Page 44 of The Beginning
I had that sleaze-ball, Silas.
I fought with my non-existent healing magic for a few minutes before giving up and moving to the counter and the prescriptions that the doctor had given to me.I popped two pills, one for the pain and one for infection.I lay down on the couch, my skin still warm from the shower, and stared out at the treetops while I contemplated my next move.
Aunt Beatrice had said that the power of the Vessel Witch traveled down through the women.That meant one day, one of mine or Calyx's children would become the Vessel Witch for the family.What would happen if I decided not to have children?We had no younger female witches in the line, yet.The Blaine family wasn't large.
Would the power die off if the Vessel had no children?Would it just jump to another person in the family tree the way it jumped from Aunt Beatrice to me?Was that something I was willing to risk?
I had some research to do.I wouldn't wish this kind of lonely life on anyone, especially a daughter or a niece.Oh, my God.What if they intended to kill me and then Silas and Calyx had a child?
Where did one do research, discreetly?I’d have to inquire within the magical community.With any luck, maybe they didn’t like my mother, and I could find information without her learning about it.
I shook off a shiver, feeling cold now that the warmth from the shower had dissipated.I eased myself off the couch, every muscle screaming in protest as I made my way back to the bedroom and slipped into my pajamas.
I brewed some tea, brought the mug with me to my bed, and curled up into the sheets.Closing my eyes, I leaned back on the pillow, questioning myself and the events of the day.How did I let myself get caught up in that vision?There were ways to prevent such a thing.Who had sent that priest to me?He wasn't working alone.That much I was sure of.
Whomever I was dealing with, they were much more powerful, or at least much more skilled than I was.I had to get to the bottom of this.That also included learning more about my family, about the Vessel Witch, and the Original Vessel.Why hadn't my mother told us about this?
That one I thought I could answer.
She wanted power for herself, and to hell with the rest of us.If she couldn't have it, she'd make sure no one could.Whatever it was, whatever her motivation—I was determined to figure it out.
But like, tomorrow.
I could be forgiven if I took it easy tonight.
After all, I'd lost a fucking finger.
A restlessness overtook me as I slept.I fell into a fever, sweating, and fighting against the heat in my hand and the wounds on my shoulder and my belly that throbbed and burned.
I was aware of myself as I fought the fog.Was I asleep?Was I dreaming?Was this another vision being sent to lure me into more danger?I was in a state of semi-wakefulness, aware that I was dreaming, aware that I was fevered, but at the same time unable to snap through it, unable to break the spell.
A noise in my apartment jolted me awake.
I sat up, clutching the comforter to my chest.The room was completely still, the apartment silent.I was unable to grab onto the exact sound that I had heard which had woken me.
I slid out of bed, and walked toward the door to my bedroom, grabbing the baseball bat that I kept propped up against the wall.Magic was all well and good, but nothing sent a warning message like a baseball bat.Or hit quite like a baseball bat.Even magical folks could be hit with a well-swungLouisville Slugger.
Lifting the bat over my shoulder, I choked up as best I could with my swollen hand, ignoring the pain and tightness in my fingers.One of the stitches popped and a trickle of warm blood oozed down my wrist, but I did not let go of the bat.
I moved along the hallway, careful to stay against the wall as I tip-toed into the loft that overlooked the downstairs.
When I turned the corner, I froze.
A man stood with his back to me, looking out the window.He wore a bizarre outfit of weird leather armor and a long cape that draped down his very broad and very nice shoulders to the carpet.Shoulder cape?What the hell?
He didn't seem to have heard me.So I inched across the floor, careful to avoid the coffee table and the ficus tree that swooshed whenever I walked by it.I skirted around the far side, pulling the bat back, ignoring the pain and the blood now dripping down my chest from the wound on my shoulder.
The man turned, slowly, inching around toward me, then a shadow fell across him, obscuring his face in darkness.All but his glowing emerald eyes.It was as though a beam of light had come right across his face at the perfect angle.This was the man whose eyes I'd been seeing in my dreams—even before the visions.This was the man who had been watching me in the church from my vision.
"Don't move," I said."Stay where you are."
As if seeing me for the first time, he blinked, and startled, his eyes going wide.Then he took a step toward me, his arm outstretched, his mouth opened as if to speak, although I didn't hear anything.His hand reached for me.I took a step back, choking up on the bat, hefting it behind me, preparing to strike.
"Stop!I'll swing."
He moved toward me again, oblivious to the danger he was in, his mouth moving silently.
I swung the bat as hard as I could, aiming right for his head.
