Page 90 of Wicching Hour

Frank nodded, his expression serious. Faith looked relieved and glanced at her brother. I’d have to remind Carter to keep an ear open for what people were saying to the two of them.

Jake and Tyler went back out to patrol. I still had a stalker with a gun who was planning to kill me tonight.

When Declan sat back down, I remembered and grabbed his arm, lightheaded at the thought. “Tell me you didn’t still have the maps on you when you dove in the ocean.”

He shook his head, gesturing to Bracken. “Your great-uncle is holding them for us.”

I blew out a breath. “Thank the Goddess. Bracken, can you show everyone?”

He took his leather journal from the inside pocket of his tweed sports coat. Opening it, he pulled out all three maps, placing them side by side. “This one is a very old hand-drawn map I found decades ago tucked into a book I discovered at an estate sale. The subject matter was the history of this region. As you can see, this one appears to be drawn by someone with a limited understanding of the shape of the bay.

“It’s hard to read,” he continued, “but the wordshadesis written right here. There’s no legend. It could mean anything?—”

“Isn’tshadessometimes used as a euphemism for Hell?” Frank asked. “Or for the souls of the damned in Hell?”

Bracken nodded approvingly, as at a favorite student. “Very good. That’s exactly right. We know we’ve had local sorcerers in our family. We know they need privacy to do what they do. Neighbors would call the police if they consistently heard chanting coming from a suburban home. Not to mention the stench of sulfur.”

Bracken shook his head. “No. They need a secret place and once established, it again stands to reason that it would be passed down, like the grimoire itself.”

“Could it be in another city?” Faith asked, moving her plate out of the way. “No one has seen Cal in a while. How do we know she’s still here?”

Bracken held up a finger, in full professorial mode. “Good question and one we have considered. Calliope has been doing sorcery for years. She was living with her parents while she was practicing her demonic magic. Her workshop can’t have been too far because when one of her parents called, looking for her, she was able to make an excuse and return quickly.”

He looked at me and I took over, standing up to collect dirty dishes. Declan rose with me and helped. “I checked with Uncle John. I asked him, on average, how long would it take Cal to show up when he called. He told me it sometimes took an hour, but she always had reasonable excuses. For the most part, though, she returned from her errands or the library or visiting a friend—even though she’d never seemed to have friends—within about twenty to thirty minutes.

“I also had a vision of the house. I know it’s on the ocean’s edge. I saw what looked to be a large home with empty rooms above ground. When I’ve seen her building spells, working with the grimoire, it looks like she’s in a torch-lit basement. I once saw her open a glass patio door, though. Waves hit the rocks and sprayed up just beyond where she stood.”

Elizabeth tried to stand to help, but I patted her shoulder. “We’re good and you’re our guests,” I told her. “As Bracken said, the map is far too inaccurate for us to find her, but it did give us a general area. We’ve driven the 17-Mile Drive multiple times, but neither Bracken nor I felt anything off. So, we asked two other people to help us search for spots along the water’s edge that feel dark.”

“And that’s where it gets interesting,” Bracken said, pointing at the two other maps. “Arwyn knows a woman who is an owl shifter.”

Frank and Faith shared a look, surprised and delighted.

“We asked if she could scout the shoreline for anything that made her feel wrong or uncomfortable. Orla found seven places. Some could be black magic practitioner or other forms of supernaturals.”

Declan and I were back in our seats, the dishes piled in the sink for now.

“These two spots”—he pointed at Orla’s map—“she couldn’t see, but that was true of these other four. When she tried to fly over these two, though, she felt a push to go away. Both locations made her feel sick. We think they’ve been spelled so they’re not only invisible but repel people.”

“That certainly sounds like a sorcerer’s lair,” Robert said, staring at the maps. “You said two spots. Are there two sorcerers?”

“We hope not,” I said. “Just because it’s been warded to keep people away doesn’t mean it’s a sorcerer. It could be a mild-mannered supernatural who used a black wicche to create his wards because he doesn’t want visitors, which is fair.”

“And what about this map?” Robert asked.

Bracken looked at me.

“Okay, you all know my father is water fae, right?”

Frank and Faith nodded. Elizabeth and Robert shared a look. “We didn’tknow,” my aunt said. “I guessed, given your enhanced magic, your affinity for water, the way your hair changes color in it, and…” She glanced down at my leg, where the ribbon of scales was, but didn’t say it.

“Okay, hmm, well, in the spirit of no secrets,” I said, “I’ll give you the condensed version. When Mom was young, the Goddess sent her a prophetic dream. In it, she gave birth to a Cassandra wicche, but her daughter was sad and sickly, terrorized by the visions she saw, ultimately walking into the ocean as a child to end the pain.”

Elizabeth gasped at the thought. “She never said.”

“Mom spoke with Great-Gran, who told her it was a blessing and that she had to find a man powerful enough to father a Cassandra who could survive.”

Elizabeth’s hand covered her mouth. “I’ve never heard any of this,” she whispered. “Poor Sybil.”

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