Tangled Echoes (Reconstructionist 2) Page 18
Declan’s pacing ramped up a notch, circling the room then switching back.
I lifted my palm to the magic I could still feel surrounding us. My personal shields were dampening it, but didn’t completely mute it.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yes.” Declan and Kett answered in unison.
“Does it feel … lonely to you?”
“No,” Declan said.
I locked my gaze to his. “Do you think … do you think the magic is missing us? Or Bluebell?”
“Wisteria,” Declan snarled, but then he made an effort to soften his tone. “I know you’re still shaking off the residual … feelings brought up from the reconstruction in the orchard, but now is not the time.”
“The brownie?” Kett asked.
“Yes …” I whispered, dragging my gaze away from Declan to meet the vampire’s questioning look.
I could still remember the lightness that Bluebell’s magic brought to any room she was in, whether I could see her — wearing one of the pristinely pressed dresses she had made out of antique tea towels — or not. I remembered how she used to sneak me my favorite treats when I was out of favor with Jasper, her overly large, rough hands brushing away the tears I struggled to hold at bay. The manor was empty without her presence. Dull and displaced.
Then like some deep well had broken open within me, the one memory I’d spent the last twelve years refusing to acknowledge over all others came pouring forth.
“I sacrificed our brownie …” I whispered. “Bluebell, our protector … the only reason we survived our childhoods … I sacrificed her to save the three of us.”
I had spent the twelve years since committing that terrible act trying to live a productive life. A good life. Trying to shift the balance. But I could still feel the deep black mark that day had left on my soul. A stain I couldn’t ever scrub away no matter how precisely I controlled my magic. No matter how many investigations I helped solve for the Convocation.
“Jasper killed Bluebell,” Declan said viciously. “For standing against him. For standing with us. It was the act of defying her sworn master that gave him any power over her at all.”
“But I took the magic released from her death.” I said it as matter-of-factly as I could. “I grabbed it before Jasper could break us with it. Before he could destroy the bond he’d wrought between us.”
“The power of three,” Kett said knowingly, as if I was only confirming the pieces of a puzzle he’d already assembled.
I continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, needing to purge the past in order to get off the chaise and get on with searching the house for clues. “Jasmine was incapacitated when we found her lashed to a stone altar that Jasper had somehow manifested from the earth underneath the house. The basement is dirt.”
“I know,” Kett said. “I checked while you were recuperating. No altar.”
I nodded, then took another sip of cool water, letting it slip soothingly down my throat before continuing. “Declan fell protecting Jasmine. It was just me …” Despite my resolve, my voice cracked. “I was all that stood between Jasper and … destroying everything we’d tried to build, every moment we’d hidden away from him and greedily savored. We’d just been trying to get Jasmine away from him, thinking he’d cool down. He was angry at Declan and me.”
“Wisteria.” Declan kneeled before me, so that our eyes were almost level. He didn’t touch me, though.
I wasn’t sure if he was pleading for me to stop talking or offering me solidarity. Either way, something about returning to the manor, about reliving the moment in the orchard over and over again, had loosened my tongue.
“We’d messed up his long-term plan,” I said, glancing at Kett sitting silently to my left. “Breaking a purity rule in complete ignorance of why he’d insisted on it in the first place.”
“He certainly had no issues with touching us himself,” Declan said, more angry than pained. “But Wisteria and I inadvertently cemented the bond between us.”
“With Jasmine tied to us both by blood and magic,” I added.
Declan touched my knee lightly, then withdrew his hand. “Effectively cutting the powermongering ringmaster out of the loop.”
“So he punished us, as he always did. By punishing Jasmine. It was an effective technique. For six years, at least.”
“Yeah.” Declan hacked out a pained laugh. “Great parenting.”
“But then he took it too far. I … I was certain he was going to kill her.”
“He was going to.”
“And he was too powerful,” I said. “He tore through whatever shield we held against him. Until I had nothing left, I was completely drained.”
“Of your personal reserves, perhaps,” Kett said, inserting his cool logic into the story and keeping me focused on the tale rather than on the emotions connected to it. Perhaps the ancient vampire knew a thing or two about purging the past. “Jasper never taught you how to pull magic from the bond?”
“Why would he?” Declan kept his gaze locked to mine even as he responded to Kett. “The power of three wasn’t for us.”
“We were to be his weapon,” I said. “Whatever spell he planned to use Jasmine for might have been a way to manipulate the bond, letting him control Declan and me again. But we’ll never know.”
I took another steadying sip of water, then carefully placed the glass down on a side table. “Jasmine and Declan were insensible on the ground behind me. But I couldn’t hold Jasper off any longer. He strode toward me, knife in one hand, ready to knock me aside … to drag Jasmine to the altar again. But Bluebell appeared between us. She defied her master multiple times that day.”
“We wouldn’t have been able to get into the damn basement without her help,” Declan murmured quietly, as if he was worried about derailing the story I was weaving.
“In his anger at being interrupted, at being challenged, Jasper stabbed Bluebell with the knife he’d prepped for whatever spell he was planning to work. She fell before me. I caught her, and I tried to pull her out of the way, to staunch the wound. But … he was still coming for me, working magic I didn’t completely understand. Bluebell died. I could feel her magic underneath my hands. And before he could harness it for himself, I took it. I took the power released. I took her life essence.”
I pressed my hands over my eyes, whispering through the pain and sorrow constricting my throat. “And I broke Jasper with it. I broke him in two. Literally.”
Gently, Declan peeled my hands away from my face. But before he could speak, I grasped his wrists firmly. “Then I let everyone believe it was you who’d put Jasper in a wheelchair. I didn’t lie. I just didn’t challenge their first assumptions.”
“What was the alternative?” Declan’s voice was edged with wry mockery. “My life?”
“I thought so at the time. Maybe Grey would have stepped up. And Jasmine certainly would have fought for you. Though if she hadn’t woken soon enough … she would never have forgiven me if anything happened to you.”
“Being sent away to school was a better alternative,” he said.
I laughed, pained. “Better than death?”
“Yes. Even though I didn’t see Jasmine for two years … and you for twelve.”
“I should have killed him,” I whispered. “Then maybe we wouldn’t be here.”
“It’s difficult to kill with magic as your sole weapon,” Kett said. “Even with the life essence of the brownie supporting you, your will, your resolve, at sixteen wouldn’t have been enough. Stabbing him through the heart after he was down would have been more effective. Or, if you couldn’t get through his breastbone, then a slice across the femoral artery in each thigh.”
Declan snorted. “Good to know.”
I sighed, scrubbing my hands across my face fiercely. “Well … they say confession is good for the soul.”
Declan grimaced, eyeing Kett by my side. “I’m not sure that applies when your confessor is a vampire.”
The aforementio
ned vampire chuckled, apparently finding amusement in Declan’s words. Which was good, since the other option was most likely ripping off his head for insolence.
“And you, Bubba,” I said.
“Yeah, well.” Declan straightened, then stepped away from me. “I witnessed most of it. But I … appreciate having the fine details filled in.”
I nodded, tucking the blanket behind me as I stood, then smoothed out my clothing. “We should recheck the basement.”
“While it contains many intriguing pockets of power,” Kett said, “I believe I would know if any of them contained Jasmine. And given your … earlier difficulties, I doubt you want to cast a reconstruction.”
“You are extremely correct. I’d rather not.”
“However, the secondary house on the property and the three bedrooms on the top floor are shut to me. The grounds are littered with what feel like magical traps, concentrated around the outbuildings. The wards prevent me from getting near enough to look through the windows of the manor, but the cottage appears empty. There was no sign of anyone having lived there in years. I might be able to go through the walls in either case, of course. But I doubt the coven would appreciate me tearing the house down.”
Declan laughed. “Always a good backup plan, though.”
Kett gifted him with a ghost of a smile.
“That’s the caretaker’s cottage,” Declan continued. “Standard wards. I doubt Jasper has reinforced them in years, same as the house. The pockets of magic are likely traps left over from our training.”
I nodded, tentatively opening my witch senses to the magic coating every inch of the estate. “Agreed. The manor feels empty. Underutilized. Is it possible that Jasper doesn’t live here at all?”
Declan shrugged, masterfully expressing his never-ending contempt of our uncle’s actions and his disdain over his whereabouts in a single gesture.
“We’ll double-check the cottage before we leave the grounds,” I said. “The bedrooms are likely still sealed with timed wards. Implemented by Jasper in our fourteenth year, to … restrict access at certain times of the day.”
Declan glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall opposite the fireplace. “Two forty. We’d be at lessons, not allowed back in our rooms until just before dinner at six.”
“We can’t just continually wander around the estate looking for clues that might lead back to Jasmine. I can cast a mobile reconstruction. If there’s any fresh residual, we’ll pick it up quickly.”
“Absolutely not,” Declan said. “You just put yourself out for three hours after witnessing a stupid memory about a damn rabbit.”
“It was never about the rabbit,” I said, trying to cover my shock at having lost such a large portion of the day. “And I most likely passed out from expending too much magic too quickly.”
Declan threw his hands up in exasperation. “My point is that there’s way worse … garbage to witness, or to relive, in this house.”
“I’ll set my candles and will stand outside the circle. It was a momentary lapse in judgement.”
“While I’d dearly love to witness another round of sibling banter,” Kett said, “I have other leads, off the property, to follow up on.”
“We aren’t siblings,” Declan growled.
“From Jasmine’s case notes?” I asked, ignoring Kett’s obvious attempt to goad us.
He pulled out and referenced his phone. “New credit card charges. A car rental, what appears to be a drugstore, and a few more I’d like to check.”
My stomach squelched. “Vampires don’t typically need aspirin … or Band-Aids.”
“No. They don’t.”
“What about the hotel?” Declan asked.
Kett shook his head. “They returned for Wisteria’s note, obviously. But as far as I could assess, they aren’t staying there. These vampires would need to be underground from sunrise to sunset.”
“Like in a graveyard? Really?”
“Anywhere under the earth would suffice.”
“Even the one who calls himself Yale?” I asked.
“It would be highly unlikely that he could walk in the sunlight.”
“But not impossible,” Declan said.
Kett didn’t answer. But then, I had the feeling he was catering to me at that moment by answering any questions at all.
“Have you heard from Rose?” I asked.
Declan shifted impatiently. “She’s convening a coven meeting. They’re gathered at Fairchild Park to intercept the sunset message the vampire promised, and to formulate a response. None of her other leads have turned up anything. Apparently, no one else has noticed four vampires wandering around Litchfield. Without the hotel reconstruction, they probably wouldn’t believe us at all.”
“It would be unwise for the coven to get involved at this stage,” Kett said.
“Which is why we’re exploring other avenues, vampire,” Declan said testily. “And trying to mitigate the risk to Jasmine.”
Kett pinned Declan with his gaze, and for a brief moment, I thought the vampire might have ensnared him. Then Declan glanced away. Not as if he was ceding ground, but more likely because he’d remembered to not look Kett in the eye.
“We’ll be fine here,” I said. “We’ll text if we leave the property.”
“You might need to grant me entrance again.”
I nodded. “The wards are centuries old.”
“So am I.” Kett grinned slyly, as if he might be flirting with me. “It is not their age that makes them impressive. It’s the accumulated magic they contain.”
Then he disappeared.
Declan swore under his breath. “Sneaky bastard.”
“Jasmine said the same thing.”
“Before or after she started sleeping with him?”
I laughed quietly. “I believe it was one of the many draws.”
Declan shook his head dubiously. “No other guy goes around attempting to impress girls with how old he is.”
“He’s not trying to woo me,” I said. “Not that way, at least.”
“What other way is there?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, then couldn’t figure out how to even begin to explain anything about Kett or the contract with the Conclave. I sighed. “I’ll tell the both of you when we find Jasmine. I promise.”
Declan narrowed his eyes at me, then nodded begrudgingly.
Exceedingly aware that we didn’t have much time, and that the manor might well have been a dead end, I retrieved my bag, then crossed through the parlor in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll start by the back door.”
Declan insisted on maintaining contact with me the entire time as I moved my reconstruction circle through each room of the manor in turn. This included the games room, the library, and nine of the twelve bedrooms, scanning each one in search of newer layers of residual magic.
Despite the fact that I stood outside that carefully contained magic, I was grateful for the extra anchor to the present that Declan provided. Brushing away layer upon layer of the echoes of our childhoods would have been emotionally straining without his hand on my back, carefully placed in a neutral spot between my shoulder blades on top of my thin navy-blue sweater.
We progressed painfully slowly, pausing to field text messages from Kett and Rose that seemed to contain more questions than new information. Simply killing time before sunset. On the coven’s part, at least.
Though the magic contained within the manor was extensive, most of the residual I picked up consisted of brief flashes of younger versions of Jasmine, Declan, and me, along with moments of Bluebell. The brownie was clothed in her ruffled antique-tea-towel dresses as she bustled around the kitchen or cleaned the house.
As Kett had already indicated, we couldn’t enter three of the bedrooms on the uppermost floor — our bedrooms, which pointed to the timed wards still being in place. But other than those unknowns, we ate up another forty-five minutes of our tight timeline and didn’t uncover a single current event.
“Nothing that left a residual,” Declan said grimly. “For all we know, Jasper’s figured out a way to mask his signature.”
I glanced back at him. “That’s … that should be impossible. I’d see the masking spell at least.”
Declan nodded doubtfully.
“So … the upstairs bedrooms,” I said. “We could call —”
“No.”
“Declan, Dahlia would be able to open them without —”
“I don’t give a crap about damaging the house,” he snarled. “But I’m not going to admit that we need her to break the wards for us. She doesn’t even believe Jasmine’s in trouble.”
“She’ll have seen the reconstruction by now.”
“No.”
I nodded, letting the subject drop. We were close to an hour away from the bedroom wards opening on their own. But I knew that hour would bring us closer to sunset than I wanted to be without a possible connection between Jasper and Yale — and between my uncle and Jasmine’s disappearance.
“We still have the parlor,” I said, making my way down the back staircase that led through to the kitchen. We’d ascended by way of the hand-carved marble entranceway staircase, hoping that the hall and the upper bedrooms might yield something. There hadn’t been any residual significant enough to notice when we were in the parlor the first time, though. “Then we should check some of the outbuildings before we go. I’d like to see the caretaker’s cottage.”
“This is a waste of time,” Declan said. “If Jasper is involved, he’s kept his scheming off the property, or masked it somehow.”
I paused in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing him. “I can search without you if you’re done with this. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head, pacing past me into the dining room, then the parlor. I followed.
“I don’t normally do this part …” Declan cast his hand about helplessly, echoing my own insecurities at leading an investigation of this magnitude. “I just get brought in when things have gone sideways.”
“We’re trying to avoid that part.” I tempered my tone while I carefully folded the blanket I’d left crumpled on the green chaise. I could understand his frustration. In fact, that frustration was why I was so intent on using the magic I had at my disposal even if it came to nothing. Because that was a better option than simply melting down while I waited to hear from the rogue vampires who had kidnapped the most important person in my life.