Page 2 of Calling Quarters

“Just the basics,” she had argued, practically forcing me away from my schoolwork to practice with her. I spent countless nights copying basic spells into my own leather-bound notebook by hand while cursing her under my breath.

“Keep pouring negative energy into it and you'll get nothing but negative energy back,” she always warned, disappointment lacing her soft tone.

Eventually, I gave in to her and memorized a few of the spells. To this day, it's been a waste of time.

But something was bothering her, and it clearly had to do with the man who just left. I shifted to look over her shoulder at the page she finally landed on. It appeared to be a heavy protection spell. One we'd never used before that required a lot more ingredients than what she kept in the pantry.

“What did that guy say to you?”

She was mumbling something under her breath. Something that clearly wasn't English. “Hm? What guy?”

I reached out to grab her hands in mine, forcing her to look at me. “Aunt Ash, talk to me. What is going on?”

The panicked look that her eyes held when I first came down the stairs still hadn't left. She was keeping something from me, and I had no idea why. We told each other everything. It's always been that way.

I watched the conflict dance in her eyes as she warred with herself over what to say. How much to reveal. Eventually, she gave up. Her shoulders fell as her head hung between them; eyes cast down to the floor.

“I've failed them.”

“Failed who? You're not making any sense.”

“Your parents.” She pulled her hands out of my embrace and turned back to face the pot on the stove, then threw a handful of rosemary in. “It doesn't matter. They were going to come either way. Resistance was futile. I told your father that.”

It was clear she wasn't going to explain any further when she began chopping up sunflower stalks while mumbling in that horrible foreign language again.

This was why I needed to get out of here. My presence was only a burden on Aunt Ash, and it had been for two years now. The day I turned sixteen, we'd gotten into a car crash. Nothing serious, just a few bumps and bruises. But Aunt Ash began acting weird after it happened—more protective of me and our home. Like she thought the crash was intentional.

That was also when she started pushing her practices on me and fighting the idea of college. I'd just figured it was because of the close call. Like, maybe she didn't want to lose the last bit of family she had left. But now, it seems like there was more to it than that.

I left her alone, dragging my feet up the stairs.

Chapter 2

Storie

Present

The two-lane road curved around mountains and in between large, ancient-looking trees. It was terrifying and exhilarating to weave around the natural landscape. Any exhaustion that I'd built up from the previous day of driving was slowly wiped away with each sharp turn.

I felt like I belonged there, in the trees. It was a foreign feeling to me—one I'd never had growing up in the big city with Aunt Ash.

Just as the road narrowed and I was sure it was about to come to an end, dumping me into the woods with no cell phone service or way out, the smooth pavement transitioned into gravel that was only wide enough for one vehicle. I checked my GPS for the thousandth time, hoping it would give me any idea as to where I'd ended up, but it continued circling, attempting to calculate a route and failing miserably.

The sky had darkened overhead, and the trees provided a green canopy that made me feel even more claustrophobic. The only option was to turn back and find a different path around this hauntingly beautiful forest, though turning around was going to be next to impossible. With my mind made up, I slowed to a stop and shifted into reverse.

I hadn't noticed the headlights when they neared me or the flashing red light until it was right beside me. I was halfway through my attempt to turn around when the officer appeared at my window, unbothered by the constant rocking of my car as I tried to shimmy myself in a circle.

He knocked on my window three times, then stepped back and placed his hand on his weapon.

“Ma'am, are you lost?” His low, authoritative voice rumbled once I rolled my window down halfway, still not completely convinced he was real. I hadn't seen a soul around here for hours before he seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Y-yes, actually. I was trying to find my way into Beacon Grove, but I think I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere. This road doesn't lead anywhere, does it?”

That was a dumb question. Clearly, it led to wherever he'd just come from.

His face shifted at the mention of Beacon Grove. Gray eyes narrowed in on me, then bounced around the car in search of something. I took the chance to survey his appearance, sizing him up in case he gave me any issues.

He was tall and lanky, his arms a little too long for his body. His hair was peppered with gray strands that matched his eyes perfectly and only made the onyx color of the rest of his hair pop even more. His name tag read, “Abbot.”

---