Dreamwalkers - Corinne Davis Page 0,51

a long piece of twine. When she returns, she loops it around our wrists in a figure eight. Quiet words escape her mouth.

“What language are you speaking?” Zoë asks her.

“Galician. Focus your attention on who you want to connect with.”

Eliza rubs her finger in the mixture. She swipes it once across the back of Zoë’s hand and once across the back of mine. She rubs her finger once again in the mixture and then covers the twine with it. “Close your eyes,” she commands. We obey.

She methodically speaks words in a language I have never heard while holding our hands in hers. My body suddenly feels very heavy and stiff. The light that hinted at my eyelids is gone. I am in complete darkness. Panic threatens to step in, but it is quickly subdued without reason. All sensation has vanished from my body. The twine that is tightly roped around my wrist feels as though it has disappeared. The chair underneath me is gone; even my own clothing doesn’t register as resting against my skin.

A vacant sound thrums at my ears. It starts as a vibration then progresses into what sounds like a screaming moan. I want to reach for my ears and cover them but my arms barely feel like they exist. My throat burns with dryness. It suddenly occurs to me that I am the one screaming. I embarrassedly silence myself.

A fire flares in my belly. It slowly intensifies before erupting into an unbearable volcano. Suddenly, my body is met with the force of a shattering crash and a scream from someone who isn’t me. “Emma?”

“Zoë? What is this? Where are we?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s some sort of limbo. I don’t know what we do though.”

“I’m scared, Zoë.”

The air shifts. “Zoë?”

“Mom?”

The space around us fills with light and Zoë’s mother materializes from the deep darkness. She reaches out for Zoë and rushes to her, wrapping her tightly in her arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine. We both are.”

“Why did you summon me?”

“I needed to talk to you. This is all so much, so fast. I have no one to answer all of my questions.”

“I know, Zoë. I wish it could have been different but this is the only way we could keep the both of you safe.”

“I found Eliza’s name in the grimoire.”

“Are you with her now? Did she connect you with me?”

“Yes.”

“I assume she told you who she is.”

“You mean the fact that she’s my sister that I never knew existed? Yeah, she told me that.”

“Zoë, it’s more than you can understand at this moment, but we had to keep you apart. It was the only way to keep you and Emma safe.”

“You mean to keep Emma safe.”

“Excuse me?”

Zoë takes a deep breath. I can feel the question building inside of her. “Has my whole life—the reason for my existence—been to protect Emma?”

“Zoë, no of course not. How could you think that?”

“I read the journals, I heard what Mr. Owens told us—you linked me to her and yourself to me to protect us. I’m three months younger than Emma. Was my birth necessary to keep you bonded to Emma to protect her?”

“Zoë, your birth was a complete and utter surprise.”

“What?”

“Eliza was who we planned on binding to Emma. She was sixteen the year Emma was born. Her magic had developed very much by that point in her life. She was erratic and uncontrollable. She was casting spells with so little effort. They were almost frenzied. She broke every binding spell we placed on her. I couldn’t keep myself linked to her. One night, while we were sleeping, she cast a fertility spell on your father and I. Six weeks later we discovered we were expecting you.

“Eliza’s magic grew more and more chaotic—she had no limits and none of us could contain her. She even managed to turn off your grandmother’s preservation spell and accelerate her aging. Because of that, we lost her before you were born.

“When you were three and she was nineteen we made the decision to send Eliza to Louisiana to live with your father’s family. They were much more experienced with chaotic, powerful magic. She lived with them for thirteen years and they taught her to control her magic.”

Zoë stands dumbfounded in front of her mother. “So is that why you’ve always said that Dad doesn’t speak with his family?”

“Yes, we had to keep you away from her. We had to keep her isolated. It wasn’t what we wanted, but we

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