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After a quick shower, I toweled off, reaching for my clothes, when I heard my aunt’s voice on the other side of the door. “Cassie, you in there?”
“Be right out,” I called.
“You look much better,” she observed as I exited, running a brush through my hair.
“I feel like a new me.” Lightheaded, I still struggled a bit with my balance and control of my limbs. It could have been much worse after Jadis’s attack. The residual power in my body didn’t have a thing to do with her, though.
‘Thanks to me, pet. Maybe you should tell Gwen.’
Nope. I ignored the vampire.
His eyes turned red briefly in response.
Aunt Gwen tugged me into a quick hug, a grim smile on her face as we separated. “We have work to do. Are you feeling up to it?”
“Yes, no time like the present.”
“I agree, sweetheart. We need clarity.” Aunt Gwen led us downstairs and began to gather the ingredients for her secret Psychic Tea. Rose petals, thyme, yarrow root, cinnamon, and cloves were gathered in a little metal infuser inside the Japanese-style cast iron teapot. It was my favorite and had been in the family for years.
Once the water was steaming, Aunt Gwen poured the hot liquid into the pot while the spices and leaves began to steep before she filled three ceramic mugs. Each of the mugs was painted with witch hats, and our names scrawled across the front. A gift from Gypsy last Christmas. Glancing at my name, I smiled.
“By the power of three, so let it be.”
Aunt Gwen, Gypsy, and I all sipped the tea until it was gone and then closed our eyes.
It never took long for visions to emerge. Sometimes they were solid and insistent. Others were more like intuitions or simple nudges in the right direction. A witch depended upon these basics. Our auras lined up our purposeful intent with the correct choice or choices for our future. We sought to walk a specific path that aligned with our ancestors.
Any competent witch sought the guidance of her coven. In essence, all thirteen families were part of one large coven. But some of the younger generations aligned with other witches that complemented their gifts and formed their own mini covens. That was what Gypsy had done. All witches in Mystic Hallows answered to the elders of the Salem bloodline. Aunt Gwen and Willow held positions on the Coven Council.
Such was the way of the witch.
The effects of the tea soaked into my consciousness.
Within minutes, I began to see images, and my thoughts focused. But something was different than our usual experience with the tea leaves. Everything grew vivid and bright, full of color, and incredibly clear. There was no distortion or mirage. No barrier erected between my mind and the scene that began to form.
In these visions, I often walked a path or stood at a crossroads that helped me understand the importance of the future. It was a typical commune as I sought guidance. Not this time. A sense of urgency propelled me forward . . .
A fully rounded moon hung low in the sky, her glow an amber shade that seemed to bleed into a dark crimson. The color oozed downward as droplets of blood leaked into the cluttered expanse, forming a puddle on the ground below.
Dark clouds hovered around the cylindrical shape, but as my eyes wandered lower, I saw a horrifying and disturbing sight.
The clouds formed a face.
To be precise, the visage of a skull appeared and hovered in the fog that rolled in, moving above the carved headstones in an abandoned cemetery. Snakes coiled and slithered in and out of the eye sockets of the skull as if they swam in a sea of blood.
Two familiar auras joined my own.
Gypsy and my Aunt Gwen stood on either side, to my left and right. We gazed up at the moon and joined hands—the power of three.
I knew instantly that the Howe bloodline was in danger as the skull morphed, the face snarling. Rage trembled the earth beneath our feet as the entity lunged forward–heading straight for me. I knew what the evil being wanted. My soul. My destruction.
I screamed as Aunt Gwen, and Gypsy strengthened their shields and aligned with mine. Our magic combined into an impenetrable barrier. We were bombarded with attacks as a dark cloud descended over us.
A powerful omen.
Sinking to my knees, I glared defiantly up at the skull and declared with venom as my voice spoke without falter. “Free from the three, so mote it be.”
I separated from my aunt and Gypsy, leaving them behind to confront my enemy . . .
