2
“Arift?” I echo. I should be alarmed, based on Thomas’s wide eyes and Jacques’s reaction, but I can’t think about anything other than my mother.
“Are you sure?” Jacques echoes, standing. His fists are clenched and his shoulders tense.
“Yes. Gil is watching it now. It’s small and fading fast, but who knows how long it’s been there.”
“Where is it?” Jacques strides forward.
“In the back, behind the barn. We saw something flash and went to investigate.”
Jacques turns to me. “Get the salt and white candles.”
Blinking, I look from Jac to Thomas. “Sure, but why? What’s a rift?”
Pursing his lips and not trying to hide his annoyance, Jacques motions for me to follow him into the kitchen. His no-nonsense attitude used to piss me off, but now it’s one of the things I love about him. He’s direct and to the point, which is something I relate to myself.
“It’s an opening between worlds, but not one neatly done.”
“You can neatly open worlds?” Feeling like I’ve been thrust into a science fiction novel, I go to the pantry and grab two canisters of salt.
“Yes, if you know how to properly cast a circle and open a portal. A rift can happen for various reasons and most aren’t good.”
“Did anything get out?” Hasan asks, setting down the sandwich he was making for me.
“We didn’t see anything,” Thomas replies. “But that doesn’t mean much.”
The smell of lavender is gone and the feeling of my mother’s cold arms around me is replaced by Jacques’s warm hand landing on my shoulder.
Did anything get out?
Shit. A rift is open between two worlds…and I just saw my dead mother.
“How do I close it?” I ask, forcing myself into action.
“You can’t. Closing a rift requires advanced magic,” Jacques says with total honesty. “But we can put a barrier around it and keep anything else from coming out. If it’s small, it’ll heal on its own in time.”
“Take me to it,” I say, tucking one of the salt canisters under my arm. I open a drawer and sift through the junk I’ve accumulated in a short time until I find the lighter.
“You still need that, Hot Hands?” Thomas asks, a cocky grin on his face.
“Hot Hands, really?” I deadpan, raising an eyebrow.
Thomas wiggles his eyebrows and Jacques scowls, crossing the room to get the candles…which aren’t in the cabinet because I took them upstairs when I tried that stupid—oh shit. No, it’s not possible. Jacques just said it takes advanced magic to close a rift. I’d assume it’d take even more advanced magic to open one in the first place.
I’m a novice and tried a fake spell from a bullshit book. There’s no way I opened the rift. Is there?
“Where are the candles?” Jac asks.
“Upstairs. I’ll get them.” I set the salt down and hurry up the back stairwell, wincing as I move. I forgot how sore I was. I throw on a jacket and grab the candles, sticking them in my pockets. I grab shoes, not bothering with socks, and go as fast as I can down the stairs, ignoring the pain that’s shooting across my ribcage.
The four of us leave the house through the back, stepping out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. There are several outbuildings behind the house, and all are in equally bad shape. The house was taken care of well enough over the years, housing renters while Aunt Mary was in the nursing home, but no one had any use for the barn or the chicken coop. Eventually, I’ll have them all torn down before they fall over during a storm.
“Holy shit,” I mumble, holding out my hand.
“What is it?” Hasan asks.
“The air…it feels…static.”
