Beautifully Broken (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The single candle flickered like a beacon of bad tidings. I blew it out. Nobody said anything. Dad carved the cake. I caught Jillian staring at Trent with intense gimlet eyes. I moved closer and stood behind them. I pretended to fiddle with the paper plates, staying within earshot.

Aunt Lauren slid up beside Jillian. “Sooo, Maxwell Donovan’s son. I wonder why Maxwell finally returned to Whispering Pines after all these years.”

“What are you implying?” Jillian’s tone was low, malicious.

“
Please.
You know
exactly
what I’m implying.” Aunt Lauren’s face contorted into a scowl.

“Who invited you anyway?”

“Why, your handsome husband, dear sister.”

 
“I’ll bet,” Jillian said through clenched teeth. “So you thought you’d show up after all these years and try to rattle me?
Pathetic
.” Her eyes flashed with outrage. “Stay away from
my
husband.”

Aunt Lauren flinched. “Why?” she asked, her tone frosty and exact. “Should I tell him that you got him by spells and trickery, little sister?”

Jillian’s eyes changed. For a second, the hazel within them was totally engulfed in black. Her tone was sharp enough to cut a diamond. “How dare you speak to me like that,” she exclaimed, obviously incensed that her sister would dare chastise her.

“Watch yourself. Before I tell
you-know-who
the truth.” Aunt Lauren’s sea-green eyes narrowed. “We all know—you like to steal what isn’t yours.” She shrugged. “One day, the truth will be exposed. And I can’t wait to watch you squirm.”

Jillian prowled around Aunt Lauren, her aura darkened with a deepness older than night. In her dainty hand, the glass of wine was in danger of spilling. “Truth? You’re living in the past.
I’m
the one who has made sacrifices.
I’m
the one stuck doing the family duty, because you were found incompetent.”

 
“Duty? To the
coven
—maybe, but not to your own flesh and blood.”

 
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jillian picked invisible lint off her dress. Her cheeks turned bright red, like a drop of blood on a single white rose. “The years haven’t been kind to you. Your magick has become feeble.”

Aunt Lauren snorted. “Hardly,” she said in a low and menacing voice. “God, we are
such
opposites. You worked dark magick and risked your soul pursuing power. And now I am surrounded by white light. You can’t hurt me.”

Jillian opened her mouth then shut it, something cruel stirring in her eyes. Their voices escalated over the chatter and music. People gawked at the quarreling pair. Everyone appeared uncomfortable. They resembled two wild cats with their fur up.

“You can’t mess with old magicks.” Jillian’s next words were acidic. “You should be careful, Lauren. In the old days, if a witch betrayed her coven, they killed her.”

“You don’t scare me. Or are you gonna try to curse me too?” Jillian’s gaze flicked to me and her eyes went black. The room went quiet at Aunt Lauren’s next outburst. “Don’t even think about it! I love Shiloh, and I’ll do everything I can to protect her.
Everything.
” Aunt Lauren’s murky aura glimmered above her head like dark clouds threatening a storm. Her tone became fire and ice. “Our blood is strong in her. She
will
understand that someday, and she’ll understand all the sacrifices
I’ve
made!”

Dad jerked his head to glare hard at Jillian. With long strides, he crossed the room and confronted the two women. “That’s enough! I don’t understand either of you. Can’t you set your differences aside and be civil for one night?”

Aunt Lauren bowed her head. “I should go.” She gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving, and Jillian stalked into her room.

“I’d better go, Shiloh. It’s getting late,” Ariana said, putting on her coat. Everyone did the same, saying hasty goodbyes. My eyes searched for Trent but he had slipped out with the others. Dad disappeared into his bedroom, followed by the sounds of loud arguing. My party had been a disaster, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Trent.

 
I went to my room, tears welling in my throat. Even with the light on, every shadow seemed to move. I curled up in bed and clenched my teeth and toes, pulling the covers over my head. Some celebration.

In the morning, I woke up cranky. I decided to drive over to Ravenhurst and hang out with Evans. Trent’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and I was sorta glad. Evans and I had been spending a lot of time together in the library honing my magickal skills and learning spells. Doing research too. The titles strange and foreign,
Introduction to Parapsychology, Elements of Witchcraft
and
Underworld Hellspawn.
My powers were developing and expanding. And I actually looked forward to going to work most days, just to feel that supernatural purr that filled my senses whenever I practiced magick.

“I hope you enjoyed your post-birthday celebration,” Evans stated from the porch as I climbed out of the Jeep carrying a stack of books. He sat in the shade at the wicker dining set, eating his lunch.

 
“Thanks.” I staggered forward, balancing the heavy tomes in my arms. The ever-present fog that surrounded Ravenhurst did little to cool the muggy weather, and my chiffon blouse and cuffed shorts stuck to my skin. I carefully ascended the steps in my low-top black Converse. Under my breath I said, “Light as a feather. Swift as the breeze, make these books light as can be.” They became weightless.

Ahhh, much better.

“Glad you could come by today,” Evans said, standing as I approached. His gaze flicked to the maid sweeping the porch. “We need to, um, work on that
thing
after I finish my lunch. Meet me in the library.”

“Huh? What?”

“Inside the house. Where the books live. Ring any bells?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” I went inside and entered the library on my left. I dumped the books on the massive mahogany desk, knocking over a couple of white candles and scattering blueprints. Sitting down, I opened Evans’s laptop and searched the Internet on auras. I had been able to perceive auras for the last six years and I wondered if it was because my magick was emerging or if it had been brought on by my near death experience.

The stuffy room had a myriad of artwork on the walls between the built-in bookshelves. Above the fireplace mantel, sculptured with lavish scrollwork, there was a hook in the wall but a clean space. Odd. I slumped in the high-back chair, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the cool leather. I needed to think.

I’d no sooner closed my eyes when I became aware of a presence in the room. Whispers of unnatural heat wrapped themselves around my legs. Crawled up my torso. I bolted upright and that familiar panic seized me like a fist squeezing my heart. My knuckles clenched tight on the arms of the chair. Uncertainty pitched in my stomach, almost strong enough to rival the dark fear fueling my anxiety.

Black clouds of mist seeped beneath the double-doors. Whispers made my skin prickle and my teeth grind. The shadows undulated like some evil miasma from hell. Sinister shapes slithered over the floor.

I forced myself from the chair and lit the white candles on the desk I’d scattered earlier. I stood over them and visualized a band of silver light encircling me like a cocoon. I chanted softly, “All evil dwelling in this place. By my command, cleanse this space. Guard this house with my power. Be gone by the darkest hour.”

The shades recoiled and slunk away. They made horrible whimpering moans like wounded animals. 

Ha! Take that evil baddies!
I smiled with pride.

I sat back down at the desk with my elbow on it and rested my cheek on my fist. I browsed the books Evans had left out on Wicca, kept returning to the spell I’d just cast. One book said:
Wiccans use ancient and modern ceremonies, rituals and shamanic practices to attune themselves to the natural rhythms of nature, the world and the universe in their efforts to commune with this divine force. The Old Religion is known by many names: Nature Spirituality, Shamanism, and Wicca, which goes back to Neolithic Times through prayer, casting circles, reciting spells, using herbs and candles…

I shut the book, opened the laptop again to search the web for heritage witches, and found hundreds of websites. After reading eight different sites, I felt more knowledgeable regarding my magick. About casting spells and rituals. But I didn’t know enough. That was clear.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket and I pulled it out. Trent texted: Want 2 hang later?

I texted back: Oh yeah.

“My apologies, Maxwell called and wanted an update,” Evans said, striding into the room. “His son may be in denial about what is happening here, but I can assure you that Maxwell is not. You’d be astounded at how overly dictatorial he can be.” He rubbed his eyes. “I promised to help, but I’m not a miracle worker and these things take time. Like learning about magick and its proper usage.”

I frowned and shoved my cell back into my pocket. “This isn’t my first casting, ya know. Not that I get around—er—so
not
what I meant! I’m a good girl!” I was babbling. My face heated. “I meant,” I said in a softer tone. “I’ve done spells before, and my mojo is getting stronger every day.”

“Yes, I commend your confidence, but all witches must exercise their abilities. Today we’ll work on something new. You may not realize this, but most witches are not only capable of harnessing mystical forces through invocations and rituals but also by force of will, especially in more experienced witches.”

My face went slack. “Whatever.”

“This is critical, young lady. Magick is seductive and additive. You can become spellbound by its power. Magick doesn’t alter the laws of physics, but instead modifies them. Therefore, magick adheres to the elementary physical laws of the universe. For instance, it is impossible to create or destroy energy, but it is possible to transfer it with use of a catalyst, such as a crystal or element.”

Evans had me sit cross-legged on the floor within a circle of salt in front of a lit candle. He sat on the sofa across from me, an opened book on his knee
—Magical
Growth
. “Concentrate on the flame. I want you to tap into its natural energy.”

I stilled my spinning thoughts and stared at the burning wick. I focused hard on the glowing red flame. Deep inside, magick softly whispered to me. Evans said that part of being a witch was having a ubiquitous desire for knowledge. My human side accepted the fact that not all questions had an answer. Magick itself was never black or white.
 

The flame sparked like a firework then blazed into a beautiful fountain of light. Within my element, I saw an image of Ravenhurst dancing in the flames. The mansion’s dark mystical convergence resembled a muddy cloud. Within the cloud were figures. Writhing souls. They screamed and moaned for release.

My voice sounded soft yet powerful,
“Fire is the
eternal flame, I call upon its elemental name. As strong as the sun’s rays, let the darkness shrivel and decay.”

Evans was propelled across the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“You’re getting stronger. Good show.” Evans sat up, rubbing the back of his head where it had collided with the bookcase. “What did you see, Shiloh? Did you see the source of Ravenhurst’s power? Its aura?” He dusted off his pants.

After the power of my magick had flung Evans across the room, he’d been thrilled with my skills instead of ticked off. Whew!

“Yeah…and it’s an ugly, twisted muddy thing. It needs a makeover—and fast!”

He looked down his nose at me with raised brows. “Since you’ve started using magick, I see you’ve gained a sense of whimsy.”

We laughed as his cell rang. Maxwell again.

“I need to get this. Perhaps it might be safer if you found a place outside Ravenhurst to practice magic. Somewhere clear of the evil miasma that makes up Ravenhurst’s essence.”

“Sure. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Evans flipped open his phone. I waved goodbye and headed to my jeep. My hands were still shaking with magick, and it took me four tries to get the engine started. The Jeep roared to life, and a breath pushed itself past my lips. I put the Jeep into gear and sped off. I needed to exercise my magickal talents away from Ravenhurst.

Outside of town, there was a small lagoon bordering the city limits near Muir Woods. A special place to me. Somewhere I’d go when my issues with Jillian got too much, or when I couldn’t take Ashley’s taunts. Fifteen minutes later, I parked, and hopped out. One side of the lagoon was a dense meadow and the other thick with trees, their torsos covered with moss. The forest had California bay, pine, maple, redwood, and Douglas fir. Along the magnificent face of twilight, the sun pulled closed the drapes of night, creating more shadows and dark patches around me. Eyes twinkled from tree hollows. Winds yowled among malformed trunks and ancient ferns, carrying the sickly stench of decomposed wood and stagnant pools of water. The carpet of dead leaves and twigs snapped and crackled underfoot. Dark and dank, yes, but here I felt safe.

I reclined against a fallen tree, close to the edge of the water. I closed my eyes. Let my senses absorb nature flourishing around me. Drawing energy from Mother Earth was another source of power. I sensed my aura all around me. I focused on it until I had a strong awareness of it. Then I let my aura project out as far as I could. Light pierced my crown chakra from the source of Mother Earth, straight into the center of my body, and embedded itself in my center. A white light radiated in spikes outward from my body. The earth, ferns, woods, wind, and water all lent me their energy. Magick gave me a pleasant buzz as it hummed through me.

A thin silver spark flew from my index finger and, like a lightning bolt, struck a pine across the lagoon. Smoke billowed from where I’d hit the trunk.

Cool.
Soon I’d be formidable enough to face Esael alone.

I practiced a few more small spells. At seven o’clock, I drove home to shower. I applied MAC olive frost eye shadow, lined my eyes with an ebony pencil, and smudged the line. Then I brushed on blush and applied berry lip-gloss. I left my hair loose in long, natural waves. After digging in my closet, I found a castoff of Jillian’s, a slinky dress with a deep V-shaped neckline. I put it on and slid a mauve sweater over the short dress to hide my scar. I slipped on a pair of strappy silver slingbacks, then I checked the mirror. Not bad. Date-ready.

The doorbell rang, and I tottered into the living room. After taking a deep breath and letting it out, I opened the door.

There Trent stood—all six feet of him—smiling. I stepped outside and shut the door.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Uh, no. My parents aren’t, um, home.” My teeth raked over my bottom lip.

“That’s cool.” Trent took my hand and led me towards his Mustang parked at the end of our driveway. He looked unbelievable in a black pullover open at the collar under a leather jacket and jeans with vintage leather boots.

As I was about to get into the car, Trent whistled. “Wow, you look hot.”

“Thank you…you look nice too. I like your shoes,” I muttered like an idiot.

Trent opened the car door for me then went over to the driver’s side. He slid into the seat and started the engine. Tires squealed as his foot hit the gas, and we flew backward out of my driveway. He turned right and blew through several stop signs without even tapping the brake.
           

“It’s weird,” he said without looking at me. He drove fast, weaving expertly through the slower moving cars on Main Street headed toward the other end of town.

I couldn’t see Trent’s expression in the glow from the dashboard. Only his pale and perfect profile. “What’s weird? Me? My outfit? Because, I—”

“No. No, your dress is amazing.” Trent stopped at the traffic light and drummed his fingers on the wheel. “It’s like, one minute I’ve got you figured out. The next minute, it’s like you’re two different people.” He glanced in my direction. “You’re not like other girls.”

Boy, he doesn’t realize how right he is.

 
“I’m a mystery to unravel.” I batted my eyelashes flirtatiously.

“Is there something in your eye?”

Looking away, I pouted and mumbled, “Was trying to be flirty.”

He laughed, and we shot forward as the light turned green. Out the window, my eye caught dark shapes flurrying beside the car in a blur of shadow. My heart thudded in my chest. Trent reached for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine, his other hand on the wheel. Remarkable how fast the throttling fear evaporated and a feeling of security washed over me just by the touch of his hand.

The engine purred and the Mustang floated above the paved streets.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Dinner and then—”

The screaming wail of a police siren and red flashing lights had Trent slowing down. He mumbled a curse under his breath and pulled the sports car to a screeching halt. He pushed a button and the window automatically went down.

A light shone in our eyes, blinding us before the policeman shifted the large flashlight he held. “License and registration, please.” The light hit my eyes. “That you, Shiloh?”

“Yeah. Can you not shine that in my eyes, Larry?”

“Officer Dobbs while I’m on duty,” he snapped, scratching his horseshoe of hair. Although Larry was a chubby man, he looked somewhat regal in his uniform.

“Yes, sir.” I faced forward in a huff.

Trent rummaged through the glove compartment and handed Officer Dobbs his information.

Dobbs held the flashlight up to examine the driver’s license. As he scanned it, the gruffness in his tone ebbed as a spark of recognition lit his face. “You’re Maxwell Donovan’s boy.”

“That would be me,” Trent said.

“Nice to have you guys back in town.” Officer Dobbs waggled a finger at Trent. “You gotta slow down, son.”

Trent snatched his license from his hand. “Sure. We’re late for a dinner reservation.” His mercurial eyes sharpened with sudden irritation. “Now if you can write the ticket, we’ll be on our way.”

“Look son, wasn’t gonna give you a ticket, you being Maxwell Donovan’s boy. Just ease off the gas pedal. Don’t forget the curfew is ten o’clock in Whispering Pines.” He returned to his vehicle.

Trent took his eyes off the road long enough to give me a quizzical glance. “What’s with the curfew?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“I’ve been trying to keep a low profile. Fill me in.”

I pursed my lips. “About fifteen years ago, kids started disappearing. Some turned up dead after dark. Sheriff Boyd’s daughter Sarah was one of them. He thinks there’s a serial killer loose in the county. Hence the lame curfew. Folks stay inside after dark anyway.” I didn’t mention that many people blamed Ravenhurst, as being the source of the disappearances.
 
Like Paige’s.

He shifted into first gear and we took off. He turned left on Wilshire Drive and parked at the valet service. The valet opened my door and helped me out. Trent tossed him the keys as he passed. He walked to the glass door of the restaurant and held it open for me. “After you,” he said.

I moved past him into the lobby. The restaurant was crowded, but the hostess led us to a corner booth Trent had reserved. White linen tablecloths covered the tables. A waiter appeared and pulled out my chair, then handed us menus. Trent ordered for us. Distracted by the elegantly clothed patrons and the posh surroundings. I wrung the linen napkin in my lap.

Breathe. Be confident, Shiloh.

Finally, I gulped and forced out words. “So what do you do for fun? What books do you like? What do you look for in a girl?” I crossed and uncrossed my legs.
Shiloh, stop the ridiculous babble!
“Uh, everyone’s naturally curious.”

Apparently, Trent didn’t mind my inability to control my mouth. He chuckled. “Gee, everyone wants to know all about me.”

“Sure. It’s boring around here. Not like I’m doing an article for the local paper or anything. So if you have any dark secrets, you’d better fess up!”

He leaned back, folding his arms. “Hmm, first tell me why you think I have dark secrets?”

 
“Don’t we all?” I winked. “You’re big news in Whispering Pines. So spill the beans.”

 
“
Well, I like to play rugby, read James Patterson and Scott Westerfeld, and I think most girls are sorta immature…I like girls that are feminine and mysterious with strawberry-scented hair—like you.”

I met his steady gaze. “
Ohhh,
I get it.” My cheeks turned pink. “I’ve always had a thing for the quiet, shy type. Arrogant pretty boys with ripped stomach muscles are nothing but
major
trouble.”

“Do you think I’m arrogant and pretty? Should I show you my abs?” He started to lift his shirt and I let out a screech and a laugh that had people looking at us.

“Shut up.” I looked at my hands in my lap, my nails sporting a bright flashy pink. Not yet chewed on. “Just arrogant…I’ll check out the abs…later.”

We burst out laughing at the same time. The waiter returned with two gourmet hamburgers and French fries. “Do you approve?” Trent grinned.

 
“Hamburgers. Yum.”

After we finished eating, Trent suggested we take a walk along the beach. San Francisco’s city lights twinkled as we drove on Highway 101 across the Bay Bridge. We parked by the Cliff House restaurant perched on by the sea, just north of Ocean Beach. We left the car and strolled along the seashore. Seagulls flew overhead, screeching into the surf. We slipped off our shoes and walked along the beach, the sand gritty beneath bare feet. A round moon glowed above us, casting luminous strands on his pale hair.

“You know what? I’m glad I met you,” he said. “Glad you came to the interview that night. There weren’t really any cool girls at my new school. Lot of geeks.” He grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re different.”

Apart from the street lamps and the glow of the moon, darkness reigned. Too many shadows. I sensed eyes watching from the darkness. Prayed they wouldn’t reveal themselves. Not tonight.

“Shiloh?”

Tiny pinpricks attacked my flesh. My body tensed. My gaze darted over the dark terrain. I stepped away from him, pulling my hand free of his. “I’m glad we met too.”

“As I said in the car…” He smiled his slow, sexy grin. “You’re not like other girls. I like your honesty. No games.”

We kept walking, glancing at each other occasionally.

“I have to tell you something else,” he said. “Remember the first time we saw each other in church? It really upset me. You looked so much like my mother. Except your eyes.” He dropped his broad shoulders as if they hurt. Or maybe it was the memory.

So that’s why he’d looked away. Gotten all weirded out the first time I’d seen at church. Made total sense now. I shifted, and the scar branded on my forearm brushed against the silk sleeve. I covered the mark with my hand, trying to refocus on Trent and what he’d said. He was opening up about his mom. About her eyes. “Really? What color were hers?”

His eyes held a spark of indefinable emotion. “From the pictures I’ve seen they were blue.”

Blue. Twin sapphire glittering orbs.
His mother’s eyes
.
Probably not the best time to tell the guy I’m crushing on that his dead mother is haunting me.

Silence lengthened, stretching into awkwardness. I licked my lips. My left hand caressed the scar.

 
“What’s wrong? You’ve heard people talking about my mother, haven’t you?” He stopped walking and touched my shoulder. “Seriously, have you?”

“I’ve heard…things.”

He exhaled. “None of its true. Houses can’t be...evil. They’re just brick and wood and glass.”

I didn’t argue with him. I knew that tone. When people didn’t believe in the supernatural, they always had logical explanations for the unexplained.

Waves rushed the shore, quietly roaring. We sat on a piece of driftwood. My shoulders bowed complacently. Since we’d touched on a couple of sore spots, the tension between us lessened. Now if I could keep my big mouth from blowing the rest of the evening, I might actually enjoy myself.

Then I saw the shadows snaking over the dunes.