Wiccan, A Witchy Young Adult Paranormal Romance (31 page)

I was taken aback. “I’m
sorry.”

Her features smoothed somewhat and when
she spoke again her voice was more pleasant, almost far
away.

“
I would’ve recognized you
anywhere, Maya,” she said.

“
Maya?”

“
Yes, that’s what your name
was,” she said, still watching her easel, making long swipes with
her brush.

“
Maya,” I repeated, trying
it out. I liked Mercy better.

“
He’s found you, hasn’t he?”
Still, she didn’t look at me.

“
Who?”

“
Your father.”

“
I- I don’t
know.”

“
That’s why you’re
here.”

I saw Grayson step up beside me and I
reached back and grabbed his wrist. He said nothing, just
stopped.

“
Why do you say
that?”

“
I was afraid he’d find
you,” she said, her brow crumpling in sadness. Her brush flicked
across the canvas almost violently now.

“
Why?”

“
Because you’re eighteen and
you must be ready by now.”

An ominous thread of fear wove its way
down my spine.

“
What does that
mean?”

“
Did no one ever tell you
why I brought you to the hospital?”

“
They didn’t-
they—”

“
They didn’t tell you
because they all thought I was crazy.”

She stopped painting and looked at the
canvas, tilting her head first one way and then the other. A
calmness came over her face as if put there by magic.

“
When I met Robert, he was
like a movie star. He was tall and handsome. He’d only been out of
college a few years, but he was already making his way up the
ladder at his firm. He was in marketing you see,” she said, her
lips curved in a nostalgic smile.

“
Robert is my father’s
name?”

“
Yes. He was smart and funny
and I was young and stupid. Not a good combination,” she admitted
in a self-deprecating way. “Our relationship was like fireworks. It
was fast and passionate. He was only in town for some kind of
meeting when we first met, but after that, he kept coming back.
Eventually he got an apartment near where I lived. I made a lot of
assumptions, wrong assumptions, but I didn’t really care to know
all the details of his life as long as I got to see him. I never
thought to ask if he was married. I assumed I’d have picked up on
something like that, but…”

I didn’t know what to say, so I
remained silent, listening attentively.

“
I was so in love with him
that by the time I found out, I didn’t care. I just wanted whatever
little part of himself he was willing to give me. Turns out the
little part he wanted to give me was you,” she said with a
smile.

“
I was thrilled when I found
out. And he was wonderful throughout the pregnancy until about the
seventh month. That’s when I first noticed some strange things. It
wasn’t too long after that I found out what he was doing to
me.”

“
What?” I prompted when she
didn’t continue. “What was he doing to you?”

“
It started with him wanting
me to drink this special juice. He said he’d read it was good for
the baby. The problem was that it tasted terrible and it’d make me
sick as a dog every time I drank it. But he kept on about that
drink. Eventually it got to the point where if I threw it up, he’d
make me drink more until I kept enough of it down.”

“
What was it?”

“
I didn’t know it at the
time, but it was blood mixed with a few other organic ingredients.
I had a Wiccan friend that lived in my building and she knew about
all that stuff. She told me what it was, but I didn’t believe
her.”

“
But why would he want you
to drink blood?”

“
For you, Maya. He was
preparing you.”

“
For what?”

“
For greatness,” she said
mystically. “Or so he used to say. But now I know it was something
much darker than that.

“
More and more, as I got
closer to term, I’d find him hovering over me at night, chanting
quietly or rubbing oil on my stomach. He’d bring strange little
sachets and tiny bags of things and put them all around the house,
make me promise not to move them. He even drew some kind of symbol
on the floor underneath my bed. At the time, I just thought he was
one of those spiritually divine kinds, like a mystic or something.
You know, the ones that do all those weird cleansing rituals and
things like that.”

When she didn’t continue right away, I
spoke. “But he wasn’t?”

“
Oh, no. He was a man who
knew very much what he was doing to me, what he was doing to you.
You see, he and his wife couldn’t have children, though I didn’t
know that at the time. Now I know that’s all he wanted me
for.”

“
For me?”

“
For you,” she
nodded.

“
So what exactly are you
trying to say about my father?”

“
He’s Wiccan,” she said
gravely.

“
Wiccan? What’s
that?”

“
It’s the name for people
who use witchcraft.”

My mind was awhirl with
confusion and disbelief. “So,” I said, trying to understand
and
believe
what
she was telling me. “You’re saying my father is a…a
witch?”

“
Witch, warlock, whatever
they call themselves, but yes. And he’s very, very
powerful.”

My head was spinning. “Are you
sure?”

“
I’m almost certain. If not
then he’s—” She stopped herself, as if she didn’t dare speak the
words.

“
He’s what?”

She hesitated for an instant before she
said, “If he’s not Wiccan then he’s the devil himself.”

A cold flush spread through me, like
icy fingers running through my veins. “So what does that mean for
me? What does that mean I am?”

“
His child. His heir,” she
said then, with a smile as cold as my blood, “His perfect creation.
The daughter of a great evil. Only he knows what you’re capable of,
what kinds of plans he has for you.”

I could feel panic threatening as this
woman’s words swirled around inside my head, inside my heart. “But-
but what does he want with me? And why is he killing all these
girls?”

“
A sacrifice? A ritual? I
don’t know, Maya. Only he does. But whatever it is, it’s not good.
It’s to bring about something dark, something unnatural. Something
evil.”

My temper was on the rise and the
person I wanted to lash out at wasn’t here, so I chose the next
best thing.

“
How could you let this
happen? How could you let him do this to me?”

I might as well have slapped her right
across her face. “I didn’t know until it was too late. I tried to
get you away from him. When you were born, he took you away from
me. It took me almost two weeks, but I finally tracked him down in
Arville. That’s where he lived with his wife, I guess.

“
He’d made markings all over
you. And there was blood all over your mouth, where he’d been
making you drink that stuff, too. But you were just a baby,” she
cried. “Just a baby.

“
I lied and told him that
I’d called the cops and that they were on their way. I told him
that if he didn’t let me leave with you, I’d press charges. I had
to tear you away from him, literally, but he finally let you go. He
said he’d find you one way or the other. He said there was no place
I could hide you, that he’d find you. He said that you were bonded
and that no one could keep you apart.” Her voice dropped to a tiny
child-like whisper. “And he was right.”

I watched my mother draw in on herself.
She squatted to the ground and curled over her knees, her eyes
darting around her in paranoia. My father had ruined her life, too.
She just hadn’t known it at the time.

She reached inside her sweater and
pulled out a charm that hung on a long necklace. She rubbed it
between her thumb and forefinger and it seemed to soothe her. For
several minutes, as she made her way back from whatever frightening
memories she was reliving, she cowered there on the floor,
crouching in a shaft of sunshine behind her easel.

When finally some clarity returned to
her eyes, she stood slowly to her feet. She looked at me then at
Grayson then back to me. Almost absently, she rubbed the charm and
then looked down at it.

“
My friend, Deena, gave me
this. She said it would keep him from finding me and that if he
did, he couldn’t hurt me with his mind.” She laughed and it was a
surprised sound. “I guess she was right. It’s worked all these
years.”

Reaching beneath her hair, my mother
lifted the chain over her head and held the charm in her
hand.

“
Before you go, let me give
you something.” She reached for a thick roll of canvas that sat in
the corner near her. “I painted it in water colors so it would be
dry for you today. It’s part of what I had to prepare for
you.”

She handed me the painting and I took
it.

“
Thank you,” I said,
attempting a tiny smile.

When I started to unroll it, she stayed
my hand. “Not here. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want it to be
the last thing I see.”

I dropped my hand and just held the
canvas. “The last thing you see? What do you mean?”

My mother smiled and it sent a chill
through me. “I’ve hidden long enough. You’re going to need this
much more than I do,” she said, handing me the charm.

“
But I—”

“
Take it, Maya,” she
pleaded, grabbing my hand and laying the charm in my palm then
folding my fingers over it. “I mean Mercy. You need it much more
than I do. I’ve lived my life, but you,” she said, stroking my
cheek with her fingertips. “Your life has just begun.” She looked
beyond me to Grayson and she smiled at him, too. “Take care of her.
She’s a very special girl. She’s worth the lives of hundreds if
need be, just keep her away from him. She’s very powerful. Or at
least she will be. Just don’t let him get her. He’ll turn
her.”

She shook my hand where it held the
necklace. “Don’t take it off,” she warned. She closed her eyes for
an instant, as if she was readying herself for something
unpleasant. When she opened them, there was a strange peace in
their amber depths that I hadn’t seen since we’d
arrived.

“
I always loved you, Maya,
and I tried to do what was best for you.” She began stepping away
from me, backing into the shaft of sun she’d been painting in. Her
face contorted as if she was in pain. “He’ll make me burn for what
I’ve done, but you’re worth it,” she said, wincing in agony. “You
always were.”

She bent down and rubbed at her legs,
her fingers fluttering over her soft cotton pants. She whimpered
and her legs quaked. She straightened for a moment before she
doubled over with a groan and wrapped her arms around her
stomach.

I could see that she wanted to stand,
as if it was her last act of rebellion. I watched her struggle to
straighten, to overcome the pain, but she couldn’t. Whatever she
was feeling was so intense, it kept doubling her over.

When finally she was able to stand
nearly erect, a small smile of victory flashed across her lips
before it melted into a silent scream. She glanced down at her
arms, as if she’d felt something on them and then she began to rub
them as she’d done her legs.

“
Don’t watch, Maya. Leave.
Now!” she said urgently.

But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to
that spot where I stood helplessly by and watched as she moaned and
writhed, like her skin was too painful to wear. She pulled her
sweater down over one shoulder and I could see that the skin of her
chest and shoulder was turning black.

She rubbed at her face and neck and
slowly, like her flesh was cooking, all her skin began to char. She
shook her head back and forth as if to rid it of the invisible
flames that were consuming her, but it made no
difference.

Her hair started to blacken and curl on
the ends. And then, with a blood curdling scream, she started to
smoke.

The scream alerted the orderlies, but
they couldn’t get to her fast enough. With an eerie whoosh, her
clothes caught fire.

When the orderlies made it to my
mother, one of them grabbed a blanket and threw it over her and the
other tackled her to the ground.

Grayson pulled me out of the way, but I
couldn’t turn my eyes away. When it seemed the orderlies had put
out the fire, the one rolled off her and removed the blanket. She
immediately caught fire again. They slapped at her, at the flames,
but they wouldn’t be extinguished.

When the orange fingers began to
consume the blanket, the orderlies backed away. One ran and pulled
a fire extinguisher from the wall and came back to cover her body
in a dusty spray of dry chemical.

As the particles settled, every eye in
the room was focused on my mother. We all watched her blackened
body, waiting to see if the flames would return. But they didn’t.
When she lay, still and silent, for several minutes without
catching fire, one of the orderlies called quietly on his radio for
an ambulance as the other began to clear patients out of the
room.