Chapter 9 #2
"Enough, Poppy,” Mom says. “You're getting nowhere, and she's in agony. Her spirit essence won't survive what needs to be done to break the spell."
She's right. I’ve only just begun to undo this spell, and Davina can barely hold her form, distorting with pain.
"I'm sorry." I drop my hands. "I'm so sorry."
The ghost sags, exhausted, but her eyes meet mine, and there's understanding there. She knows I tried.
Mom drifts back, looking shaken. "Whoever cast that spell knew what they were doing. It's designed to cause maximum pain if tampered with."
Which means someone really doesn't want Davina talking.
I look at this girl—a young woman who likely suffered through ten years of some heinous witch plot Laurel's involved in and think of my sisters.
If this were Lily or Violet in front of me, I wouldn't want them to suffer any more than they already had.
"Let me help you cross over." The words hurt to say. "I can guide you to the Goddess Mother's realm. You'll finally be at peace."
Davina shakes her head violently.
"You're in pain," I insist gently. "You've helped us today even if you couldn't tell us what we need to know. Now it's time for you to rest and join your ancestral powers."
She wavers, conflict playing across her ghostly features. Then, slowly, she nods.
I reach for the deepest part of my spirit magic, the purest energy that connects to the souls and spirits caught between worlds.
Davina's spirit begins to calm, her desperation eases, her terror fades.
Light blooms around us, warm, golden, and infinite. The light flares, and Davina's form dissolves into it, at last finding the peace she so desperately deserves.
"Blessed be, Davina Draven. May the Goddess Mother and your ancestors welcome you home.”
The silence after Davina crosses over presses against my eardrums. I'm still staring at the space where her light faded when Wylder removes his hand from my shoulder and moves around to face me. "Are you all right?"
I manage a nod, though I'm not sure it's convincing.
Mom drifts closer, her form still solid. "You did well, petal. Guiding someone across the veil is a gift unlike any other. The Goddess Mother will take care of Davina now."
"I still feel like I failed her. She was trying to tell us something important, and I couldn't help her."
"You gave her peace," Wylder counters. "That's not nothing."
Maybe not… but it doesn't ease the weight settling in my chest. I glance at Mom. "I need to call her mother."
Mom's expression shifts, sympathy flooding her features. "Are you certain? Sienna Draven isn't an easy woman. She's not warm on the best of days, and once you tell her why you're calling, this won't be one of those."
"That doesn't matter." I pull out my phone and meet Mom's worried gaze. "She deserves to know what happened to her daughter. Do you have her number?"
"In my address book, in the study."
The number's easy enough to find—Mom's old address book sits undisturbed in the drawer of the desk in the study. I look up Sienna Draven, type in the digits, and sit with my thumb hovering over the call button for a beat before I press it.
It rings three times.
"Sienna Draven." The voice that answers is clipped, professional, utterly devoid of emotion.
"Mrs. Draven, this is Poppy Hallowind-Forrester. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm calling about your daughter… Davina."
Before she can object or respond, I dive into the events of the night and tell her about me having a spirit affinity like my mom.
I explain how Davina came to me, how she'd aged, and our suspicions that she'd been held somewhere all this time, and about what I heard the night I interrupted Laurel's secret meeting.
When I pause to test her reaction, silence stretches between us, taut as a wire. I take that as a bad sign, and continue with how brave her daughter was and how she wanted to help us, but, in the end, I helped her pass to the Goddess Mother.
When I've finished, there is another long pause before Sienna speaks. "And you expect me to believe this? Some girl calls me out of nowhere claiming to have encountered my daughter. Why would she ever go to you and not me?"
"Maybe she did. Do any of you have a spirit affinity?"
"No."
Her answer is clipped, and now I'm wondering if calling her was a mistake.
"All I know is Davina was friends with my sister, Violet, when they were kids.
She knew my mom was a spirit witch, and maybe that's why she came here.
All I wanted was to tell you what I know.
Whatever happened to her and wherever she was, your daughter is at peace now. "
The line goes quiet again, the only sound is Sienna Draven's breathing on the other end of the line. "If this is some kind of sick joke—"
"It's not. Whether you believe me or not, I only called because I believe you have a right to know your daughter is now in the care of the Goddess Mother. I hope, in some way, this offers you some comfort."
I end the call before she can respond, my hand shaking slightly as I lower the phone.
Wylder moves closer and pulls me into a hug. "That took guts."
"Felt more like torture."
He eases back and brushes a finger down my cheek. "You did the right thing."
I lean into the contact, letting myself absorb his steady energy for a moment.
"And you're wiped."
His gaze is no less worried than it was earlier in the library, but it feels like something has shifted. Something important. But now isn't the time to unpack that.
"Yeah, I think I'm done for one night."
Wylder's thumb brushes my jaw before he drops his hand. "Then I'll go and let you have a quiet night. You've earned it."
I manage a tired smile. "Thanks for helping me with the research stuff. And for… everything."
He winks, and it hits me all the way down to my toes. "Anytime, Hallowind."
He heads for the door, and I realize how right he is. I'm drained after a long, eventful night: the kiss, Vale's visit, the summons to the Order of the Arcane, Davina's ghost, and then telling an angry woman that her daughter didn't die like everyone thought.
The weight of it all presses in on me.
I need a hot bath, comfort food, and mindless television.
By the time I come downstairs, my muscles are loose, my mind is clearer, and I find Asher exactly where I expect him—sprawled across the couch in the family room, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach.
I flop onto the couch beside him, stealing a handful of popcorn. "Whatcha watching?"
"The Great British Bake Off. Steph's soufflé just collapsed."
He shifts to make room, and I curl into the cushions, pulling a blanket over my legs. "Good news for David."
"Yep, he's cool enough under pressure to make the most of it, too."
I snuggle in and zone out. After a few minutes, Somebuddy and Nobuddy jump up and claim their spots on the blanket. When they've hunkered down, I reach over and give their adorable snausage bodies a little pat.
Asher glances at me. "Your thinking face is showing."
"Can't help it."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
He tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "I'm here if you change your mind. Otherwise, we're just two cool cats watching people stress-bake."
And that's exactly what I need. No probing questions, no heavy conversations. Just Asher being Asher, offering comfort through his mere presence. I steal more popcorn and let the mundane drama of a baking competition distract me from the chaos swirling through my life.
I'm going to find my sisters. Whatever it takes.
But for tonight, this is enough.