Fated Series: Bewitched

Chapter 9

Under the pretense of "getting some air," Kaida followed her sisters outside through a different kitchen door than they'd entered and to an eight-foot border hedge that had a gate. Once through to the other side, she stopped dead, her lungs backing up.

It was the meadow clearing. The one she'd dreamed about all her life. After everything she'd encountered today, she shouldn't be surprised, but shock faltered her steps. To the right was the cliff ledge, towering thirty stories above the Atlantic. Just like in her dreams, long grass was teeming with buttercups and bluebells. To the left, a large hill rose, blocking part of the view to town from the elevation highpoint.

Unlike in her dreams, though, ahead was a cemetery that hugged the other cliff ledge. She couldn't make out much from this distance, but it had a wrought-iron fence and a massive angel statue in the center. Flush against the hedge border was a small stone cottage with a thatched roof. The very one shown to her for the first time in sleep last night.

"Is everything all right?"

Kaida glanced at Ceara, then the clearing again. "I've dreamed about this place since I was a girl."

Fiona nodded as if she'd known that tidbit. "Aunt Mara casted a spell when you were taken off the island so you would be called back here one day."

More manipulation. "A spell," Kaida said through a laugh. "Of course. What was I thinking?" She pressed a hand to her forehead. If this place, this spot from her dreams was real, what else was, too? Could...Brady be a living, breathing person, as well?

While sunlight filtered through a thin cloud cover, they walked to the cliffs and silently gazed at the water. The three of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder like a beacon calling the white-capped waves to shore. An elemental sense of rightness filled her, tightened her throat.

"We have premonitions also. You're not the only one." Ceara smiled serenely as if trying to calm Kaida. "We have other gifts, but they vary from one to another. Your visions seem to be of the present and appear to you in dreams. Fiona's are of the past and she gets them by meditating. Mine are of the future and come whenever they like, most often from touching an object."

Kaida thought that over, dissected the words. It was hard to argue the statement when she was standing smack in the middle of proof. She had dreamed about this place and it was real. In the kitchen, both her sisters had shown her their...powers. Thus, Kaida's anomalies of moving things with her mind, especially water, didn't seem so crazy now. Or, well, less crazy.

Witches. Actual witches. And she came from a long line of them.

She'd been pulled toward religion and Wiccan practices in her studies, had based her PhD on it, had taught college courses and gave lectures on the matter. Ceara had been correct in what she'd said in the kitchen. By all appearances, every thought and action and dream had been leading Kaida here. To family. To her history.

"What are your dreams like? What do you see?"

Kaida thought over Ceara's question and debated her phrasing. She'd never discussed her dreams with anyone before. "They started when I was young. Eight or so. They're always the same and look just like this, except the cottage and cemetery are absent. I used to get them infrequently, but as I got older, they increased."

Seemingly interested, Ceara nodded for Kaida to continue.

"That's about it, really. Sometimes I look out at sea, sometimes I just wander around. I know I'm dreaming when it happens, and there's an overwhelming sense of...security while I'm here."

"Ever see anyone?"

"No." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and judging by the lift in Ceara's brows, her sister suspected Kaida wasn't being truthful. Curses and powers aside, she wasn't ready or willing to discuss Brady. Not yet. "I'm not sure I understood where I was or the significance, just that I liked it here. Last night was the first time I saw her, though. A woman. She had an Irish accent, long red hair, and wore peasant clothes. She told me it was time for me to return and, in a blink, you two were present, kneeling beside the cottage. I didn't see your faces, but it was definitely you two."

"Celeste." Fiona's eyes widened and she exchanged a look with Ceara. "She's never appeared to us before."

"Maybe she thought Kaida needed guidance."

Wait. Were they trying to tell her, have her believe, that the Celeste Galloway, the very one who'd supposedly cursed two prominent families and had been dead for centuries, was the woman in Kaida's dream?

"Our distant cousins Aunt Mara sent you to were supposed to teach you about our lineage before you came into your powers." Fiona sighed, part weary, all frustration. "Obviously, they didn't. They don't have the gift, but I can't believe they left you hanging in the wind that way."

Kaida didn't know how she felt about that, either. A heads up would've been nice. "I had no knowledge of any of this or you until my parents died six months ago. Their attorney gave me a letter from our mother, which said nothing about magick."

Then again, how would one phrase such a thing? Dear Daughter I Abandoned, By the way, you're a witch...

"Were they good to you, at least?" Ceara's concerned gaze trained on the ocean. "You were treated well, I hope. Loved?"

"Yes." Kaida cleared her throat. There had been an errant disconnect between her and her parents and, most of the time, she'd been left to her own devices, but they'd cared about her. "Yes, they were good to me."

"I'm glad." Ceara faced Kaida. "We'll teach you. If you're willing to learn, we'll help you hone your craft."

What other choice was there? Kaida had been struggling since she was a teenager to control the anomalies, to seek answers to her many questions. Regardless of how insane this all seemed, these women were family. Her sisters. In honesty, that's what she'd craved all her life. Connection. To be a part of something. Belonging.

If she'd known it would land her in a Harry Potter book, she might not have longed so hard. Reserved as she tried to be, though, excitement bubbled inside her and crackled under her skin.

And her instincts, once she'd learned to follow them, had never led her astray. Every cell in her body was telling her she could trust her new sisters, trust that this was the right path.

"Where do we start?"

Fiona's grin split her face. "At the beginning. Come on."

They walked across the meadow and to the cemetery gate. Some of the headstones appeared to date back almost two hundred years, but as they wove through the grave markers, they stopped in front of a recent one.

Meagan Rose Galloway

May the air carry your spirit gently. May the fire release your soul. May the water cleanse you clean of pain and sorrow and suffering. May the earth receive you. May the wheel turn again and bring you to rebirth.

Kaida stared at the stone, awash in unexpected emotion. She'd never known her birth mother, but the loss was staggering even still. The woman who'd given Kaida life was dead, and she'd never get the opportunity to sit down with her mom and chat over tea, to catch up on their pasts, or have that awkward first meeting after being separated so long.

The date of death was particularly gutting. "She died a year to the day after I was born."

"Yes." Ceara drew a deep breath. "She developed a blood clot in her lungs, but we think it was a broken heart. Sending you away tore her apart."

Ceara was two years older than Kaida and Fiona only one. How could they remember? And it had been her mother's choice to put Kaida up for adoption, regardless of the reasons. At any time, her mom could've changed her mind. But she hadn't, and here they were.

"Galloway women don't tend to live long, fruitful lives." Fiona glanced at the sky, her face sullen. "Cursed, we are." She shook her head. "Come, we'll show you the true beginning and explain."

Kaida knew about the spell Celeste had cast three centuries before but, up until now, it had been mere myth. Folklore. Best she could recall, it had been about searching and never finding true love. Had it truly been a curse, and one strong enough to carry over three-hundred years? She glanced at graves as they strode by. Most of them were women bearing the Galloway name, and all had died before they'd turned forty.

As they paused in front of the giant statue she'd spotted from the hedge, she realized it wasn't an angel, but a goddess. Easily ten feet tall, it was solid white marble. The woman's eyes were closed as if in prayer, her face a mask of serenity. Wild long strands of hair swirled around her head, frozen for all time in an unseen wind. A loose robe fell to her ankles, and in one outstretched palm was a sphere. The base held a carved trinity knot.

"This is where the pyre was erected, isn't it? Where they..."

"Burned Celeste for being a witch." Fiona, body angry and stiff, nodded. "Sometimes, I don't know what to be pissed off about morewhat they did to her or what she did in retaliation."

Kaida stared at the statue again, trying to imagine how scared her ancestor must've been. "A curse only gains credence if it's given power, if it's believed."

A dry laugh, and Fiona sighed. "Spoken like a woman not raised within the craft. Denial will get you nowhere, sister."

"Fiona," Ceara warned.

"No, she needs to hear it." Fiona eyed Kaida, arms defiantly crossed. "Look around you. Not one Galloway woman has lived to see her fiftieth birthday, and not a one has found lasting love. Three centuries with no sons. Flip that over to the Meaths, and you have the same pattern. Celeste was one of the most powerful witches the world has known. She was of the original line granted powers. Through the generations, her kin has inherited pieces of her gift, but never all."

She strode forward, getting in Kaida's face. "We are the first to be born of the three she spoke of. The Meaths have their three. And it's been three hundred years since the spell was cast. Notice the pattern? Three is of importance in our world. We are it, sister. We are the ones chosen to end it or the cycle will remain for all eternity."

No pressure or anything. Kaida wanted to laugh, to claim reality with both hands, but Fiona had a point. "Mara is older than fifty."

"Mara is the exception. She is our protector. If we don't see this through, she is damned to remain here, as well. She'll never have peace."

Kaida blinked, wondering what that meant. "I don't understand."

Ceara set a hand on Fiona's arm. "Not now. She just arrived. Don't overwhelm her." She focused on Kaida. "What's she's trying to say is, we are part of a greater purpose. This is our destiny, your destiny, to come together. Let's show you the cottage. Perhaps we can better explain there."

She guided Kaida out of the cemetery and toward the small structure, Fiona at their heels. Once there, Ceara turned an ancient knob to a thick wooden door and stepped aside.

Hesitant, Kaida walked over the threshold. The small space, but one room, smelled of hay from a straw pallet in the corner. Her shoes thunked the aged floorboards and dust motes plumed, catching the muted light. To her right was a simple table, straight ahead a stone hearth. Other than that, there was nothing.

Then, her gaze landed on a painting over the thick mantel, and her breath caught. The woman who'd come into her dreams last night was in the likeness. Long red coils, similar to Ceara's, trailed over her ample breasts, and she bore the peasant gown Kaida had seen her wearing. In her arms was a swaddled baby with a trinity knot branded on its inner wrist. Next to the pair was a woman of the same age and coloring, but her hair was much shorter, her face fuller.

Kaida stepped closer, goosebumps skating up her arms. The second woman was Mara. A much younger version, but Mara just the same. There was no mistaking those eyes and smile. And the painting was old. Very old. She was no expert, but she'd taken some art history classes as part of her degree, and the oils used, along with the dated style of brush strokes, pegged the piece at roughly two hundred years old. Even the frame was aged.

"Aunt Mara painted that shortly after she turned her sixty years. She wanted a rendition for future generations while the faces were fresh in her mind." Ceara moved beside Kaida. "The cottage is exactly as it was the night Celeste was killed. A protection spell guards it from falling to the elements or changing with time."

"That's Mara in the painting, which is impossible because it's at least two centuries old."

"Nothing is impossible." Ceara studied the painting. "Celeste cursed Aunt Mara, too. In the pretense of the three needing a guide, Mara was to stop maturing once she hit sixty, and would forever watch over the Galloway women until the spell was broken."

"Impossible," Kaida said again. Even if the tale were to be believed, certainly people would notice Mara from pictures and illustrations, wondering why she'd been around so long without aging. Dying.

"Aunt Mara used glamour spells to change her appearance." Fiona shrugged. "I figured you were wondering about details. Family can see her true features, but not others. When you were born, she stopped casting glamours and looks now as she did then."

Hold it. Just...hold it. Powers, curses, spells, and premonition dreams? She was taking all that rather well, if Kaida did say so herself. But...immortality? Come on! No to the no.

Ceara must've sensed Kaida needed a topic change because she pointed to the straw pallet. "Mara and Celeste settled here as young women, but they were born in Ireland. Right over there, the first Galloway in the States was birthed. Hope, aptly named. That would be the baby Celeste is holding in the painting."

"And less than a month later, Celeste was murdered." Fiona sighed, gaze on the table. "She prepared the infamous spell there by candlelight. According to our aunt, Celeste hid items in another plane for when the three completed the tasks she set forth. They'll appear once we finish, which is why Galloways have protected the cottage all this time."

Kaida blinked, unmoving. Forget Harry Potter. She'd stepped into a jacked up version of The Twilight Zone. She picked one item amid all the crazy, and zeroed in on that. "What tasks?"

"No one knows for certain, dear."

She whirled to face Mara, standing in the doorway. White waves fell to her shoulders and sad blue eyes met Kaida's.

"My sister was very mysterious about what the three were supposed to do, exactly. But I am positive the solution to generations of heartbreak begins with you." Mara's Irish brogue thickened. "It started here, and it shall end here. One way or another."

An inhale, and she smiled, the gesture forced. "I know what you're thinking, I do. Your thoughts are loud again." She winked. "I look pretty good for being three-hundred, don't I?"