T*Witches: Kindred Spirits (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

COMING HOME

Green. Vibrant and clean, wonderfully fresh and alive. Her senses heightened, her heart sang. Here, she’d been born. Here, her family had lived. Here, she belonged. Alex Fielding and Coventry Island: love at first sight. It happened that fast.

Cam’s reaction was lightning quick, too. And opposite.

Foreign. Remote and disconnected, thick with dark, tangled trees, ringed by a rocky beach, deserted but for a few seagulls and shells. Lots of shells. Camryn Barnes set foot on her birthplace feeling as out of place as she’d ever been anywhere.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, she was grateful she
and Alex had been wrenched from here, pulled apart, sent to grow up separately. This place, a haven for witches and warlocks, had not been safe for them back then. It felt the same way now. She wished she were anywhere but here.

Coventry was hard to get to. The island could only be accessed by ferry, but few from the mainland ever made the trip. It was nearly impossible to see beyond the forest or to expect there was anything of interest to see. Just one of dozens of small, heavily wooded islands off the coast of Wisconsin. It seemed uninhabitable.

Which was just the way the people of Coventry wanted it. Better if no one knew a complex, bustling community thrived there. Long-lived, learned, peaceful, and proudly self-sufficient, the island had been settled long before most of today’s mainlanders were even born.

There was only one man, an old-timer named Burton “Bump” Rodgers, who knew how to get there and could be persuaded to ferry people to Coventry’s shore.

“Witch Island?” Bump had laughed at Cam and Alex. “You girls sure that’s where you want to go? No electricity, telephones, TVs. No cars allowed — guess they get around on broomsticks.” His beady eyes narrowed. “It’s told some folks never come back …”

Then he’d smirked at Alex, taking in her obviously
dyed, pink-tipped jet-black spikes and frayed denim jacket. “ ’Course some folks belong there: witches, warlocks, and them. Which witch are you?” His big potbelly shook as he guffawed at his own pathetic joke.

“Careful,” Alex had playfully warned him, narrowing her startling gray eyes at Bump. “We may have to cast a spell on you.”

“We’re just visiting.” Cam elbowed her twin. That was the truth, wasn’t it?

“Don’t worry, Apolla, no one is going to force you to stay.”

The voice calling Cam by her birth name jarred her. It seemed to float from the forest. Familiar but soft, it was completely absent of its normal snappishness.

“Ileana?” Cam called out timidly, “Is that you?”

“Who were you expecting, Glinda? Sabrina? The Wicked Witch of the West?” Again, the intended sarcasm fell flat.

Cam heaved a sigh of relief, hurrying toward the forest now. Ileana, at least, was safe and familiar.

The day of their birth, their father, Aron, had been slain; their grief-stricken mother, Miranda, had vanished. Ileana had been appointed guardian of the newborns though she herself was only a teenager. She’d done her best to keep the twins safe from those who would harm
them, especially the powerful Lord Thantos DuBaer, their uncle who, until recently, was believed to be their father’s killer.

Alex smiled at the sound of Ileana’s voice. But her smile froze the minute she spotted her.

Cam gasped.

Was this a mirage? Were they seeing Ileana through a fun-house mirror? Impossible that this gaunt, disheveled woman was their fiery, haughty, staggeringly beautiful, and vain witch guardian. She, who wore only the up-trendiest designer labels, and jetted around the world on the arm of a famous movie star, was gone. In her place stood a frail replica, her eyes dull, her once lustrous hair brittle, uncared for.

Saddest and most shocking of all was the cloak hanging limply from her shoulders. Midnight-blue silk, it was soiled, stained. With what Alex wasn’t sure, but Cam identified it immediately. Blood.

Ileana had worn it the day Karsh died. Had she not taken it off since?

She seems so … helpless
, Alex telegraphed to Cam.

“Helpless, am I?” Normally, Ileana would have railed at the affront, cast a spell, turned them into some little groveling two-headed creature. Now all she could manage was, “If I’m so helpless, you won’t be needing me. I’ll show you where you’re staying and be on my way.”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean it that way,” Cam apologized.

“Don’t insult me further by lying,” Ileana replied wearily. “Just follow me.” They trailed her into the woods. Alex hoisted a beat-up duffel over her shoulder and easily kept pace with their strangely sluggish guardian. Cam, whose suitcase-on-wheels bumped clumsily over rocks and jutting roots, hurried to keep up.

Not even the shock of seeing a bedraggled Ileana could keep Alex from breathing in the rich scents of the forest. She felt instantly energized, almost overpowered by its lushness. The sandy soil and pine needles gave way to brilliant foliage. Amid many shades of green were pink azaleas, white birches, cherry trees in early spring flower, purple and white lilacs, and golden forsythia. Alex was awed and amazed. Every single fragrance was familiar to her, remembered, a sensual memory long buried, now awakened. Comforting and consoling — this was hers.

What Alex took in, Cam, without meaning to, pushed away. She didn’t stop or even pause to smell the roses — or anything at all. Seeing the one person who could make her feel safe, so changed, admittedly helpless, sent Cam zooming back into the panic zone. There, she babbled nonstop to hear the sound of her own voice, to make sure it was the same upbeat one she used in Marble Bay, where she was now sure she definitely belonged!

“Where are we going? Where are we staying? Is there, like, a hotel or something? Or maybe a Country Inn? I’m so totally up for a hot shower. I mean, there
is
running water, right?”

Ileana ignored her. Cam added, “Do cell phones work here?” She had a burning need to call home, to connect with her best bud Beth and her other friends who, like Jason, knew nothing about this part of her life.

Telepathically, Alex asked,
Did you bring a bathing suit?

Cam scrunched her forehead.
What are you talking about?

This isn’t spring break, MTV-girl. Hotels? Cell phones? Your friends? What’s next? Pop idol contests?
Aloud, Alex said, “So we’re probably staying with our … with Miranda? How is she?”

“No — and deluded,” Ileana answered, not turning to look at them. “Your mother still trusts Thantos. She’s with him at Crailmore.”

“Crailmore?” Alex repeated. “What’s that? Coventry’s version of a mental institution?” At once, Alex wished she could take back that crack. Their long-lost mother, Miranda, had spent years locked away in a “clinic” in California.

Ileana stopped abruptly and whirled on them. A
spark of her old self returned. “How little you know. Crailmore is the DuBaer estate. It’s been in the family for generations.”

“Can we go there? Can we see her?” Cam asked nervously, unsure that she even wanted to.

“You’re not prisoners here, go wherever you want. No doubt you’ll receive an invitation to Crailmore. Thantos knows you’re here.”

“So this Crailmore place,” Alex asked, “is that where our parents lived? Where we were born?”

“We were probably born in a hospital …” Cam started, and then regarded her woodsy surroundings, “or not.”

Ileana sighed wearily. “There’s a quota on questions. You’ve used yours up.”

But a few minutes later, she relented — possibly just to silence Cam, who’d returned to babble-land. “Aron and Miranda got married and built their own home, LunaSoleil.”
Loona So Lay
, she pronounced it. “Moon and sun. That’s where you were born.”

“So we’ll be bunking there?” Alex asked, thrilled by the idea.

Until Ileana shot it down. “You’ve exceeded the question-quota. Besides, we’re here.”

An abrupt clearing in the wood revealed a stone
cottage. Ileana’s house, they instantly understood, underwhelmed. There was nothing regal or pretentious about the modest stone cottage, nothing palatial, extravagant, or exceptional announcing, “A Goddess Lives Here.”

Unless you counted the astonishing herb garden. Here, colorful, fragrant, and lush plants grew high, wide, and bountiful, looking every bit as wondrous as their magical properties.

Staring at it from the gate, Alex was awed. “This
rocks
. Does everyone on Coventry have these? Gardens to, you know, to help do stuff?”

“Do stuff?” Ileana shook her head. “Right, that’s why we grow herbs. To do stuff.”

Alex felt chastised. Cam came to her rescue. “I can recognize some of them. Lavender … rosemary. Those sprigs are … myrtle. And isn’t this the one …” — she pointed to an aromatic plant with sparse leaves — “… the one Karsh called skullcap? It makes you sleepy, right? And there’s mugwort, for the traveling spell.”

A ray of pleasure pierced Ileana’s cloud of doom. Karsh would be
so
proud of the twins. She couldn’t wait to tell him —

Her face fell, remembering.

She snapped, “Flora-appreciation hour is up. Take the keys.”

“Aren’t you coming in with us?” Cam was instantly nervous.

Not now. Not tonight. I can’t face this place
, Alex caught Ileana thinking.

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“I’ll spend the night at Karsh — that is, Lord Karsh’s cottage. I’ve things to deal with there.”

“Is that where …?” Cam began.

“He is? Where his body is?” Alex finished her sentence.

Ileana flinched but raised her head regally. “Of course not. As befits an Exalted Elder, Lord Karsh lies in state at the Unity Dome, where tomorrow’s ceremony will take place.”

She seemed ready to say more but paused, bit her lip to keep it from trembling, then turned abruptly and left them.

Cam began to hyperventilate as an unwelcome flashback attacked her. Once, when she’d been about five years old, she’d gotten separated from her mom in a big department store. She’d only been lost for a little while, but the overwhelming panic of feeling abandoned had made her stomach lurch. Exactly as it was right now.

Sensing her sister’s alarm, Alex quickly explained, “She’s not abandoning us. Our guardian witch can’t deal,
apparently, with her own home. Let’s check into Casa Ileana and find out why.”

Three slate steps led to the front door, which Alex bounded in one exuberant leap.

Cam lagged outside to take stock of her surroundings in case she got lost. Or something. Anyway, she was in no hurry to cross the threshold into Cousin Ileana’s.

Alex let herself in. It took her eyes a minute to adjust. The slice of sun from the open front door was the only light in the dark, damp, and chilled room. Probably from being left empty for several days. She drew the curtains apart.

And stiffened, stunned.

Someone
had
been there. Someone who’d turned Casa Ileana into Casa Trash-eana. A demolition derby of wanton destruction confronted her. Ileana’s sitting room had been ransacked, furniture viciously ripped apart, keepsakes, laptop, lanterns, photos, vases smashed, strewn across the floor. Even the skylights were broken. That accounted for the dampness and cold.

No wonder she couldn’t face this place, Alex thought.

“Who would do this?” Cam came rushing up behind Alex. “Who hates her this much?”

The answer was a gimme.

Tsuris and Vey, the overgrown dolts who put the
“sin” in cousins. They blamed Ileana for their father, Fredo’s, current jailbird status — it meant nothing to them that he was … hel-
lo!
… guilty! They were out for Ileana’s blood, but apparently settled for wrecking her home.

Anger twisted in Alex’s gut. If only she knew Coventry well enough, she’d rout out the spiteful, murdering slobs and show them what real revenge looked like.

They surveyed the destruction.

“You think?” Cam wavered, reading her sister’s mind.

“Yeah, I do,” Alex said. Ileana’s damaged home was like a reminder of the proud witch’s broken soul. What choice did she and Cam really have? They would roll up their sleeves and make it right, pick up the pieces of Ileana’s … life.

While Alex used her telekinetic power to float Ileana’s keepsakes, knickknacks, and clothing back to their original places, Cam picked her way through the rubble, cleaning up the old-fashioned way. A gold-framed picture drew her eye. Cam stared at it and smiled.

An astonishingly beautiful woman — so much more radiant than the woman they’d met only last week — her hair long and chestnut-colored, her eyes luminous and gray, stared back at her. The woman’s arm was wrapped
protectively around the shoulders of an exquisite blond-haired, beaming child. Miranda and Ileana.

Cam called Alex to come look. “She was something else back then, wasn’t she? Miranda.”

“A regular babe.” Tears welled in Alex’s eyes, though she wiped them away hastily. “That’s what Karsh once said.”

“I wish she’d come to meet us. Do you believe she’s really at that Crailmore place?” Cam asked.

“Under the watchful and healing presence of dear Uncle Thantos?” Alex retorted sarcastically.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s find out.” Cam flipped open her cell phone.

Alex snickered, “You’re gonna
call
her? How? Oh, wait, I can just hear the conversation.” She put on a computer voice. “‘AT&T Direct. City and state, please.’” Alex then mimicked Cam, whining, “‘Don’t you have a listing for Coventry Island? No, there’s no address. They don’t
do
addresses there. Can’t you just connect me with Crailmore?’ ”

Cam frowned. It irked her when Alex was right. “Well, maybe somewhere in this mess there’s a phone book.” She refused to give in.

Alex crossed her arms. “Yeah, I’m sure everything works exactly like in Marble Bay. Give it up, Camryn. If we want to contact our mother right now, our best bet is telepathy.”

Cam sighed. “Right. And if Mom … Miranda was healthy and had her powers back, she’d have contacted us by now.”

Unless she doesn’t want to see us
. Cam’s thought, but Alex reluctantly agreed.