Chapter 7
"You can't fight the river," her Gram told her again.
They’d trekked back and forth, pulling out all the sandbags from the garage, a few from the tiny tool shed, and two others from inside the house. Annalise had no idea why they were inside but she didn’t ask.
They’d put on their wading boots and placed the bags carefully around the foundation.
They wanted to push against the lattice wood that was there just for design.
It took a little longer to get them stacked.
Luckily, the back of the crawlspace was cut into the side of the mountain, and they only had to protect the front.
Still, it was backbreaking labor, and she worried about Story. In the time it had taken them to get it all situated, the water had risen half the height they covered. It threatened to slosh over the tops of her almost knee-high rain boots and into the well that formed in the pit of her stomach.
Unless the rain quit now, the sandbags wouldn't save them. Wouldn’t even come close.
But Annelise didn't stop fighting. She would not let the water win. She wasn’t sure her grandmother could bounce back a second time. She’d been young enough fifteen years ago. Now? Annelise tried not to calculate the woman’s age. It only worried her. Not paying the bill worried her, too.
She wrapped her hand around the crystal at her neck and felt the heat, mild but true, as she pushed her magic through it, purifying her thoughts.
Her grandmother was a generalist witch, and would do what she could, but Story couldn't fight the river.
Annelise's power had always been in the water.
She could do this. She hadn't been old enough, skilled enough, or strong enough last time.
She'd not been able to save the house. Only the bones of the old place had survived.
The foundations were intact, but everything else washed away or was destroyed by the floodwaters.
The Lockheart women had to move while the repairs were taking place.
The only reason the house still stood—or stood again—today was the government emergency assistance.
Like most insurance policies, the funds didn't simply pay out and let the devastated homeowners move away.
They helped only if they stayed in the same place and rebuilt in the same spot.
She now understood that it prevented people from using an emergency as a chance to cash out on the government's dime.
But it also prevented them from moving to safer ground.
So here they were, in the exact same place, fifteen years later as she stood on the porch while the water once again refused to back down.
Though she didn't say it out loud, and though she spent the majority of her energy working through her spells, the underlying chant I can do it this time was just as strong a force as any magic she was casting.
Annelise watched as, slowly, the river moved slightly, heading away, curving around the house. Subtle shifts in the way it hit the rocks turned the currents, taking the silt, the sticks and twigs that carried—and hopefully the havoc it would wreak—away from her home.
Holding the river back was slow, difficult work. The steady drumming of the rain, the soft climb of the water higher and higher up the grassy bank, forced a massive effort. She had to sustain fighting a storm, a river, and the force of nature.
She’d been standing here, pushing back, when the water crossed the road. Then, she pushed back again as it rolled across the sidewalk that led to the porch steps. Now it licked at the porch as she still fought to keep it at bay.
As she glanced down at the driveway, she saw her tires were only a few feet from the water, too.
If the river got higher, the car would be in trouble.
If they were leaving, it would have to be on foot and up the mountain behind them.
There would be no way to drive along the road as it was now.
If she couldn't fight it, the water would rise, and it would get the engine of the car. Another loss.
The thick trees that blanketed the mountains backed right up to the house.
Barely fifteen feet of grass and Story’s flowers separated the back patio from the mountain flora that threatened to encroach.
They brought the elemental magic of the woods right to the Lockheart's back door, but it meant there was nowhere else to drive. The outside world had seeped into the hollow over the years. As the families or individuals escaped, they’d gotten educated, and often come back.
And they brought bits and pieces of the modern world with them, which butted up against the ancient magics on a daily basis.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, Annelise sustained the spell as next to her, her Gram snorted.
Annelise wanted to ask what that was about, but she was afraid if she stopped even for a moment, allowed even the slightest break in the power she wielded, the water would come rushing up, the dam she provided broken.
It would mark the end of everything. Annelise had lived it before; she wouldn’t do it again.
In the end, she didn't have to ask, because Story snorted again. "The rain comes as long as it comes, child.”
Annelise felt her teeth push together and wanted to say, Water witch, remember Gram? but she didn't.
They waited another few minutes like that, Story offering small prayers—general ones though—for safety, for the animals, for the houses down the street.
If she turned her head and looked directly at them, Annelise could see the water licking at the neighbor’s homes.
As small as her own, and as old, all the houses had been here for the first flood.
Most of the families on the little river-front row had been, too.
The water kissed their porches. At one home, it lapped at the front door.
Further down, it was likely sliding quietly over the threshold, creating a small tide across the floorboards and ruining everything.
Story prayed for them, and Annelise worked to save their own house. The place that saved her and held her tight when things fell apart. The only true home she'd ever known. The one that had once held so many more, but now was only her and her grandmother, the great Astoria Lockheart.
If for no other reason, Annelise had to save her own house because she knew as soon as the water receded, everyone would be here, hoping for Story’s help—her potions, her prayers, even just to calm the panic.
Story would give them everything she had.
Hell, Story would give them everything Annelise had, too, if it wasn't locked down.
Annelise had to protect what was here now, so Gram could help mend the community, stitch the pieces back together when this was over.
Staying steady in her stance on the front porch, she held disaster at bay as Story walked away. Came back. Looked out the window. Asked if she wanted food.
Annelise didn't break her spell for any of it.
Occasionally, she shook her head slightly, until at last, Story stood beside her again, watching as the water flowed in a strange arc around the border of their home.
The sandbags did part of the job, and the rushing surface of the river occasionally splashed over, but it didn't invade the boundary of the house.
"It's good work, girl," Gram whispered to her, and Annelise felt her pride swell, a soft heat glowing in her chest. She had not been able to do this last time.
"But you can't hold it forever."
It popped, bursting like a soap bubble. How fragile it had been.
"You don't have to hold it," she told Annelise, though Annelise knew that wasn't true. She had to. She couldn't let it go down like last time.
"Change is coming with the water," Gram added again, her words a cryptic little knot settling hard in Annelise's heart. “Sometimes you have to let it happen.”
No, Annelise thought, pushing harder. The last rain had brought change, none of it good. In the aftermath of the flood, everything had gone wrong. Everyone had crumbled. Everything had broken.
She wouldn't let it happen again.
So now she held the spell and the force as long as she could, until the day faded and her grandmother's words settled in her bones.
She grew weary. She should have taken the food when it was offered, but it was too late now.
She was lagging, losing the battle, and she felt the moment the water finally won.