say bye to my friends and look around the courtyard for Tabatha. As High Priestess of the coven, she’s been busy going around and talking to everyone as well as leading any rituals tonight. I took a picture of the photograph of my mother before I got changed to leave, and I have to ask her if she recognizes her. I might not get a chance to come back to the Covenstead before Lucas and I leave for Florida, and I want to enjoy every single second of this trip.
I don’t want to spend our whole vacation being anxious to get back to Thorne Hill just so I can mostly likely be disappointed that she has no idea who the woman in the photograph is.
Mentally calling my familiars, I go inside the gathering hall and find Tabatha sitting at a crowded table filled with some of the coven’s eldest members. It’s customary to say goodbye, so I walk through the hall, eyeing an untouched Shepherd's Pie on one of the tables. If it weren't cold, I’d grab it and eat it.
“Callie, my darling,” Tabatha greets me, standing and pulling me in for a hug. “Taking off already?”
“Yeah, I’m tired.”
Tabatha smiles, knowing the reason I’m tired and also knowing I’m not making my pregnancy public just yet. “Rest is important. How are you otherwise?”
“So much better. Thank you.”
“Good. It saved me,” she says, referencing the potion she made to get rid of my morning sickness.
“Can I talk to you for a quick second?”
“Of course.” Concern flickers over Tabatha’s face for a second. “Excuse me,” she says to everyone sitting at the table. We walk out in the hall, and the music and laughter slowly fade. “Did something happen in the woods? I was informed about the scrappers.”
“Maybe, the kids swear they were attacked by a werewolf, but I was actually going to ask you something.” I pull my phone out of the deep pocket on the inside of my cloak. “Michael left this for me. It’s my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“It has to be her. Look.” I hand her the phone.
“Oh!” Tabatha’s eyes widen when she gazes down at the photo, looking almost shocked. “I see the resemblance.” She looks at me and then back at the photo. “You got your green eyes from her.”
I work hard from getting emotional. “I did. This photo is a little over twenty-six years old assuming that’s me in there. Do you recognize her or anything about the photo?”
Tabatha zooms in on the photo, looking at the necklace my mother is wearing. It’s the triple-goddess symbol, widely used among witches. It’s the unofficial symbol of our coven.
“No,” she tells me, handing the phone back. “I’ve never seen her before.”
“I figured it was a long shot.”
Tabatha forces a smile. “I should get back to the feast. Take care, my darling girl.” She pulls me in for a quick hug and turns on her heel, long scarlet dress whooshing around her feet. That was a little odd, and I can’t shake the feeling that Tabatha isn’t telling me the whole truth.
But…why?
Chapter 18
The house is dark when I emerge from the woods. Freya and Pandora shadow ahead, bounding up onto the porch. Binx stays by me, winding between my legs. We always move in perfectly harmony, and I’ve never once tripped over him. I pause, looking at the house, and wonder what Lucas is doing in the dark. Though it’s not like he needs the light.
I pick up Binx and he rubs his head on me, purring. Holding him like a baby, I kiss the top of his head and walk the rest of the way to the house. I’m tired and feeling almost winded from the walk through the woods. I really need to get back into a good workout routine. My life is a bit too unpredictable for routines, unfortunately.
Using magic, I open the back door and step into the house. I can smell the fire going in the fireplace before I see the soft glow of the flames. Smiling, I untie my cloak and hang it on the back of a kitchen chair.
“Lucas?” I call softly.
“Hello, my love.” He comes in through the living room, handsome face shadowed by the dark. My heart swells in my chest at the sight of him, and every nerve in my body comes alive when he pulls me into his arms, dipping me back for a kiss.
“I missed you,” I tell him, sliding my arm down his chest. “Is that pathetic?”
“Maybe