She couldn’t meet his gaze. If she did, she might not go through with what she had to do next.
“I… I think you should go back to Boston.” Calli managed to hold herself together, but barely. “Your father needs you.”
The words I don’t want you here went unspoken, but the flash of pain in his eyes told her that he had sensed it.
Malcolm searched her face for some sign of hope. “I’ll go, but when he’s better, I’m coming back. We have to talk.”
She shook her head. “No… you won’t.” The words cut as she spoke them. “I want you to go.”
“But we?—”
“I said GO!” Calli shouted.
The large picture window behind her exploded in a burst of glass, wind rushing through the room. Malcolm flew back, slamming into the wall opposite her. He winced, touching the back of his head, and got to his feet. He took a limping step toward her.
Part of her wanted to run to him, heal him, seek comfort in his arms. She almost succumbed to the urge before the very real, very present anger at what he’d done crackled through her like a bolt of lightning. The vines began to slither out of the tattoos upon her arm.
“Don’t move, Malcolm!” Lady Batsford snapped. “She’s not in control of herself right now.”
The vines began to twin around Calli’s wrists, as if preparing to lunge to prove the Council woman right.
Lady Batsford turned to Sarah. “Find the other traveling totem. We must return to Boston immediately.”
“It’s a baseball…” Reginald said. “That one…” He pointed to a baseball which had rolled out from underneath the couch during the commotion.
Lady Batsford reached out to Malcolm. “Quickly, take my hand!”
Malcolm stared at Calli across the chasm between them. It was only a dozen or so feet, but they might as well have an ocean apart. He placed his hand in Lady Batsford’s. Sarah took the baseball and held onto Reginald, who held Lady Batsford’s other hand.
“Calli…” he said, the name a plea for understanding. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She felt only rage.
“Take us home!” Reginald rasped.
A second later, he and the others vanished, the baseball dropping onto the floor, waiting to be used once again. Hades, too, disappeared in the same instant. The kitten in Calli’s arms suddenly screamed, raking Calli’s arms with her claws. The kitten leapt to the ground, running to the spot where the giant schnauzer had once been.
The rage faded.
“They’re gone, Sephie…” Calli swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Everyone’s gone.”
She couldn’t breathe. It was as though she were dying, and she could feel every second of it with stark clarity.
Prophecies. No wonder her grandmother hated them. Malcolm had caused the death of her parents, and that had caused him to lose his connection with magic. That eventually had brought him to her.
Was this the universe’s idea of a joke? Was it supposed to be some kind of cosmic balance? Malcolm had killed her parents. It was so much worse than losing them. He had directly caused their deaths. That was the worst thing she could ever imagine. It was unforgivable. Even though he’d only been a boy, he’d still taken a life… two lives. And in a way three because she’d never recovered from losing her parents.
Calli sank to her knees, her body numb. The fire in the hearth died out, and the house, with only the sound of the wind whistling through the shattered window, had become a cold tomb.
Without any magical fanfare, Malcolm and the others arrived in the front hallway of his parents’ home in Boston. Lady Batsford picked up a small silver mirror off the nearby end table, and they were transported to the Salem Witch Council Chambers.
Twelve witches were waiting in the room when they materialized. Dozens of candles had been lit, and a spell circle was painted on the floor of the chamber to enhance the power of their unified spellcasting.
Malcolm was barely aware of any of this. All he could think about was the look on Calli’s face before she vanished, the vines on her arms ready to attack. Just like that, the life he’d wanted had vanished. Now he was here, to become part of a life he had no desire to be a part of.
Because of a damn prophecy.
His mother guided his father into a chair out of the way of the spell weaving circle. Hades sat down by his father’s side and his father’s familiar, Onyx, curled up against Reginald’s feet. Hades looked intense as he watched Malcolm from across the room. Serafina brought out a cloak of midnight blue velvet and draped it around Malcolm’s shoulders as another older warlock stepped forward. The silver-haired warlock had warm brown eyes and had to be in his late seventies, but offered Malcolm a gentle smile.
“Malcolm, this is Lord Bromley. He is to retire, and you will take his place.”
