Nightwish (An Echoes of Eternity Novel Book 1) Read online

  St. Claire cleared his throat, probably to maintain some measure of self-respect. “I’m calling now…to confirm that the investment vehicles your grandmother had set in place have been liquidated. These funds have passed into a Wells Fargo account under your name.” I clicked refresh on the bank’s webpage, and the account now showed a zero balance. He then provided me with an account number as well as a username and password so I could access that account.

  “What about The Antique Boutique? What can you tell me about it?”

  “The…antique boutique? Is that a business your grandmother owned and operated? If so, I’m unfamiliar with it.”

  “I’m standing in it right now,” I said, confused by his unfamiliarity with Grams’s business. After all, if she had used First American Bank to finance her mortgage and trusted them with her investment accounts, why hadn’t she done the same with her small business?

  Regardless, I presumed that Grams didn’t want to torment St. Claire by continuing a business relationship with his bank after she had passed, so she’d chosen to transfer those funds to a different financial institution. After hanging up, I logged into the Wells Fargo account online and found that Grams had indeed left me $1.2 million dollars.

  A wave of euphoric dizziness overwhelmed me, making it difficult for me to catch my breath. I grasped onto the counter to remain stable and concentrated on my breathing, telling myself that although I wouldn’t need to find a job anytime soon, I’d still have to deal with Delphine and Alexis before attending to financial matters. That sobering thought relieved some of my vertigo. Nevertheless, one question remained: how had Grams acquired so much money? That amount would certainly allow me to live comfortably for quite some time. What had she invested in to earn so much money…when I’d never seen a single customer step into The Antique Boutique?

  Unable to answer that question, I set my attention on an enigma I hoped to unravel: The Book of Souls. I made my way across the shop and stepped into the room, but this time, euphoric sensations didn’t sweep across my skin. It simply felt like I’d walked through a partition with just a hint of resistance. Earlier, I hadn’t seen the room because Grams had been in somewhat decent health. Only after Zephora had taken control of Grams’s body had I noticed that the room existed. But now, after Grams had passed on, I presumed that the spell that Grams had placed on this room to remain hidden to all but her, had faded. Either that, or now that I’d inherited the shop I was privy to everything inside it. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel a tingling sensation upon entering the chamber; I was no longer a visitor but the proprietor.

  Everything looked as it had upon my first visit, although this time, a tall, wooden stand with a wide, flat surface appeared at the top, upon which lay a weathered brown box six inches wide and four inches deep. I stood in place, breathing heavily, unable to believe what stood before me: the holy grail of witchcraft. And Grams had given it to me: a person who knew nothing about her heritage, a “witch” who’d been too shocked to accept to embrace her ancestry and all that came with it. Although I didn’t want my mother or sister to look through its contents, I had to admit that they were more qualified to understand and put into practice the lessons inside that book.

  On the other hand, perhaps that was the very reason Grams had entrusted me with its knowledge. She’d raised me with a similar sense of morality with which she lived. I felt ill-equipped to open the box to…wait a minute! A book couldn’t fit inside that little box.

  Puzzled, I reached out, opened the box cover, and looked inside.

  It was empty.

  I expected a sound or a scent to filter out of the box, but...nothing happened.

  She had promised that owner could ask “it” three questions and get three answers. Well, I already had three: Who had taken the grimoire? Where was it? And how do I get it back? Not that I’d get any answers, since I could only distribute the grimoire, not consult it.

  I glanced around the room, hoping to find a similar box. After all, while I’d visited my family in my astral state, Delphine had stated that she knew the book existed, although she hadn’t provided any evidence to back up her claim. I didn’t see a second box anywhere. Perhaps the grimoire would only reveal itself to the person who was destined to own it, not the one who protected it. Given those constraints, it made sense that I couldn’t see The Book of Souls.

  A bell rang above the doorway, indicating that someone had entered the shop. Kendall stepped inside and looked around. “The light’s on but no one’s home?” She turned her back to me in order to walk behind the front counter. “I’m sure Brandon could relate,” she mumbled.

  I closed the box and chose that moment to exit the chamber, doing my best not to reveal my disappointment in not finding the grimoire. “Hey!”

  Kendall spun around and put a hand to her chest with fright. “Phew, you scared me.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I forgot to put on make-up today.”

  “I know you wanted some time alone, but I needed to tell you something.”

  “What?” I hoped it had nothing to do with Brandon hooking up with Alexis. “You look—”

  “Confused? Yeah, I am.” She stopped on the other end of the front counter. “The sword you had a while ago? It’s special.”

  The power that reverberated through my entire body told me that, but how had Kendall known?

  “Did you see the inscription on it?”

  “No.” I rushed behind the counter, where I’d laid the sword and picked it up. Once more, its undeniable sense of energy filled my veins, giving me the unmistakable sensation of undefeatable power. This time, however, I scanned the side of the sword and saw various letters that made no sense to me.”

  “It’s Norwegian,” Kendall said, shocked by whatever revelation she’d uncovered.

  She’d minored in linguistics, and I’d inquired a few times why she’d chosen to concentrate on languages that were either dead or rarely used. Each time, Kendall didn’t have an explanation other than, “It just feels right.” That answer always mystified me. It meant she’d spent time and energy on classes that, for the most part, didn’t have great value, given that few jobs demanded knowledge in other languages unless you worked in politics, the business world, or academia.

  “What does it say?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing really.”

  Kendall had a photographic memory. At first, I had her read questions and answers from cards in the game, Trivial Pursuit, then quizzed her afterwards, but she didn’t make one mistake. Then I decided to use a different tact. When the Hunger Games novel first came out, I asked her to read a paragraph from it. Afterwards, I highlighted the section and put it away. For one year. Then I pulled it out, reminded her of the scene, and asked her to recite the passage she’d read earlier that year. A second later, she nailed it! I never doubted her ability again after that.

  “You know what it says,” I said. “Tell me.”

  This time she didn’t hesitate. “The daughter shall replace the mother.”

  My mouth hung ajar. A dozen thoughts circled my head. Celestina had drawn my attention to the sword, but unless she knew Norwegian, which was unlikely, how would she have known what the sword said unless she had prophesized it? It verified that her visions were accurate, not that I had any reason to doubt her, but my education had taught me that validating sources was critical.

  “That’s talking about Delphine replacing Grams,” I said, feeling the full brunt of that response.

  “True, but why would it appear on a sword? Because you made it happen? I don’t think so. It seems like someone’s trying to make you feel guilty.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I feared that Kendall was right. It reminded me that Delphine could communicate with those behind the veil. “Zephora was watching, waiting.” Given her evil intentions, I found it plausible that she had waited until two witches of similar nature and like mind, such as Delphine and Alexis, worked alongside her to usher in a new type
of command structure. But if that was the case, their objective had failed, unless…

  Delphine’s gratitude after I’d killed Grams now hit me with full force: I’d like to thank you. I couldn’t have planned this any better.

  At the time, I thought Delphine was a cold-hearted bitch. Although those feelings hadn’t changed, I peeled back the layers of why she may have expressed herself that way: she wanted me to kill Grams because it would benefit her in some way. If she planned to team up with Zephora, Delphine wouldn’t have wanted me to render Grams’s body uninhabitable.

  That’s when the most likely conclusion struck: they both wanted me to end Grams’s life. Even more feasible? They set me up to do just that. In other words, they conspired to set events into motion that gave me no logical choice but to murder my grandmother, which they hoped would have the added benefit of sending me into the inevitable downward spiral of guilt and grief, which might explain the message on the sword. But that wouldn’t happen…because I wouldn’t let it.

  Nevertheless, why would they want to render me harmless? So they could follow through with whatever plans they had on their minds? If I were mentally incapacitated, I wouldn’t be a threat to their plans. But why would they fear me? I didn’t have much power.

  Delphine had used Zephora’s power to achieve her goals. Now that I had sent Zephora beyond the veil, where she didn’t have as much influence, Delphine could set her own agenda. But since I didn’t know much about her, I had no idea what she planned for the future.

  Because she primarily acted out of pure ambition, I presumed that she would do whatever was necessary to gain a stronghold of power. She wanted the grimoire, but what spells or enchantments did she seek? Just as important, what was Delphine willing to sacrifice to get what she wanted?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Could the phrase have been a trick,” I asked Kendall. “Could Celestina have added them to the sword?”

  “She’s what…thirteen-years old? What would she know about foreign languages?”

  “Nothing,” I said, “but I’ll never underestimate her. You heard Darius: she’s the most powerful witch since Zephora.” I deduced that Celestina had too much power, and that it might eventually corrupt her, destroy her…if she followed the rules and edicts set by her mother and grandmother. If I sensed that might happen, I wanted to be at her side to do everything I could to ensure that she didn’t reach that point.

  A different idea hit me: “What if Delphine and Alexis are manipulating her abilities?”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. But a teenager is impressionable,” I said, feeling my heart ache for the position her mother and grandmother had put her in. That notion fortified my position on that possibility. “I won’t let anything bad happen to her.”

  Kendall gave that some thought. “What if…Celestina set her own ideas in motion?”

  “In what way?”

  “If she’s so powerful, I’m sure she doesn’t want to hurt her mother or grandmother. Wouldn’t it make sense to contact you…to make sure that doesn’t happen? She trusts you, right? So why wouldn’t she reach out to you? To get you to see her side of things?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. You’re missing something. Delphine and Alexis have probably done some major planning. Maybe they’ve underestimated Celestina.”

  I agreed with that possibility. Celestina’s gifts, along with her age, persuaded me that she wouldn’t be easy to convince one way or the other. She seemed naïve but also too distrustful to fall for exaggerated claims by either her mother or grandmother, not to mention myself. Instinct told me that she would side with the person who cared for her the most, the person who took a personal interest in her, not as a witch but as a human being.

  “What are you going to do about it?” asked Kendall.

  I disregarded that question. “Grams told me about the sword. But until that moment, it didn’t seem any more special than anything else in this room.”

  Kendall spent a minute scanning the shop. “I’ve been here a hundred times, but I’ve never seen that sword. And if I saw an inscription on it, I would have mentioned it to you. That makes me think that someone added that inscription.”

  “Who else could have done it? Alexis? She looked tipsy earlier. She wasn’t with the sword long enough to cast a spell to add that phrase. My mother? She’s too filled with hatred. She wouldn’t spend the time to learn anything other than what serves her. Besides, from what I’ve noticed, she convinces others to do what she wants. That gives her the idea that her hands are clean, that she’s guiltless.”

  “And you think she’s guilty?” Kendall asked.

  “Hell, yeah! But even so, where’s the proof?” Delphine’s arrogance and nonchalance told me that she operated that way; she’d prefer to spend mental effort rather than physical or emotional exertion, whereas I presumed Alexis would have elected the opposite.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Kendall said. “Since Delphine can’t hurt you, do you think she’s set Alexis on you?”

  I smirked at the insinuation. “Does this have something to do with a certain drummer?”

  “No way,” she said, a little too defensively. “We’re not dating or anything. He can do what he wants.”

  “Really? Because when Alexis got a little—”

  “Why do you keep going on about this? We’re not dating. He’s never even kissed me. So what the hell?”

  I guessed Kendall’s anger stemmed from the truth of those assertions. But after years of avoiding the subject, I decided to stay on the topic. “You always hoped for more, didn’t you?”

  She shook her head, unwilling to voice her feelings.

  “Oh, so I’m just imagining things? You weren’t ticked that Alexis was hitting on Brandon?”

  “No way,” she said, waving her hands at me as though the idea was preposterous. “We’re close friends and band mates. But beyond that? There’s nothing there.”

  “So you’re not interested in him?” I saw the frustration on her face and decided to press the issue in a more subtle way. “There’s no chemistry?”

  “Of course, there’s chemistry.” But realizing how she’d responded with such bitterness, she chuckled, blowing off her previous statement. “Be honest with me: do we look like a couple? Do we talk like a couple?” A guarded grin touched her lips. “There’s no way.” Her smile faltered, looking less than satisfied by her admission.

  “Okay,” I said. “Got it. You and Brandon will never be a thing. It’s just friendship. Nothing more than that.”

  “Damn right,” she said, a little too complacently. “Why do you ask? Did you want us to be something more?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re not Fleetwood Mac. I don’t want strife within the band. That’ll kill whatever career we might have.”

  “It worked for Fleetwood Mac,” she said under her breath.

  I pretended not to hear that comment: Kendall wasn’t Stevie Nicks, and Brandon wasn’t Lindsey Buckingham. My band mates were very good musicians, but even if they were geniuses, I wouldn’t have wanted conflict to affect our potential. Nowadays, when few people read album reviews and everyone relied on word-of-mouth regarding concert performances, I didn’t need drama among our band members. I didn’t want melodrama to sink us before we became more than a local band. But it worked for Fleetwood Mac. And if you replaced romantic relationships with professional ones, it had also worked for The Beatles, Deep Purple, Aerosmith, Van Halen, Guns N’ Roses...

  “Okay, look,” I said. “We’re not Fleetwood Mac…that’s all I’m saying.” I met her gaze. “But we know what we are. And I think we’re damn good. So I don’t care what happens with you and Brandon. That’s your business, not mine. If you get together or if you don’t: doesn’t matter to me. What matters is the music. Understood?”

  “Got it,” she said, not meeting my gaze.

  But no matter how much I knew about both of them, I knew their relati
onship could never be platonic. Kendall wouldn’t be satisfied with “best friend” status forever, and Brandon was too interested in pushing intimacy to its breaking point to continually avoid Kendall’s affection for him. Eventually, they would get together; whenever they consummated their feelings, it wouldn’t be just sex. I knew the relationship would consume Kendall and torture Brandon, but regardless of my feelings, they were better together than apart, so I needed to focus on the band and ignore their combustive nature.

  Kendall’s phone chirped, indicating a text message. She glanced at it, and her eyes grew wide. “Something just came up. Gotta go. See you later!” She hurried out of the shop.

  Only a message from Brandon could have hastened such a swift departure. Would their drama ever end?

  “I hope I’m not intruding,” said a masculine voice from a few feet behind me.

  I swung around to see Darius. I hadn’t even heard him enter the shop. “Not at all,” I said, trying not to give away my surprise.

  He pointed at the sword. “That once belonged to me.” A long-lost grin took control of his expression. “A long time ago…”

  “…in a galaxy far, far away?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow…”

  I smiled at his cluelessness.

  “But now that the sword is in your possession,” he said, getting back on track, “I have one suggestion: don’t ever let it go.”

  “It’s the equivalent of a long knife. It can’t be that important.”

  “That sword is everything.” He set his eyes on mine. “You felt its power, its control. Do you really think you can ignore it forever?”

  “Is it anything like Thor’s hammer in the Marvel movies? Am I the only one who can lift it? Can it make me fly?”

  “Only winged creatures and aircraft can fly.”

  “What about rockets?”

  He gave me a peculiar look void of emotion.