Was I completely justified in my feelings? Of course. Did my mom’s death make me ache like a vital part of me had been ripped from my body? Definitely. But should I let it destroy me and everything I’d ever worked for? Hell no. A hero never bowed down to challenge.
And it was what my mom would have wanted.
I was done crying, alone and hopeless in my room. It was time to take my position as leader of this group. I needed to take my power back. Not just for me but for the rest of the Cleri. Because the shit was about to hit the fan and I wasn’t about to be covered in it.
Chapter Eleven
When I made it back downstairs, I noticed a group of about five sitting in the corner and became curious. A girl named Emory was in the middle of it all and she had the other kids listening to her with rapt attention. I had to admit, I didn’t know Emory very well at all. I think she went to even fewer meetings than I did and seemed to almost blend into her surroundings. Not to say she wasn’t pretty, though; with a full head of wavy red hair and eyes that appeared thoughtful, she was your average girl next door.
What I had noticed about her was that she wore a lot of flowery clothes: shirts with daisies on them, lilac-adorned jumpers, ballet flats topped with roses. She looked fresh off Little House on the Prairie. That is, if the prairie were run by witches, of course.
In the past, she’d seemed more of a listener than a talker, but here she was, commanding a small audience. Because of this, I decided it was about time I got to know her and some of the others a little better. After all, we were going to be squished together in this cabin for an indeterminate amount of time. And it was best to know all my allies.
I watched from a distance as Emory talked quietly to the others. Intrigued by what it was she could be saying, I eventually wandered over to where she sat.
“What we fail to remember in times like these is that the dead aren’t ever truly gone,” she was saying in a soft, soothing voice. “They’re around us all the time. Watching. Keeping us safe. Guiding us to the next right action. So see, in that respect, this isn’t the end. We just need to be open to hearing the messages they have for us and keeping their memories alive. Because it is by tapping in to their power that we honor them.”
I was surprised by what she was saying, but not because I didn’t believe her; I knew from my own dream of my mom that our parents weren’t completely gone. What took me aback was the fact that it was coming from this particular girl. Hers was more than just a faith in life after death. There was no doubt in my mind that Emory was speaking from experience.
“Is my dad here now? Can you see him?” a young girl asked. The hope in her voice was palpable and I had to slow my breathing to keep from getting upset.
Emory nodded. “Of course he’s here,” she said with a smile. The girl returned the grin and I could tell that it had been enough to make her feel better.
“Does he have a message for me?” she asked, her voice squeaking as she squirmed in her seat.
“He loves you and is very proud of you,” Emory answered, a faraway look on her face. “He wants you to be careful and says it’s important that you listen to everything Hadley says. She knows what she’s doing and she will get us through this.”
“Can you tell him I will? And that I love him?” the girl said in a voice barely above a whisper. She paused then, as if she was debating saying something else. Before she could finish though, Emory cut in.
“He knows that you’re sorry, Anna,” Emory said gently. “And he’s sorry too. He doesn’t want you to be sad about this. You’re his greatest creation.”
A single tear dropped down Anna’s face. I thought maybe her heart was breaking at first, but then I realized that what I was witnessing was a healing moment. Letting out a little sniffle, Anna got up and gave Emory a big hug and then headed out of the room and into the sunny yard beyond the door.
“Why don’t you guys go and get something to eat, head outside, and take it easy for a bit?” Emory suggested to the kids captivated in front of her.
I watched as the group dispersed, all looking a lot better off than they had since we’d broken the news to them. I felt major respect for this girl I barely knew, and vowed to take our time at the cabin to get to know the rest of my coven. I was starting to learn that nothing—or no one—was what they seemed.
“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.”