Tori took a deep breath. “I’ll run back and see if I can find the key.”
“How?” Felicia demanded. “You don’t have a flashlight.”
Tori gritted her teeth. “Do you have a better idea?”
She ran down the path, aggravated that no one volunteered to go with her. She listened to every night sound, totally expecting to hear noises that were out of the ordinary.
When she reached the site, she stood still so her eyes could again adjust to the dim light. Almost as if bidden, she wandered to the rock that had held the gargoyle.
Two large pieces of the statue lay on the ground, almost as if it had split in half.
Why didn’t the shock wave shatter it?
The cauldron lay on its side where it had rolled away from the now defunct fire. She kicked it with her shoe and turned it toward her. She frowned and knelt down.
It was intact. Not a crack on it.
What the hell blew up?
Prickles up the back of her neck made her feel watched. She heard a crashing in the dark, like something thrashing its way through the bushes. Panic clawed its way up her spine, and she struggled to take a deep breath.
It’s just a deer. Or a hog.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Find the keys and get the hell out of here.
Arguing with herself was a bad, but common, habit she’d developed at an early age. She dropped to her knees and crawled around the area where Helena had fallen. She almost cried in relief when her fingers came in contact with the cold metal of the key.
With a final look at what remained of the gargoyle, she leapt up and ran all the way back to the car, a cold terror dogging her every step of the way.
Chapter Three
Felicia handed Tori a mug of coffee early the following afternoon. Tori took a sip while she stared at her sister.
“I know, I know. You don’t have to say anything.”
Tori snorted. “I haven’t. Yet.”
“Your eyes are telling me everything you want to say, trust me.”
“Now I’m supposed to trust you after you almost got us killed last night.”
Felicia protested. “I didn’t do it.”
“We, as in you and I, wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for you.” Tori slammed her mug down and sloshed coffee on the counter. “Dammit, Felicia. I told you exactly what was going to happen last night. You are not Mom. You can’t handle the dark arts like that.”
“You were always more like her than I am.”
Tori bristled at the comparison. “You know I don’t like messing around with that stuff.”
“And you never dabble when you’re working with your kids, right? You just happen to have good luck with all the adoptions you facilitate, is that it?” Felicia rolled her eyes. “I know. You’re the occultist that likes the research part of it rather than the actual practicing witch part. But guess what? It doesn’t mean you didn’t inherit Mom’s powers.”
“My job at the group home has nothing to do with witchcraft.” Familiar sadness washed through Tori. “And Mom’s powers really saved her, didn’t they?”
“Come on, Tor. You know that not even witchcraft can beat cancer.”
“Either way. Y’all almost killed Rosie last night. She’s going to have a really long uphill battle to get her brain unscrambled.”
Felicia refilled her mug. “Lucky for us she doesn’t remember what happened. It was hard enough to convince the doctors that we were stargazing in an open field when she tripped and hit her head.”
Tori took another sip. “Yeah, if she had woken up then and wanted to know about the gargoyle, the nurses probably would have turned you in as nuts.”
Felicia slowly stirred sugar into her cup. “What do you think happened out there?”
Trepidation made the hairs on her arm stand up. “I don’t know. I was watching and still have no idea.”
“The last thing I remember is Helena throwing your hair in the pot.”
“Figures.” Tori reached for the coffee pot. “I wondered if that was my hair.”
“I wonder what happened to the statue.”
“It broke in two pieces. I saw them when I went back to look for the keys.”
“Should we go get them?”
Tori jerked her head up. “Hell, no. Leave them there.”
“What if someone finds them?”
“Then it’s a couple pieces of broken marble, or whatever that stone is. No more, no less.”
Felicia stayed quiet. “It didn’t look to me like the pot was broken.”
Tori bit her lip. “It wasn’t. I checked that, too.”
“Then what exploded? And how did the statue break but not the pot?”
I need to go back there.
The thought sent shivers through her body. If there was one place she didn’t want to go, that was it.
“I don’t know, sis. I have no idea what happened. I need you to write down the spell though, so I can figure it out.”
Felicia headed toward the office. “I’ll get on that now.”
Tori put her mug in the sink. She didn’t really need the spell written down; it echoed enough in her head that it was burned into her memory. She just needed to keep Felicia occupied. She paced the kitchen; first she set her mug down, then she picked her mug up. Refilled it. Paced some more and the coffee got cold. Dumped it and started over.
Rinse and repeat.
She jumped when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display and groaned. Just what I need.
“Hi, Dad. How are you?”
Edward St. Cyr minced no words. “What’s going on?”
“Just drinking coffee, why?” She squeezed her eyes shut tight. There was no way she could play stupid. He wouldn’t allow it.
“Tell me, Victorianna. What happened?”
Uh oh. Full name. He already knows.
While Edward didn’t have the mystical gene that their mother had possessed, he was sensitive to the power. When something major happened, he felt it all the way on the other side of town in his nursing home.
“Felicia may have tapped into something that she shouldn’t have. It wasn’t anything major, just a mistake.” I hope.
“I trusted you to keep her safe.”
Tori sighed. This was not their first round of the same conversation. “Dad, she’s a grown woman. I can only control her so much. And she’s the oldest, so technically, she should be taking care of me, not the other way around.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Roger is not around to take care of her.”
“Our dear brother has never been around to take care of either of us.” Worthless as ever.
She knew she wasted her breath. Edward never lost hope that his son would step up.
“I have to be able to trust you, Victorianna.”
Again, with the full name.
“Yes, Dad. I’ll keep a better eye on her.” She gritted her teeth, but experience had taught her it was the only response to end the conversation. At this rate, I’m going to need dentures.
She tossed her phone on the counter and refilled her coffee again. “I don’t even know why I drink the stuff. I waste more than I actually consume.”
When her phone rang again, she almost ignored it. A quick peek sent a wave of relief through her.