Mom turned the knob and pushed the door open. Death magic rolled over my shoulders, cold and clammy, fingers of mist touching my neck and hair. I shivered and paused at the threshold.
“This is your heritage too, Evie,” Mom said quietly. “Enter and do not be afraid. The dead cannot harm the living.” A faint smile. “Usually.”
“Gee, Mom. That last qualifier makes me feel so much better.”
To my surprise, Mom laughed. “You are safe with me,” she clarified.
I stepped into the room. Even though Mom hadn’t touched the door, it slammed behind her, the boom of sound making me jerk in fear.
I looked around the room with wonder. The wood was dark and shiny, a deep blue woven rug taking up a large expanse. Two burgundy chairs sat on either side of a bookshelf stuffed to the brim. Tomes and journals filled with random scraps of paper lay scattered in random order on every shelf. In the middle of the room sat a round table with a leather-bound book atop the surface. Two fat, squat candles sat on either side. On the right sat a small silver bowl holding a charcoal brick and the remnants of something burned, incense if I had to guess. There was a small bowl of soil toward the top, a feather to its left, another charcoalbrick filled with a fragrant powder below it, and another silver bowl filled with water above that.
An altar.
Mom tied her hair back and picked up a bundle of sage, lighting it with nothing more than a thought. When the sage caught fire and the flame went out, releasing a pungent but pleasant scent with its smoke, she motioned me over and used a large feather to flick smoke over my hair, face, and body, doing the same for herself when she finished.
I watched as Mom took the formal steps of ritual before she returned to the place at the table. She pulled up a chair and sat down.
“It will take a few minutes,” she said.
“Try to be as quiet and still as possible, and do not disrupt the energy, no matter what you might see or hear.”
I nodded, more curious than anything. Mom had always kept her rituals private from me. I’d never seen her use this side of her power for anything other than control. I’d received gifts from both my parents, but I’d never held any dominion over the dead or my mother’s banshees.
Tess had once told me she liked my energy. Maybe some of my mother’s power clung to me, but it wasn’t enough to hold any power over the afterlife. I was glad of it. The powers I had were enough to deal with, and I’d barely touched the surface of any of them.
When I thought about that, I felt overwhelmed. How was it that I could have the ability to shift into anything I desired and not be using those powers every single day of my life? I’d embraced myself and my gifts, but sitting here now, watching my ageless mother commune with death, I wondered if I truly had.
My Floromancy felt like an extension of one of my limbs. My Chimera powers felt like an afterthought sometimes. I spentfar too long being afraid of them than using the magic to my advantage.
I itched to fidget as I thought about it, uncomfortable in the assessment of myself. Maybe I should call Barrett back and ask him to come over. He’d offered, but the swans had thrown a wrench into everything.
Mom’s eyes widened, a silver film covering her irises. I sucked in a breath and froze, wondering if I should intervene, until her words came back to me.
No matter what I saw, do not interrupt.
But it was hard. Mom went still as stone, her eyes clouded with the film of death.
The room had fallen silent except for the crackling noise of the burning incense. Fragrant smoke filled the area, the scent at odds with the scene before me.
Death was not a power I coveted. I preferred the warmth and fiery power of life. Death was a release. Life was holding on to everything for as long as you could and fighting like hell to stay on the ride no matter how hard things got.
Death was letting go, and let’s face it, I’d never been good at that.
Mom sucked in a ragged breath and opened her mouth, a wail tearing from her throat. It wasn’t quite the same as a banshee wail, but it was similar enough to make my eyes water and my teeth grit.
A second later, the room fell into silence once more.
Mom gasped and opened her eyes, the film clearing away like it had never existed.
“I know where she is,” she croaked.
Chapter
Sixteen
Mom wasn’t sure if Lugh had taken Tess or not. She said there was no way to tell, but what she did know was that Tess was no longer on Earth. She’d gone to the fae realms, and she was alive.
That’s all Mom could tell, but it was enough. Relief filled me, and I sank against the chair.
