Page 28 of Adepts and Alchemists

The silence in the room was as thick and unpleasant as summer humidity. It settled on my skin, suffocating me with every ticking sound from the grandfather clock. I actually jumped when Wanda cleared her throat.

“We should allow Indigo into the coven,” Maverick said. “Her power would strengthen all of us, and it’s the only way to get Lydia back. Not to mention that we need all the help we can get in order to go up against Murrain.”

“I agree,” Betanya said and shocked the hell out of the rest of us, me included.

I swallowed hard.

“Who is in favor of Indigo joining our coven?” Wanda asked the room.

Little by little, hands started to rise into the air, starting with Poppy and Finn. I had to admit I was completely shocked.

“It seems the coven has spoken,” Wanda said as she faced me. “I’ll let you join, Indigo, under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re going on a dream walk tonight, Indigo,” Wanda responded. “You’re going to show me everything. If you’re going to be in the coven, I need to fully know what you are and were capable of.” She paused. “Until that happens, this conversation is paused.”

The words hurt. The tone stung even more, like fresh-squeezed lime in my open wounds. The worst part was knowing I deserved the scorn. I couldn’t run from this. The only way out was forward.

“Alright. Brew the potion,” I answered. “It’s time for a trip down memory lane.”

Chapter Twelve

Anthony

Marty shut the bathroom door with more force than necessary, stalking over to my position with the air of a man who meant business.

He’d trimmed down quite a bit from the slightly paunchy middle-aged mundane I’d met at Jonathan Moses’ home several months ago. I hadn’t known who he was then or why Jonathan had opted for a magicless human. Little had I known that I was staring at one of the most powerful nulls that the country had ever seen.

Marty had his hands jammed uncomfortably in his jeans pockets. His shoulders were tight with tension. I couldn’t blame him. I was wound tighter than a clockspring at the moment, waiting for some kind of signal from Indigo that she’d arrived safely. The idea that she was lying in a ditch somewhere was unbearable.

The first words out of his mouth surprised me. I’d been expecting a terse request for updates, not an accusation.

“Do you think that stuff in the bathroom is funny?” he demanded, jerking his thumb over his shoulder by way of demonstration

“What stuff?” I asked, half-rising from my position on the couch.

This place didn’t look like a whole lot. The coven house had several bathrooms, but the least spectacular of them was reserved for guests. And that bathroom had been tucked discreetly to one side of the hall. I hadn’t been able to stomach much more than water since Indigo once again departed, so I hadn’t been inside the house much. Marty and Henner, on the other hand, seemed to be subsisting primarily on coffee, energy shots, and spite.

I’d felt perennially useless in this whole affair for a while now. Helpless to aid the woman I loved. Helpless to aid my mother in catching those who wanted to kill Indigo. I was stuck in this overdecorated sanctum-spelled building sitting safely on my ass, fielding phone calls. The long, grueling hours of silence were torture. I should have been me out there doing something,anythingto help.

The lines between Marty’s brows deepened, his expression growing uncharacteristically rigid with emotion as he stared me down.

“The stuff on the mirror. It’s not funny. I mean, I get it. It’s stressful and we all need to blow off steam, but writing that isn’t a joke. I don’t want any pranks until we’ve got everybody home safe. Whenever that might be.”

“Mirror?” I echoed, shaking my head. “What the spell are you talking about?”

“The words ‘help me’ written in the fogged-up glass?” Henner answered. “It wasn’t there when we went in a few minutes ago.” Then he paused. “And I didn’t write it, and neither did Marty. So, it had to have been you.”

“I didn’t,” I started, but Henner interrupted me.

“There are no ghosts in this house, Anthony. I do a monthly sweep to relocate anything that might pass by to the hotel at the edge of town.”

I shook my head, biting back the hysterical bark of laughter that wanted to escape me. A ghost hotel. I thought I’d seen it all in Jinx Junction. There were plenty of spirits loitering around the only inn on Main Street, but none of them were welcome guests. Theredefinitelywasn’t a place they could call their own. As far as I knew, Death himself had created the hotel to be a weigh station for spirits looking to pass on. The place expanded to accommodate new spirits and reconfigured into asmaller version of itself when ghosts concluded their unfinished business.

“I will never get used to this oddball Hollow,” I muttered. “But to answer your question, no I don’t think it’s funny and no, I didn’t write anything on the mirror. I’m not playing a joke on either of you. I haven’t been in the house for hours, let alone the bathroom. If someone wrote on the mirror, it wasn’t me.”

Marty’s face looked like it was in danger of cracking in two, judging by the deep ravines forming on his brow. “It wasn’t you? But... Then who the hell was it?”