Life's A Witch

Chapter Eleven

"Emory, hey. That was amazing," I said to her once the others were out of earshot. "You are so great with those kids; I think you really made them feel better. How did you do that?"

Emory gave me a shy smile before casting her eyes downward and starting to play with the bracelet adorning her wrist. A string of baby's breath from the looks of it. I couldn't be sure, but the flowers might have been real. "I don't know. I've always sort of been able to do that. I just figured it might help them deal if they knew their parents were okay. Was I wrong?"

She was clearly worried that I might be upset, but that was the last thing on my mind. I was impressed with her maturity and intrigued with these natural powers she seemed to have. "Of course not!" I said soothingly. "In fact, if I'd known you could do that, I would've let you break the news to everyone."

Emory looked up at me, relief washing across her face. I took her by the hand and led her over to the couch. We sat down, folding our legs underneath us like old girlfriends. "Can I ask you something?" She nodded. "Were you telling the truth back there? Can you see them? Our parents, I mean—are they really here?"

Her eyes got big and she looked around to see if the others were listening to our conversation. "Yeah. But I can't see them in the same way that I can see you guys. It's like the shadow of them. Like they're on the periphery, you know?"

"And they talk to you?" I asked, amazed by what I was hearing. It made me think back to my conversation with my mom. I'd been so confused by the encounter and felt totally drained the next morning. I couldn't imagine doing that on a daily basis. At the same time, how incredible would it be to be able to communicate with the dead on a regular basis? And with those other than your relatives?

"Sort of. They're not as loud as you and I; it's more like they're whispering to me most of the time," she explained, her face scrunching up as she tried to convey what she was thinking. "I have to really concentrate in order to get what they're trying to say."

"Does anyone else know you can do this?" I asked.

"Just my parents and a few of the elder Cleri," Emory said. "Or they did, at least. People sort of start to look at you weird when you tell them that you see dead people. It's not nearly as cool as they make it out to be on TV. It's like a one-way ticket to the loony bin."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Think of who you're talking to. If anyone would understand having abilities that no one else can wrap their head around, it would be me," I said with an easy smile. "This is amazing, Emory. It's what makes you special, and whether or not others see it that way, it's an incredible power. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous."

The expression on Emory's face bloomed into pride. It made me think back to the first time I divulged to another magically inclined person—in my case, my parents—about my additional powers of persuasion. When I realized I wasn't going to be judged for it, it was like the hole in my heart, which had always been full of fear, was filled up with confidence and acceptance. In other words, the experience had changed my life.

And now in a way, I was giving that gift to Emory.

"Would you mind if I sent some of the other kids to talk to you if they need to?" I asked. "I have a feeling you might be able to help them in a way that none of the rest of us can."

I could feel gratitude emanating from her as if it were my own. Who knows, it may have been a combination of what we were both feeling. But it didn't really matter. What mattered was that our coven had someone who could be a conduit for the other side. And that was an invaluable resource, now that we no longer had access to the elders.

I got up from the couch and smoothed down my cashmere pants, while balancing on some dangerously high wedges. Seeing Emory's powers in action had kind of boggled my mind and I needed to think about how this could factor into what we'd be doing here at the cabin. I started to walk away, but Emory called me back.

"Hadley? There's one more thing," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. "Your mom's here too, and she's being really loud about something. She says it's important that you know this."

My heart started to race and I looked around as if I would suddenly be able to see her standing with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to pay attention. I hadn't expected any more messages from my mom, since I'd had the dream the day before. I figured she'd said all she needed to then.

Or maybe I just hadn't been listening well enough.

"She says that we have to start training. That we're not ready for what's coming," Emory said seriously. Her eyes shifted to a place just over my right shoulder, which caused me to look back, too. All I saw was a wall full of family photos surrounding the words painted in gold: "Breathe. Relax. Live." It had been one of my dad's favorite sayings.

I turned back to Emory, fully believing that my mom was in the cabin with us. My eyes began to well, but I forced the tears down. I could cry later.

"Hadley, she says that you can't trust everyone. That there are people you'll think are good, but they aren't. She says sometimes you have to listen to your head and not to your heart. Never underestimate your enemies, she says. It will be our downfall."

"Wait, who can't I trust?" I asked her, whispering now in case others walked in. If members of our coven had ulterior motives, I couldn't risk having them know we knew about them.

Emory squinted and then began to wildly look all around us. Finally she settled back on my face. "I'm sorry. She's gone."

The depth of my sadness upon hearing this surprised me. It wasn't like I was even talking to her or seeing her myself, but just knowing that she'd been there and then was gone was like losing her all over again.

Emory gave me a second to collect myself and then spoke gently. "Hadley? What did she mean? Is there an enemy among the Cleri?"

I shook my head slowly, chilled to the bone. "I'm not sure," I said, my head swimming and my fears giving way to anger. "But God help them if there is."