The old-fashioned copper handle is warm against my palm despite the cool November air. It turns easier than I expect and then the heavy door groans open.
Inside, the air is cool, still, and heavy. The sconces along the stone walls flicker to life and glow with weak, golden light. My mind jumps to magic doing that but then realize it might be as simple as motion detection.
That’s far less interesting.
The vaulted ceiling arches high above, its carvings and artistry lost in the shadows of darkness.
In the center of the space, a wide, smooth marble altar table sits. I know that in the olden days, people laid out the casket of their loved ones on these altars so friends and family could come mourn. I wonder if my mom’s casket sat here.
And if so, who came to mourn her?
I move to the carved stone crypt lying beneath a large stained-glass window. The dimming light of the sinking sun doesn’t do the window justice.
It depicts a beautifulraven in flight, surrounded by swirling mist. In full sun, it must be breathtaking.Magical.
My fingers trace over the inscription on the bronze plaque.
Zoe Hallowind-Forrester
Loving mother. Devoted wife.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Hey, Mom.”
Stillness presses in, and my fingers curl into my sleeves as words escape me. “So, I met Sebastian, and he brought me here to Emberwood. He says he was a colleague of yours and that you were helping him with a dangerous problem. He said that’s how you and Dad were killed.”
I drag my finger through the dust on the stone of her crypt, tracing patterns. “There’s too much I don’t know, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll find out what happened and what the coven did to me, Violet, and Lily.”
I feel the gaping hole of my knowledge to the marrow of my bones and won’t rest until I figure things out and fill in the blanks. Even if I wanted to move on—which Idon’t—I couldn’t. There’s a huge part of me I can’t access, and it’s eating me up from the inside.
Movement outside catches at the edge of my vision. At first, I think it’s Asher, but I can see him plainly through the stained-glass window. He’s reading the family nameplates on the other Emberwood Elite mausoleums.
But beyond him, I swear I can make out a shape hovering in the shadows by a covered arch. The figure looks translucent and seems to shimmer, its form shifting as if caught between existing and fading away.
My breath catches, and I blink a few times. Is that real? Is this happening? Can all witches see ghosts, or is this my affinity taking hold? Sebastian said with the first block of my powers removed, my magic would start to surface.
I give my head a shake and blink, but the ghostly form remains. It tilts its head as if sensing my attention. Then, suddenly, it stiffens and streaks off.
It doesn’t walk or drift or even fade into the shadows. It streaks into the trees, disappearing beyond my sight.
I turn away from the window, my mind awhirl. Given the choice, I would rather be a plant witch or maybe command the weather. Seeing ghosts seems kind of dark and eerie.
But I love sharing an affinity with my mother. It makes me feel closer to her somehow.
I scan the darkness again, focusing on the energy of the cemetery. My head is buzzing, and my skin feels like a million ants are scurrying around under my flesh.
Is that normal?
“I just saw a ghost—is any of this normal?”
“Normal is a construct of the weak-minded.” A male voice within the crypt says. It sounds bored and yet condescending at the same time. “Dare to be more than the timid and tame.”
I whirl around, searching for the source, but there’s no one there. My pulse thunders, rushing hot through my veins.
“As my designated witch, I will hold you to a higher standard.” A translucent blue cat leaps effortlessly onto the marble altar table in the center of the space and sits, staring. “Go ahead. Dazzle me.”
What the hell?
It’s a Siamese cat. Well, at least the ghost of a cat. Are ghost cats a thing? Either way, despite not being corporeal, he is still decidedly a cat.
