Chapter 24: Wraith

Wraith and her sept-sisters had finished the evening meal; the rich aroma of herb-roasted chicken and fresh-baked bread still lingered in the warm kitchen. A cup of steaming tea in hand—the fragrant jasmine blend that Katherine insisted calmed the nerves—she sat with Katherine and Elizabeth at the ancient oak table discussing their imminent move to Emory. The flickering hearth fire cast dancing shadows across their faces, highlighting the worry lines that had begun to etch themselves around their eyes after recent events. The children were in the television room watching a Disney movie, their occasional bursts of laughter a welcome counterpoint to the serious conversation unfolding in the kitchen.

Katrinka’s scream—raw and primal—shattered the peaceful evening. Her heartbroken sobbing echoed down the hallway before she came running into the kitchen, her small feet slapping against the wooden floors. Her face was ashen, eyes wide with terror, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“She’s gone. Auntie Niamh is gone. I can’t feel her in my head anymore.” The words tumbled out between ragged breaths, her small body trembling violently.

In a flash, Elizabeth was kneeling by her side, her midnight-blue robe pooling around her as she grasped the child’s shoulders. “What do you mean, Little Kat?” Her voice was gentle but urgent; her green eyes searched the girl’s face.

Katrinka’s lips trembled, and she clutched her temple with shaking fingers. “I can feel everyone all cozy in my head ever since we were in that bad place when you sang that pretty song over us. Now I can’t feel Auntie Niamh. She’s gone from my head.” Fresh tears welled up and spilled down her flushed cheeks.

Wraith felt a coldness spread through her, like winter frost creeping across a windowpane. Of all her new sisters, she felt closest to Niamh. While the others wore their humanity like a comfortable cloak, Niamh was different—a panther shifter, not a witch. Like her, a solitary hunter, not human; her emotional makeup was closer to Wraith’s than the others. They understood the predator’s mindset, the comfort of darkness, the thrill of the hunt.

“What does that mean? Is she...” Wraith glanced at the children, their innocent faces now twisted with worry. The unspoken question hung in the air like a shroud.

“Not necessarily,” Elizabeth said tonelessly, though the sudden pallor of her skin belied her calm words. “Let me think.” She got up and paced, her soft boots making no sound on the wooden floors. Her fingers twisted nervously in her silver-streaked hair as she muttered incantations under her breath.

Katherine watched her pace, her own hands white-knuckled. The antique clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the silence. A thought struck her. “Lizzy, do you know a seeking spell?”

Elizabeth stopped abruptly, her robe swirling around her ankles. “Of course, it’s a simple sixth-order incantation. That won’t help us here, though. If Katrinka can’t find her, she is probably gone.” The word “gone” hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken meaning.

“True enough, but if she’s dead, it will locate her remains.” Katherine’s pragmatism was one of her defining traits. “I have a hunch she may be in another realm.” Her eyes took on a faraway look, as if she were trying to peer through the veils between worlds.

Elizabeth brightened, a spark of hope igniting in her eyes. “Girls, quickly go up to Niamh’s room and bring me her sweater, the hunter green one. It’s her favorite. Also, the silver hairbrush we gave her last Christmas.”

Katrinka and Charlie dashed out to fetch the items, their footsteps thundering up the old wooden staircase.

Nevermore, Elizabeth’s big raven, sensed his mistress’s intent and flew into the kitchen from its perch by the garden doorway, its iridescent black feathers catching the firelight as it settled on the back of her chair. Its obsidian eyes watched the unfolding scene with an intelligence far beyond that of an ordinary bird. Her cat, Buttons—a massive Maine Coon with fur the color of smoke—appeared in the kitchen and observed the preparations with amber eyes, its tail twitching with interest.

After swiftly chalking a pentagram around the table’s perimeter, the white lines precise and now glowing faintly, Elisabeth went to the coat closet and emerged with a small black leather chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl sigils. The lock clicked open at her touch, recognizing its owner. She opened it and removed eight blue candles, their wax infused with crushed lapis lazuli that made them shimmer even before being lit. Swiftly, she set them on the oaken kitchen table, the largest oriented to magnetic north with the aid of a tiny brass compass. The rest she placed at the cardinal and intercardinal points of the compass with practiced precision. She lit each one with a whispered word and a flick of her fingers, Next she spoke a wyrd that sounded bell-like and lingered above the table, shimmering in the air like heat waves.

The girls arrived breathless with the items requested, their cheeks flushed with excitement, and handed them to Katherine. Meanwhile, Elisabeth had unfolded and oriented a Washington State Highway Map, its creases worn from use, the paper emanating a faint aura of its own after years in a witch’s household. Next, she set a battered, tarnished silver bowl on top of it. Katherine laid out the sweater—its wool still carrying the faint scent of pine and sage that was uniquely Niamh’s—and the hairbrush, several strands of Niamh’s blond hair still caught in its bristles. She filled the bowl to the rim with water from a crystal decanter. The liquid caught the candlelight and reflected it around the room.

“The seeking spell requires balance,” Elisabeth lectured to the wide-eyed girls, her teacher’s instinct taking over even in a crisis. Her slim fingers moved with certainty as she methodically shredded herbs into a small copper bowl. “Rosemary for remembrance, lavender for clarity, sage for wisdom.” Each herb released its aroma as it was crushed, filling the kitchen with a sweet earthy scent.

She placed a blackened sliver of ash wood—a tree known for its connections to other realms—in the middle of the silver bowl and sprinkled the herbs into the water while Katherine added three drops of a sweet-smelling purple oil from a small crystal vial.