Shadow of Magick

By Lucy True and Jea Hawkins

Cadence Gray is the destined guardian of the town of Ravenna.

 

There's only one problem: she doesn't want the job.

 

Unfortunately, it's hers whether she wants it or not, because an age-old spell binds her to the town, as it did with each generation of Gray Witch before her. Not only that, but an ancient family enemy threatens everything she holds dear. Yet it seems like he is the only person with the power to give her what she wants: a normal life.

 

Now trapped among the freaks of Ravenna, obligated to them by centuries of magickal tradition, Cady must decide if she is with them or against them. It doesn't help that all the bridges she burned seem to lead her right back to Quinn Hovey, a woman whose love for Cady has remained steadfast through the years.

 

Is it possible that everything Cady ever wanted is in Ravenna, after all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Persephone Press
• Release date: May 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386068082

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Aletter edged in black .

Who even does that anymore?

I look at it for maybe the tenth or twentieth or hundredth time before placing it atop my clothes and shutting the suitcase, jiggling the reluctant latches into place. It’s a long drive from Massachusetts to Nebraska, but the only way to go for someone like me who loathes airplanes and airports. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m memorizing the letter or using it as a talisman against ill fortune.

Miss Cadence Gray...

They got my name wrong. Gray was my mother’s maiden name, but it’s not mine. I’ve never accepted it as mine.

We regret to inform you...

I close my eyes.

Your mother succumbed...

I take a deep breath.

If it is any consolation...

I open my eyes.

We look forward to seeing you.

I grasp the handle of my suitcase, mindful that I cannot say the same, that my only consolation is in knowing this will be the last time I ever have to visit that place. Like it or not, I have to live with myself and the choices I made. Like it or not, the time has come to face them.

Like it or not, the time has come to go home.

CHAPTER ONE

Cadence glanced up at the familiar sign and tightened her hands around the steering wheel. There was no erasing the grimace from her face as she drove past the enormous blue and yellow sign: Ravenna. Nebraska’s Hometown Hideaway. Est. 1886.

Her hazel-green eyes narrowed and focused back down on the road, a ribbon of asphalt gray winding across the golden prairie. A shaft of sunlight danced through the driver’s side window, giving a shine to her copper-tinted hair. For a brief moment, she appreciated the warm light that told her she was in the Midwest. It was small comfort, though.

Coming back to her hometown was not her idea of a good time and the magick liked to remind her of that. It crackled through her. Cady hated being a human live wire even more than she hated visiting Nebraska.

Not that it would have made any difference if her mother died in Massachusetts, of course. Either way, it hurt. Either way, she wasn’t prepared to deal with the loss. The sudden homecoming simply added a layer of inconvenience, which in turn made her feel guilty for feeling inconvenienced.

What Cady couldn’t understand was why her mother remained here in the first place. She supposed it was a family thing. Her mother’s family had lived in Ravenna for generations. In fact, her mother’s refusal to leave the town for more than a long weekend, let alone to move to the east coast, was one of the reasons Cady’s father had divorced her almost twenty years ago. The divorce had been a rather odd one, with the judge giving Philip Chilton custody of his daughter. Phil had more of a family support system back in Massachusetts, while all of Cady’s mother’s family was deceased. Cady also suspected her mother’s... differences had played into the judge’s decision, though her father never said a word about it.

Like her mother, Cady was an only child. Neither Harmony Gray nor Phil had remarried after their divorce. Phil ran his own construction company back on Cape Cod, while Cady had majored in journalism at Boston University. Working for The Cape Cod Gazette wasn’t exactly glamorous, but she loved her assignments. It was also nice to choose her environment as her mood dictated: the varied city amenities of Boston, the seasonal activities available throughout New England’s mountain ranges, colorful beach boardwalks up and down the coast, or any of the towns in the region that boasted rich history and timeless architecture. From quiet coffee houses to thrilling sports events, Cady felt like she had everything at her fingertips.

Returning to Ravenna was something she hated doing, whether her mother was living or not. It was simply in the middle of nowhere. During one particularly snarky argument with her mother, Cady had referred to it as an intellectual and cultural void, comparable only to Utah.

However, like a dutiful daughter, she came back year after year to spend the Winter Solstice, which was also her birthday, with her mother. It meant something to her mother to have her there for the celebration of the longest night. Harmony wanted to pass on the family tradition of witchcraft to a reluctant Cady.

The problem, as Cady saw it, was the kinds of powers she had already marked her as a freak. She didn’t need that kind of trouble, especially since she suspected most of what her mother talked about was just a load of bull. Move along, nothing to see here, she often told herself when strange things happened around her. And happen they did, though she tried to pretend she didn’t see things that didn’t belong or shouldn’t happen. Like the occasional fairy she might glimpse out of the corner of her eye or the time when her emotions over a break-up resulted in every light in her home dimming to the point that she had to replace all the lightbulbs.

In Ravenna, though, the other children had never troubled her despite her oddness. In fact, they stayed away from her, almost as if they were in awe of who her mother was. The way people looked at her sometimes was reverential, and she hated it. It was a lonely life in a small town, surrounded by people who treated her like she was not just different, but special.

When she had gone to Massachusetts with her father and started fourth grade there, life had gotten much better. Children didn’t know who or what she was, so she made friends and had a blissfully normal life for the most part. She wished she could have gotten her mother to leave Ravenna too – to come live near a larger city with better hospitals, heart specialists who could have given her the treatment she needed for her arrhythmia and other health problems.

Instead, she’d chosen to die here, to become part of this fertile, but lonely land forever.

Towns, villages, and cities emerged from the horizon as if by magic when one traversed Nebraska, especially when driving east to west. Cornfields contained civilization neatly within compact little squares of houses and shops, the buildings built only up to two stories in deference to the potential for devastating, tornadic storms.

Cady sighed as she drove along the familiar streets of Ravenna. She supposed an outsider might find the Midwestern town charming in its faded simplicity, but she only felt trapped every time she set foot in its manicured boundaries. Seriously, Mom, why did you do this to me?

After checking for oncoming traffic, she turned into the driveway of the funeral home. She would never understand what had kept her mother in this town from birth to death. Now that Cady was here, all she wanted to do was sort through her mother’s belongings, dispose of them appropriately, then put the house on the market, and go back to Massachusetts. She could let the realtor and lawyer handle everything after this weekend, and conduct all her business via email, fax, and Fedex. The sooner she got out of town, the better.

Getting out of her silver Volkswagen Golf, she smoothed her olive green t-shirt and noticed how the humidity made her jeans cling to her legs. It could get much more humid than even the east coast, something she had forgotten since she limited her Nebraska visits to winter. Not that winter was preferable to summer in the Midwest, but she was less likely to feel that tug – that urge to remain if the landscape was cold and desolate, bereft of its innate life magick. Shaking the thought from her mind, she entered Hovey and Sons Funeral Home. The blast of cool air made her feel instantly cleaner.

She stood in the lobby, looking around for an office. There was only one viewing room. The town – a village, really – did not need any more than that.

It was strange to think her mother was somewhere in this building, lifeless and cold.

She took a few tentative steps further in and said, Hello? It wasn’t her first time in a funeral home, but she doubted anyone ever felt comfortable in one, except perhaps the morticians themselves. She shuffled her feet against the dark blue carpet and called out again. Is anyone here?

Oh my word, if it isn’t Cadence Gray. A tall, dignified-looking man in a button-down shirt and dark gray slacks stepped around a corner and approached her, hand extended. I’m Tom Hovey, the director. Well, this is rather out of season for your usual visit, isn’t it? I’m just so sorry we have to see you under these circumstances.

I prefer Chilton instead of Gray, and you can just call me Cady, she answered, shaking his hand. And, yes, it’s strange to be here in the summer. I forgot how humid it gets here. What a day.

Well, if you don’t mind my saying, you wouldn’t forget these things if you came to visit more often. There was a twinkle in Tom’s blue eyes and Cady glanced up at his hair. It was dark brown and graying at the temples. Yes, he said, seeing where her gaze had strayed, we’ve all gotten a bit older since you lived here as a child. Of course, I haven’t seen you around during your visits, but we all heard about them from your mother and through the local grapevine. She was never happier than when you came to see her for your birthday. She really wanted you to visit more often.

A memory jolted Cady out of the fresh swell of guilt that threatened to overcome her. Oh, right, you’re Quinn Hovey’s father.

That’s right. Did you know Quinn has come back home as well?

She shrugged and shook her head, realizing the gesture probably looked awkward, if not downright rude. Cady knew she was scowling too, but could not stop herself. If this was the first response to her homecoming – to speak to her as if she should care about the residents of Ravenna – she wasn’t looking forward to speaking with other people around town.

Home from where? she finally asked, aware it was rather belated to ask the question.

College, of course. Tom went on as if oblivious to her apparent discomfort. She graduated from veterinary school in Kansas last year and started a practice here in town. She’s still very popular, especially with your schoolmates.

Eager to change the subject, Cady said, So if Quinn became a veterinarian, I guess this won’t remain in the family. She had no idea why she bothered to make such an observation. It wasn’t like the future of the village mattered to her. As far as she was concerned, she was here for business – not reminiscences or a guilt trip over her persistent absence.

Actually it will. This little funeral parlor has been passed down from father to son in our family for almost one hundred fifty years now. My son, Matt, completed his studies in mortuary science just last summer, so he’s joined me here.

I didn’t know there was a school for that sort of thing. Cady repressed a shudder at the concept. Making small talk was odd enough. Making small talk about schools for death studies was downright weird.

Oh yes, there is, also in Kansas. It was a proud moment, seeing both my children graduate last year.

How interesting, Cady said, though without much feeling. She glanced around the place, taking in her surroundings – not that there was much to see. With the tasteful, yet warm country décor, it looked less like a funeral parlor and more like the uncluttered home of a beloved great aunt. Her gaze roved up and down along the blue and white striped wallpaper before she turned back to Tom and asked, May I please see my mother?

Certainly! After all, that is the reason you drove such a long way. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. It is a loss the entire town is grieving. He gestured for her to follow him and led her toward the back of the building.

They stepped through a door into a room that was less cozy and more clinical with its plain white walls and two sets of stainless steel mortuary cabinets with three drawers each. Cady wondered if they ever actually made use of all six drawers, but she doubted that many people had ever died at once in Ravenna. The town was barely a blip on the state map.

We’re ready for everything to proceed as planned tomorrow. The memorial service will begin at ten o’clock, if that is still acceptable to you.

Yes, Cady answered with a nod. It’s not something I want to put off, so the sooner, the better. What is the difference between a memorial service and a funeral?

Well, since your mother’s remains were cremated–

Cremated! She hadn’t meant to yell, but it slipped out before she could moderate her volume. Lowering her voice, she continued, I hadn’t realized that’s what... Words failed and she shrugged as she finished, What you had done with her.

It was your mother’s wish, of course. We don’t make those decisions. It’s up to the deceased or, if they leave no specific instructions, the next of kin. Your mother’s wishes were expressed very clearly in her Will and all paid for before she died. It was to be expected, since all the women in your family choose cremation. It’s a Gray tradition to give their remains back to the earth. Surely you knew that?

Cady told herself she was overreacting in thinking the look he gave her was one of reproach. He was a funeral director. His job was to be sympathetic, not to scold her. I guess I hadn’t considered it, she answered, casting her gaze down at the linoleum floor. We always visited their graves and I just thought there were people actually interred there...

Just because it might be ashes instead of a whole body, doesn’t make the visit any less worth your while, especially with your family. Tom did not look at all apologetic, nor did he look accusatory, and Cady felt a little better about how casual he sounded when he spoke of bodies and remains. He was the expert, after all, so she supposed very little about death flustered him. Anyway, here she is. I think she made an excellent choice.

At first, Cady had no idea what he was talking about. She approached the box on the table he indicated. I thought when people were cremated, the ashes usually ended up in an urn of some sort.

The women of your family always opt for this. It’s more harmonious with the earth, they say. They have no intention of anyone retaining their ashes, so they choose to be interred in something that will decompose over time.

It felt odd to kneel before the table and regard the wooden box with a critical eye, but Cady did just that. She looked at the designs inscribed on it and tentatively traced her fingers along them. The interlocking vines of ivy scrolled around the sides of the box. On the lid, there was a pentagram with ivy vines twisting around it, and the name Harmony Renata Gray etched above the five-pointed star.

Renata? Cady flicked a glance at Tom.

Renata was your grandmother’s name, so of course she passed it on to your mother as her middle name. You’re full name is Cadence Harmony Gray, right?

Chilton, she muttered, turning back to the box. My parents were married, so my surname is Chilton, like the Mayflower passenger. But, yes, my middle name is Harmony.

It’s another family tradition, passing on the mother’s first name as the daughter’s middle name, as well as keeping the Gray surname. I’m sorry for mistaking your name again. We didn’t realize you hadn’t kept it. When Councilman Blair and I composed the letter, we thought...

It’s not a problem. Because in a few days, I’ll be back to my normal life. Cady straightened and thrust her hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around her car keys. Their jagged edges reminded her that all of this was temporary. I need to go to my mother’s and start going over her belongings. The letter I received from Mr. Blair said I could get the keys to the house from you. I’d like to sort out my mother’s affairs as quickly as possible, so I can return home by the end of next week. I only took five days off from work.

Tom looked taken aback, but recovered his composure quickly. She wasn’t sure what bothered him so much about her request and, frankly, she didn’t care. Maybe the town of Ravenna remained home to the Hoveys and had been home to the Gray women for a long time, but it was not where Cady belonged.

He took a set of keys out of a small basket on the desk behind him, and laid them in her hand. I really hope you will reconsider the length of your stay, he said quietly.

Cady bit back a sarcastic Doubt it and simply nodded. After another moment, she found a civil response. Thank you for all of your help, Mr. Hovey. I will be here a little before ten tomorrow for the viewing... memorial service.

As much as she hated to leave the air conditioning behind, Cady stepped back out under the blazing Midwestern sun and strode to her car. She wasn’t sure which was more uncomfortable – the heat and humidity, or the mortician’s scrutiny. Opening her door, she saw a black sedan pull up in the driveway, a young woman about her age behind the wheel.  Rather than wait to find out if it was Quinn Hovey, she got in her own car, shut the door, and rammed the keys into the steering column.

The woman who got out of the black sedan was quite a bit taller than her, with black hair and blue eyes. She looked at ease in blue jeans, a plain green t-shirt, and brown boots, and her gaze locked on Cady. It took her a moment to realize it was a very grown-up Quinn Hovey.

Recollection teased at her mind and she felt a blush suffuse her cheeks. So many years ago... my first spell... a love spell...

She fumbled with the keys, not sure why she kept missing her mark. A shock akin to static electricity sparked briefly, drawing her gaze to her hand. That was when realized she was trying to start the car with her mother’s house key. Swearing under her breath at both the magick and the town, she threw the unfamiliar ring of keys against the passenger seat and reached back into her pocket for her own keys. When she hazarded a look up, she saw Quinn standing on the stoop of the funeral parlor, arms folded and lips pursed in amusement.

Cady pretended not to even notice her as she backed out of the driveway and on to the main street. Of all the people in her hometown, something told her Quinn was the last one she wanted to encounter.

CHAPTER TWO

Harmony Gray’s house was a simple but charming little Victorian home on Grand Avenue. It wasn’t nearly as ornate or spacious as the bed and breakfast down the street, or some of the other homes built in the same century, but Cady had lived in it most of her childhood and still felt it was the most beautiful home in town.

Gingerbread trim hung from the eaves and scrolled along the overhangs, connecting the columns and graceful arches. Tracing the light purple woodwork with her eyes, playing mental hide and seek what the variations in the pattern, was something she never got tired of as a child. The house had been in the Gray family since the 1860’s. According to family lore, the husband of one of Cady’s ancestors had built it as a gift to his wife after they immigrated to America and made the journey from east to west.

Staring at the house from the driver’s seat of the car, Cady realized she didn’t know as much about the house as her mother would have liked. But what is there to know about a house, anyway? she wondered. All that mattered was having four walls and a roof overhead. The sense of comfort that came with it was a bonus. For a moment, she thought with longing about her small apartment back on the Cape. Those were four walls she’d made her own, even if they lacked the playful motif that reminded her of the wonders of childhood.

With a sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out to stare up at the two-story home. It was subdued as Victorian houses go – a deep, almost grayish brown, with that endless cascade of lavender-painted scrollwork trim edging it. For a moment, another memory came to mind, but fled before Cady could grasp at it completely. She turned back to the car for her purse and suitcase, and her mother’s key ring.

When she opened the front door, she half expected it to creak, but the only spooky thing about the empty house was its silence. Cady blinked owlishly until her eyes adjusted to the murky, filtered light. Only then did she step across the threshold. The house still smelled like every single day of her childhood. She pushed the mixed sensations of nostalgia and grief aside, and wondered if the scent would prove detrimental to selling the place. Patchouli and lilac incense clung to the corners, and Cady almost expected to see smoke wafting past at eye-level.

You’re a freak, she told herself aloud. Get over it.

She turned to her left and, with confident strides, crossed the front parlor to throw open the heavy curtains at the bay window facing the street. Sunlight illuminated the room and Cady turned around, remembering what a cheerful home her mother kept. Whoever drew the curtains in deference to the dead, they didn’t do her mother’s memory honor. There was nothing formal or stuffy about this parlor, with its white beadboard walls, hardwood floors the color and texture of weathered driftwood, and white furniture. Even though Harmony Gray refused to leave Nebraska, the room décor was an homage to the coast. Cady knew from family photos that the front parlor had always looked like this – cheery and bright, as if like drew like.

As above, so below. Her mother’s voice filled her thoughts. Surround yourself with what you want in your life, and it will come to you. Violet Gray wanted only positivity and light after her experiences in England, so that is what her husband gave her.

Cady snapped her fingers at the memory that had nagged at her earlier in the driveway. Violet Gray – that was the name of the ancestor for whom the house was built, her great-great-great grandmother. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. If her mother were still alive, she would be pleased her daughter remembered something about their family.

Such an odd name, Cady said, half-expecting her own voice to echo back to her.

I suppose, but I think it follows the usual pattern of things.

Oh my gods! Cady screamed. She spun around, hands flying to her chest as if they could calm her racing heart. Her eyes focused on the middle-aged woman standing in the front doorway. She had dark red