Slaying for Keeps: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Witches of Devil's Orchard Book 8) by Skye Sullivan

Author:Skye Sullivan [Sullivan, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-30T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

My choice? Is she serious? I look at her throne, ensconced in an ancient tree, perhaps the tree from whence all life began and to which all life will return. The sparkling lake. The lesser trees, serene and perfectly still, not a single branch or leaf twitching. Because there is no wind. No air. I’m in a total vacuum.

And my mother is right. Whatever magic is working to keep me conscious and alive right now, it will not last very long. I’m fading. I look at my hands and I can see the ground through them.

“Mother,” I say.

“Wait, child,” she says, not unkindly. “I must attend to one of the lost.”

I look around but don’t see anyone. There’s an orange smudge on the other side of the lake. Kitsune. A dreadful thought occurs to me. What if she can’t withstand this place? She’s smaller than me, less physical mass—

“Your familiar spirit will be fine,” my mother says. “Familiars already live with one paw in the spiritual realm. She will have quite a high tolerance for the effects of this place.”

“That’s good,” I say.

“Now be silent,” she says. “Be still.”

Out of the air, a presence materializes. At first, it appears to be a thin wisp of smoke, like someone stubbed out a cigarette, but there’s the smallest ember still burning. It grows larger, swirling about, until it’s shaped into a rough approximation of a human body. The limbs are wispy and too long; the face is constantly shifting its features.

It’s a spirit, concentrated into its purest form.

My mother stands and walks across the lake, her feet gently lighting on the surface, causing the tiniest of concentric ripples to spread, as if she weighs as much as a sparrow. The spirit moans, and it’s the most sorrowful thing I’ve ever heard. Every negative emotion of the human condition—pain, grief, guilt, loneliness, fear, regret, hatred, anger—all distilled into one loud wail of a lost soul.

As my mother approaches the spirit, the moaning is louder, the potency of the emotions increasing with the volume. It’s almost too much to bear. I want to cover my ears and run away screaming, then go home and curl up in bed with a blanket and watch cat videos online for an hour to cleanse my mental palate.

She extends her hand, a slender, graceful hand. Her skin is almost translucent from the darkness of this realm, like a cave animal who’s lost all its pigment. Her hand is pure warmth. It’s something to grab onto. A friend in the darkness. Care and comfort.

All the things a mother should be.

All the things I was denied.

But I realize now. Why it had to be.

She’s become Mother to the whole spirit realm. Every lost soul who craved comfort and peace, every tormented being cursed to roam the earth, unable to cross the rift. Every vengeful spirit bent on hate and violence.

They come to her.

And she calms them. Heals them. The same way I’ve seen Natalie soothe her children time and time again.

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