Autumn Storm (9 page)

“Not really,” Beck replied. He sat down in
front of the blazing fire in the stone hearth, the source of the
light he’d seen. He met his father’s gaze, thoughtful. “Dawn told
me it’s a girl.”

His father lowered the e-reader and turned
on the light beside his chair. Beck sprawled out on his back,
staring at the log ceiling.

“Am I being irresponsible?” he asked.

“That’s a hard question to answer, Beck,”
his father said. “Do I think you should be involved in your
daughter’s life? Yes. Do I think you should consent to a shotgun
wedding for the sake of a child? Not necessarily. If the
environment you’d create is unhealthy, no.”

“I keep praying the kid’s not mine. Then I
feel awful, because she’s someone’s daughter, stuck with a mother
like that,” Beck said. “I think with me as a father …” He couldn’t
say the words.

“She’d have a chance?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re right. You’ll make a great
father.”

“How can you believe that?” Beck asked.
“Look at this mess! I never thought twice about sleeping with her.
How can I be a good father, let alone protect the Light witchlings
when I’m so stupid? It’s insane!”

His father smiled. “You’re aware of your
weakness. You’re working on it. That’s most of the battle,
son.”

Michael Turner always had the answers. Beck
sighed in exasperation. He wished he was half as calm or confident
as his father.

“You’ll make a strong Master of Light. It
takes time, though.”

“I don’t have time,” Beck said, thinking
about Decker and Autumn. He turned his head to see his mother. “I
can’t protect my own family. How can I add a kid to the mix?”

“One day at a time. First, we need to
confirm the kid is yours. If so, she and her mother will never want
for anything.”

“I know. I’m not worried about the financial
stuff. I feel so guilty leaving Dawn on her own, but I want a
relationship like yours and mom’s. Do Light Master’s have a mate
like Dark Masters?”

“Not sure. Sam probably knows. Either way,
you shouldn’t marry someone you have doubts about.”

“There’s no doubt,” Beck said. “I don’t
want
to marry her. If I listened to Decker or stopped to
think before sleeping with her…” He shook his head. “I won’t do
that again.”

“Thank goodness.” His father was amused.

Beck’s face grew warm. He didn’t know how
his father took everything so calmly.

“Why is mom sleeping on the couch?” he asked
suddenly.

“Interesting question. I noticed you didn’t
ask why she’s washing down drugs with alcohol.” There was quiet
concern in Michael’s voice.

Beck sat up but didn’t meet his father’s
gaze.

“I hoped the secrets stopped once Decker
became Master of Dark.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” he said. “You’re not
getting a divorce, are you?” The irrational fear at the thought of
his foundation crumbling made his breath hitch. He was barely able
to handle his life as it was.

Michael chuckled. “No, son.”

“I think it’s the last secret,” Beck said,
wanting to offer some comfort to the person who knew what to say to
him.

“She’s hurting and won’t let me help her.
That’s what frustrates me.”

“I know that feeling. God, do I know that
feeling!”

“Sometimes, you have to let them come to
you, as much as it sucks.”

The chances that Decker asked for help
before sinking into the Darkness weren’t good. And Autumn was too
stubborn. Beck’s gaze lingered on his mother, who was just as
likely to crack as his twin. He didn’t like the worry in his
father’s voice, though he was struck by how much he and his father
had in common. His whole life, Michael had been the source of
strength and unity for the family.

“How the hell have you lived with mom all
these years?” Beck demanded. “I’m about to kill Decker.”

“You’ll understand one day,” his father said
with a smile.

Beck forced himself to his feet. He felt a
little better, though he wasn’t at all happy not to talk to his
mother about Autumn.

“Mind if I stay here tonight?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna lay down. I need some
quiet time and some of Grandpa Louis’s crepes.”

“All you can do is your best, Beck.”

Beck nodded, unconvinced. His best had yet
to be remotely good enough. He left the living area, guilty for
keeping a family secret from his father. They were sworn to secrecy
about Autumn. It was worse for his mother, for she promised to
stand by while Decker fell into Darkness. She understood what it
meant. Beck didn’t exactly, but if it drove his normally in-control
mother to sleeping pills and alcohol, it was worse than he could
imagine.

Which meant Decker was suffering even more.
Beck went to his room and turned on the light. His gaze went to a
framed picture on his dresser, and he crossed to it. It was him and
Decker, two Christmases ago. Before Decker went Dark. Before they
became Masters. Before their world went to shit.

Beck didn’t know how to get his brother
back. He wasn’t even sure he could. It was in Autumn’s hands, and
he wasn’t getting a warm fuzzy about her ability to fix Decker in
time. Frustrated at being helpless, he threw himself across the
bed, doubting he’d be able to sleep.

Autumn found herself alone in the small gym
near the instructors’ offices. She breathed in then slowly out as
she did another repetition on the leg curl machine. Her leg shook
and burned. The pain grew intense, and she closed her eyes.

Uuuuuup. Pause. Dooooown.

Ten.

She sighed. She’d missed Friday’s therapy,
and her body was punishing her for it this morning. Sitting up, she
stretched her right leg and did her gentle mobility exercises.

It ached from all her activity since
arriving to the school. Her eyes went to the scars running along
one whole side and the crisscross of lines around her knee. She
still expected her knee to creak when she bent it, like the Tinman
squeaked every time he moved on the Wizard of Oz. The movie had
played at least once a week while she was in the hospital. She
thought of her right leg as being like the Tinman’s: metal, bolts
and plastic, except hers was held together by new muscle and
covered by skin. She didn’t have much feeling in most of her leg,
other than her foot.

Relieved to have the worst of her routine
over, Autumn rose and limped to the display of free weights along
one wall. Her body had had to relearn most of its movements after
the accident. Aside from her leg and the split down her face and
neck, she’d broken one arm, herniated a couple of discs in her back
and torn muscles in her right shoulder. Internal hemorrhaging had
been the biggest threat during her first week in the hospital. Once
it was clear she’d survive, they’d started her immediately into
restoring the parts of her body they could while the rest of her
went through surgeries.

Rehab had concentrated as much on
strengthening her core as rebuilding the muscles around her
injuries. She was surprised – and pleased – to see the Pilates
reformer machine in the school gym when she walked in this morning.
The hospital had one as well, and the nurses taught her how to use
it. She’d started with her core this morning then moved onto her
legs. Next up: the chest and arm exercises.

When she finished with the two hour session,
she stood shakily before the mirrors lining one wall. With her hair
in a bun and no makeup, she saw the scar clearly that ran down the
side of her face and neck and those along her right arm and leg.
She looked like Raggedy Ann: held together by stitching and nothing
else. That cartoon, too, had played every day at the hospital.

She almost smiled. Three months ago, she’d
hurt so much, she wanted to die. She’d awoken the third day in the
hospital to a wall of pain that seemed like it would crush her. The
surgeries, needles, headaches from medications. The agony. The
drugs they gave her took the edge off but didn’t stop it. There’d
been no escape. Unable to move or cry, she’d been lost in the pain
for days, until she woke one day and decided she had to survive. If
she hadn’t died, there was a reason. Something was waiting for her
on the other end of her recovery. She just had to make it that
far.

She turned her focus from the pain to being
alive. The Wizard of Oz, the blue sky outside her hospital window,
the small victories in being able to move more of her body every
day – these distractions helped her get through the days. Instead
of seeing each surgery as resulting in another journey of pain, she
saw it as a step closer to rebuilding her body.

Pain was a constant, like the terrible
elevator music in the hallways where she’d waited for rehab or more
surgeries. She vowed it wouldn’t beat her. She’d made it and
better, she’d recovered faster than anyone at the hospital
expected.

Autumn was proud of herself. Her memories
were gone, but her mind still worked. They’d feared brain damage
after the hemorrhaging. Aside from a concussion, she’d suffered no
lasting damage. Her brain was healthy, and so were her organs. She
simply had to rebuild her musculature. She’d defeated the weakness
with sheer will. These scars and aches were all that remained of
the agony, and they were fading. She was winning.

Maybe it didn’t matter if she ever
remembered, especially since trying gave her such bad headaches.
She was grateful to be alive. If she survived the accident, she’d
survive anything.

Drained from her morning workout, she left
the gym upbeat. She’d try wearing her brace half the day and then
leaving it off half the day. The doctors said to do what was
comfortable, as long as she was weaning herself off of it and doing
her exercises. The smell of breakfast made her pause at the foot of
the stairwell and look into the dining room. It was early, just
after eight, but Jenna was at the table. Her hair was tousled, and
she wore her pajamas.

After a split moment of indecision, Autumn
joined her at the table.

“Oh, no!” Jenna said, covering her face. “I
was hoping no one was up yet. I didn’t even put on make-up.”

“I don’t care,” Autumn said with a smile.
She lowered herself into the seat across from Jenna.

“You’re so good, going to the gym.”

“Kinda have to.”

Jenna’s gaze went to the scars. Autumn
ducked her head, but the pretty girl said nothing about her
injuries.

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving next
week?” Jenna asked.

“No.”

“I’m not sure if I am or not. Adam says they
have a big party here. I thought about staying. Have you …” she
leaned forward “you know, figured out this element thing?”

“Not really,” Autumn said.

The same woman who served dinner brought
them both huge plates of steaming food: scrambled eggs, bacon, hash
browns and golden pancakes covered with huckleberries. Both Autumn
and Jenna were quiet. Autumn shoveled the food into her mouth,
hungry after her workout.

“Who was that Beck guy?” Jenna asked.

“I don’t really know,” Autumn admitted. “I
met him when we got here. He’s nice. A bit strange like everyone
else.”

“Yeah they are weird. Amber sat down with me
yesterday. I guess I’m a water element. I don’t understand what
that means, though.”

Autumn nodded, thoughts going to Beck’s
reaction when she told him about her two elements. Maybe it was bad
to have two, and he didn’t want to tell her. In any case, she
wanted to play with the elements today, like the orientation book
said to. They whispered to her. Maybe, if she sat really quietly,
she’d hear them speak actual words.

Jenna talked about Adam, and Autumn
half-listened, more interested in her food and the magick. When she
finished, she left the dining room and went to the front porch. The
morning air was cold, but she didn’t feel like walking up the
stairs again for a jacket. Stairs killed her leg, and she didn’t
want to deal with Dawn, who had stormed into the room late last
night, drunk and screaming about something.

Autumn had huddled under her covers and
waited for her roommate to pass out.

Shivering, Autumn made her way down the
porch stairs and walked to the edge of the forest again. Sunlight
fell in patches through the thick wood. Uncertain why, she was
disappointed it was too cold for flowers, like the bluebells she
remembered coating the floor.

The nearest tree leaned down to her. She
stretched up with a smile, brushing her fingers against the
needles. Air whipped through the forest ahead of her, clearing a
narrow path through the forest. The trees bowed away.

Autumn hesitated. They wanted her to enter
the forest. She glanced at the house. It was too large for her to
lose sight of easily. She moved into the tree line. Branches swept
by her, closing the path behind her. Pine needles tickled her arms
and neck, releasing bursts of fresh scent and warm magick.