip of her tea this time. “Well, the thing is she lived upstairs, in our apartment building. With her boyfriend. We barely knew them. We’d just see them coming and going. That sort of thing. At one point she got pregnant, then she had her baby. You, I mean. She had you. After a while, her boyfriend moved out. We knew that too.”

  I stared at her, stunned. “Did you know her name?”

  Mom kept her voice soft as she wiped another tear away. “Yes, Hannah. Her name was Hannah. And, like I said, one night she came into where I worked. Completely out of the blue. She had you with her, wrapped in a blanket. She tried to act calm, but I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. I could see it in her eyes. She looked frightened. Desperate. She asked if I’d look after you. She said she wouldn’t be long and that she had no one else. I told her I couldn’t, that it was against all policies. I tried talking to her, but she shoved you into my arms. Then she ran. She literally ran from the room.”

  All of it was so strange, so disorienting. I felt like I was dreaming, part of me trying to convince myself that this was yet one more thing that couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? How could it be true?

  “I stayed there all night,” my mother said. “Even though I knew better. At first, I guess I convinced myself that she’d come back. That she’d have to come back. But she didn’t, of course. You know that.”

  Yes, I did know that now. Of course I did. But how had I never seen that vision before now? Why was it that all of this had just risen to the surface, somehow plucked out of me by Blair? Then again, why had my supposed witch powers just started to manifest outwardly? The back of my neck tingled, a psychic ping telling me that I already knew the answer. That, in fact, it had been shown to me. In my mind’s eye, I saw the moment when my birth mother had whispered that incantation, as well as the flash of bright light that followed. At first, I may have not known what it meant, but now I felt sure that I did. She’d cast a spell to bind my powers. How, I wasn't sure, since normally it took a group of witches to perform a binding. Still, somehow she'd done it. And, for some reason, that spell had lasted a very long time. But why had it finally been broken?

  I forced myself to focus on my mother again. My real mother, the woman who’d raised me. This was the time for her to tell her story. The rest I’d just have to figure out later. “What did you do? What happened?”

  She took another sip of her tea, her hand trembling as she held the mug. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. Thankfully, we had formula at the shelter, so I was able to feed you. Well, I tried, anyway. You really didn’t drink much of it. You were hot too, and I wondered if you might have a fever. I wasn’t sure if I should, but I gave you Tylenol. Finally, you went to sleep. I stayed with you all night, and then into the morning. When I went home, I checked with the building manager, but he didn’t know anything. Where Hannah might have gone. How to reach her boyfriend. Marcus. His name was Marcus. He didn’t really know that much about them. Next to nothing, really. So, finally, I had no choice but to call Protective Services.”

  I felt numb. Marcus. My father was some guy named Marcus.

  I heard myself say, “Protective Services,” echoing my mother’s words as I tried to process things.

  My mother nodded, her eyes pained. “I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t keep you. It was against the law, for one thing. I was also confused—terribly confused—and upset, and worried and frightened.”

  A sudden chill rippled through me. “What were you afraid of?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure. I’m still not sure. But I felt it somehow. Something was wrong. Hannah knew she wasn’t coming back. Of course she knew. That was why she came to me. She knew she could trust me.”

  I took another sip of my tea, not saying anything. I waited for my mother to tell me more.

  After a few moments, she continued. “I didn’t forget you, of course. Part of me kept thinking, hoping anyway, that I was wrong and that they’d find Hannah. That she’d claim you again. But that’s not what happened.”

  I braced myself, expecting to hear that they’d found her murdered, her blood boiled, her body impaled to a wall. Finally, I managed to say, “Did they ever find her?”

  My mother shook her head. “No, sweetie, they never did. They said she must have abandoned you. I don’t know. Maybe she did.”

  I could tell she didn’t believe that. I saw it in her eyes. I didn’t believe it either. I’d seen firsthand how much Hannah had cared for her baby. No, I thought with a sense of disbelief, how much she’d cared for me.

  From what felt like a million miles away, I heard my mother’s voice again. “You were placed in a foster home, and I used to go there to check up on you. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why. I guess because Hannah placed her trust in me. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed right that we should adopt you. I spoke to your father, and he agreed. So we did. And we promised that someday we’d tell you. We wanted to tell you, but there was always that darkness overshadowing how you came to us. The sadness and fear. We just couldn't bring ourselves to do that to you. So, the years passed. We just… I’m sorry, honey, but we just didn’t know how. We never found the right time.”

  I grabbed a napkin and used it to mop tears from my cheeks. I spoke softly. “It’s okay, Mom. I understand. You did the right thing.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks too, a long hidden wellspring of pain finally bursting to the surface. “I’m so sorry, honey. I swear, all those years we kept trying to find a way to tell you.”

  I forced myself to accept that what my mother was telling me was true. Not some sort of delusion. Not some weird dream. This was real. This was part of me. Long ago, a young woman named Hannah had trusted my mother to keep me safe when she was in danger. She’d never been seen again and my real father had already been out of the picture. No one knew what had happened to him. This was the truth and now it was out. What I’d do with all of this in the long run, I just wasn’t sure. Obviously, my life would never be the same. On some level, I already knew that. But right now, I realized, there was something I had to do. What I should have done in the first place. I’d run too, but for all the wrong reasons. Now, I had to face what had happened to Phoenix because of me.

  I let go of my mother’s hand and pushed back from the table. “Mom, I need to go.”

  Her eyes widened. “Where, sweetie? Where are you going?”

  “It’s just something I need to do,” I said, snatching my keys from the table. I brought my eyes to my mother’s again. “Mom, I love you. I’ll call you soon, I promise. But right now I just need to go.”

  Chapter 16 - Julia

  I took to the highway again, this time riding west. Soon, I’d let Cassie know that I was okay. She’d been texting and calling for days. Hiding this way had been a selfish thing to do. It hadn’t been fair. I’d also go back to the Shadow Order and explain things as best I could. But right now I needed to go see Phoenix’s mother. Calling her just wouldn’t be right. I needed to go there.

  As I continued to ride, I kept wondering if Isabel knew yet. Surely by now the victims’ families had all been notified. But what if, for some reason, they hadn't been? Or what if Phoenix hadn't been identified? What if he'd left his ID at home, or his wallet on the table when we’d tried to escape? There was just no way to know. But if it had to be me who broke the news, then so be it. Better it came from me than from some stranger in a uniform. And at least I’d been there. I could provide answers to some of the questions. Not all of them, by any stretch, but at least some.

  As the miles passed, my mind reeled with questions of my own. Who had my biological mother been? Not just her name, who had she really been? What had happened to her? Was she a witch? She must have been. What other explanation was there? Was she still alive? What about my biological father? Was he a witch too? Why did he leave my mother and where had he gone?

  Maybe it was because I remained lost in thought, but it didn't feel long before I found myself riding along country roads, past fields and farmland. Not long enough, really. I didn't feel prepared, but how could I be for something like this?

  I turned off the main road and soon spotted Isabel’s farm in the distance. As I drew closer, I saw that the street was lined with cars. As was the driveway. My pulse escalated. Had I possibly arrived in the middle of Phoenix's funeral? No, that just wasn’t possible. It had only been two days. Still, I briefly considered riding past and coming back later. I didn’t think I could face something like that right now. I didn’t know how I possibly could.

  Still, at the last moment I turned into the driveway. I made myself keep going until I reached the house. I killed the engine and got off my bike. I walked to the front door, my heart beating loud in my ears. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and then rang the doorbell. I listened as footsteps approached inside. Then I screamed when Phoenix answered the door.

  Chapter 17 - Cassie

  Cassie sat across from Julia at the kitchen table, waiting for her to overcome her shock. She watched as Julia drained the last of her wine. When she set her glass down, Cassie filled it again.

  “Better?”

  Julia nodded twice slowly.

  “At least, you’re starting to get some color back.”

  Julia hadn’t said anything since letting out that bloodcurdling scream. After that, Isabel had ended her coven meeting. Well, it had been almost over to begin with, but Julia’s sudden outburst had definitely sealed the deal.

  Cassie took a sip of her own wine. She gestured at the bottle’s label. “Did you notice?”

  Julia stared at her mutely.

  “Shiraz,” Cassie said. “How’s that for a coincidence? Who knew Isabel was a Shiraz drinker?”

  Julia continued to stare at her.

  Cassie shrugged. “I just thought you’d find it interesting. How about something to eat? Isabel put out some brie and fruit. And I think there might still be some of that artichoke dip. That stuff is pretty amaz—”

  “How?” Julia said.

  “I think it’s mostly cream cheese. And artichoke, of course. I think it might have a little—”

  “How the hell is he still alive?”

  “Oh good, you’re coming around,” Cassie said. “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t still hysterical. So, yeah, Phoenix. That was a close one.”

  Julia’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Close one? He was fucking run through with a spear!”

  “Shh. Try to keep your voice down. I know you’re upset.”

  Julia’s eyes narrowed to slits, but at least she lowered her voice. “Upset? You want to talk about upset? I fucking watched him die.”

  “Which we only know because Phoenix told us. You were totally off the grid somewhere. Did you maybe notice that I called and texted like four thousand times?”

  Julia let out a breath, then drank more of her wine. “Yes, I noticed. I’m sorry.” She gestured toward the front hall. “But… But Phoenix is alive. How is that possible? He also looked at me like he’d never seen me before. Is that some sort of doppelganger?”

  “Nope. Definitely not a doppelganger. That’s Phoenix.”

  “But he didn’t know me.”

  Cassie sipped her wine and nodded. “Right, we’ll get to that. But let’s circle back to the how part. That was because of that text he sent. Good thing too. Basically it saved his life.”

  Julia frowned. “What text?”

  “The one he sent the other night when you guys were out.” Seeing Julia’s confusion, she added. “Maybe you were in the bathroom or something, but he sent a text saying that you guys were in Shockoe and that you just saw Sarah Wellingsford. Not that he remembers it now. He doesn't remember anything. I tried asking him.”

  Julia held up her hand to stop me. “Hang on. He doesn't remember anything?”

  Cassie looked at the hallway again. It looked clear, except for Isabel and a few others still chatting by the front door. No sign of Phoenix. “Well, he remembers some things. Just not what happened. Well, and some other stuff too. But, like you said, let’s keep things on track. Phoenix figured I’d want to know about you guys spotting Sarah Wellingsford. Which was true. That bitch is trouble, but we just figured she was out of the picture. She’s not, obviously. But, anyway, the whole thing just gave me a bad feeling. So, I called Beatrice. Thank God, because she and Zachary decided to go check things out. She just figured it was too much of a coincidence. She was right, obviously, because she got there just in time.”

  Julia perched forward. “What do you mean, just in time? Phoenix was fucking dead!”

  Cassie winced and glanced at the hallway. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s true, he was. But they grabbed him and took him through a portal back to headquarters. Zachary used his neuromancy to keep him alive while Beatrice got hold of Autumn. That’s when Autumn did her thing.”

  This time, Julia didn’t wait for Cassie to fill her glass. She took care of that herself, filling it to the brim. “Her thing.”

  “Right, I just found out about that myself. Did you know that Autumn can bring dead things back to life?”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “What you guys talked about at magic practice.”

  “Exactly,” Cassie said. “Fucking unbelievable. I can’t believe she never told me before. Anyway, apparently it only works if the dead thing—or person, sorry—hasn’t been dead all that long. Which, thankfully, was the case with Phoenix. So, he’s alive again. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s great,” Julia said, her voice flat. “Your sister can raise the dead. Why don’t I find that comforting?”

  Cassie shook her head. “Not raise the dead. Just restore life. It’s not like she’s a necromancer.”

  “Wait,” Julia said. “Phoenix told me that’s not what necromancers do.”

  Cassie nodded. “True. They don’t. Funny how long it takes to get past old misconceptions. Know what I mean? Anyway, once Phoenix was kicking again, Beatrice brought Zachary back in to work on him some more. I guess he kept at it for the next eight hours, along with some other healers. Together, they managed to patch Phoenix up pretty good.”

  The front door closed and footsteps headed their way. They both looked up as Isabel, Beatrice and Autumn came into the kitchen. Isabel set out more glasses and another bottle of wine, then those three pulled up seats at the old farmhouse table.

  “How are we doing in here?” Isabel glanced at Cassie, but her gaze lingered on Julia.

  Her usually pale face was already a little flushed from the wine, but Julia reddened even more. She spoke softly. “I'm so sorry.”

  Isabel shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “But I ran,” Julia said. “I left him.”

  “Was that before or after someone killed him?”

  Cassie noticed that Isabel didn't say “almost killed,” and she wouldn't have expected anything else. Isabel was never one to hide from the truth.

  Julia hesitated, nervously fidgeting with her necklace. “After, but I didn’t—”

  “No,” Isabel said. “Please don't do that to yourself. If you'd stayed, you might be dead right now.” She gestured toward Autumn. “As far as I'm concerned, it's a miracle that Autumn managed to save Phoenix. Autumn, have you ever brought two people back?”

  Autumn shook her head. “No. I don't even know if I could.”

  Isabel turned her attention back to Julia. “See? If you'd stayed, you would have put Autumn in a very bad position. You did the right thing. The only thing you could do under the circumstances. Now, let's put this to bed. Okay?”

  Julia met Isabel's eye and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now how about you tell us what happened? All we've been able to do is try piecing things together. It would be good to hear it from you.”

  Julia finally stopped plucking at her necklace. “Phoenix really doesn’t remember?”

  Isabel shook her head. “None of it. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything that’s happened in the last few months.”

 

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