The LibraryAnswered Prophecy

Past Echoes

Maeve · Chapter 11 of 14 · 10-minute read

“Whoa, what? Spencer’s dead?” Is that, I wonder, why he didn’t come back? Not that the High Council was blocking any kind of interference, but that he was gone for good? I sink my hand into my jeans pocket and rub the curve of the beads. They still bear his energy.

“Don’t you worry, little mouse. Some of us are ready to guide Siobhan when Moira croaks. Funny that it’s Moira who’s the easiest of all, in her desperation, to manipulate. She brought me here today and let me meet you separately to see what I might ferret out of you, but I already knew.”

“Y-your astrology charts.”

My heart pounds. The Extended High Council travels in a group of twelve, and Lady Moira and her entourage totaled only eleven. The astrologer had been their missing twelfth, allowed to scout us, hide at the perimeter, and now to close the deal if they mistakenly deemed Veronica once again not the Chosen One.

“Yes, my charts. I’ve been following the stars for years, waiting for the return of the Wolf Queen. The one-thousand-year binding we put on her soul ended two days ago. Two degrees of the sun’s movement in the bowl of heaven. Jaryx had to reincarnate into the priesthood to answer the prophecy, and there’ve been no other births in three years. My charts led me right to her. And when I saw the wolves protecting you from what you perceived to be a threat—rightfully so—I had my confirmation.”

My blood turns to ice as I realize what she’s saying. “You remember your past life with her!”

“Only the good parts. She could’ve saved herself some trouble, but she couldn’t be swayed to do what we asked of her. She wouldn’t beg for her own life, but she was on her hands and knees in the dirt, pleading for her lover’s life. The last breaths she took, she swore she’d have her revenge on us, but that’s what people say when they’re powerless. They claim they’ll overcome in the future and make us sorry because they know they’ve already lost. Maybe she would have changed her mind about our petition to her if she’d known what she had to lose but she kept saying no. She was more powerful than any of us back then—it took almost a thousand of us to bind her.”

“How. . .how can you remember a whole lifetime? I thought remembering more than one lifetime was, um, impossible.”

“Simple. I didn’t accept the gift of knowing when I was Initiated. I had a choice of remembering my past or remembering my future or remembering nothing. Incarnation after incarnation, I chose to remember my last lifetime with Jaryx. If I didn’t remember where I came from, I wouldn’t have any idea now of where I’m going.”

“So you can’t see the future.” A statement, not a question.

“I don’t have to. My charts tell me everything I need to know. Even if I fail, there are more of us out there, and more of us coming. There were two of us standing within a stone’s throw of you an hour ago.”

“What?” The thought terrifies me. For as domineering as Lady Moira might seem, at least three of Veronica’s long-ago enemies have infiltrated the priesthood, and that’s worse. All of them want control over the prophesied savior of the human race. “But why?” I ask. “Revenge for something that happened centuries ago that doesn’t matter anymore?”

She casually lifts her shoulders up and then drops them. “It would be best if we control the priesthood through Jaryx, but if that proves impossible, we have a contingency plan in place. One of our own yet to be born. Regardless, Jaryx will have the same choice as a thousand years ago: she’s either with us or our war with her isn’t over and we’ll hurt her worse this time.”

“Your war with me isn’t over, either. I will not let you hurt my daughter.”

Laughter bubbles from her throat, a soft snicker turning into a snort and then a coughing spasm. “Oh, little mouse, you’re hilarious. You won’t do anything. Just like you’ve never done anything with your life—and won’t. Ever.”

I edge toward her car, hoping to get the door open in a show of bluster while ordering her off my property. Let her see my determination, let that convince her to leave. If not for good, then for now. “No one is taking my daughter from me. You or Lady Moira or anyone else. Now I suggest you get back in your car and⁠—”

As I grasp the handle, I glimpse the real welfare worker slumped lifeless in the back seat, the one from yesterday morning, blood pooled around her body and a bloody clipboard partially hiding her face. She’s been stripped down to her underwear, murdered for her clothes and easy access to Veronica.

This imposter has killed to get to us. She’ll think nothing of killing again.

In a flash, the woman pulls a nine-inch athame from a strap around her thigh and lunges at me, throwing me against the fender. She presses the ceremonial dagger to my throat. It stings my skin, but she doesn’t press hard enough to pierce an artery. Not yet. The tall azalea bushes hide us from prying eyes in the neighborhood, but also from Veronica.

“Call the little queen,” the woman hisses. “Call her or you die.”

I swallow hard, the blade nicking my skin. “You’ll kill me either way. You wouldn’t have told me all this if you didn’t plan to.”

She shrugs again. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have said a word, but I liked the look in your eyes when you realized who you were dealing with and that you didn’t actually stand a chance. But I’ll reconsider. If you want even a possibility of staying alive, bring the Wolf Queen to me.”

A chance at life isn’t worth it if I let my little girl get hurt. I shake my head defiantly, muscles of my neck tight so the blade doesn’t cut too deep. Whether I have an ounce of magic in me or not, she’ll never lay a hand on Veronica if I can stop her.

The astrologer sighs. “Have it your way. No one will ever see you again after today. You’ll be as dead as Spencer. You’ll vanish without a trace, just like he did, and I’ll take the little Wolf Queen back to the priesthood to raise her myself.” She pauses to chuckle. “And your neighbors will wonder whatever happened to you—the teen mom who was never seen again. It’s all right there in my charts—transiting Neptune conjunct and obscuring your natal Sun in your solar return Midheaven, transiting Pluto conjunct your natal Moon, and—the nail in your coffin—your transiting Ascendant conjunct the fixed star Antares. See? Your life blinks out today, like a beacon that suddenly disappears from existence.”

In the distance, on the other side of the azaleas, I hear a small voice call my name. “Maeve? Mom?”

I shout with all my strength. “Run, Peanut! Run! Get away from here!”

But it’s too late. She doesn’t understand the message I’m trying to send her. Drawn by the commotion, Veronica stands not more than twelve feet away, eyes wide with fear.

The astrologer grins wickedly. “There you are, little one. Come to Auntie Ouida. I’ll take good care of you.”

What the woman doesn’t know is that Veronica’s Initiation from her past life still holds, as does the gift of future memories—and she still remembers her last lifetime. Veronica knows this woman. Remembers her for what she did.

“Aw, come on. Don’t make me use this knife on your mommy. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for something bad happening to her, would you?”

“Run!” I grind out through my teeth. I squirm again, but the woman holds me in place. How dare she guilt-trip a three-year-old, witch queen or not, about my impending death!

Veronica’s head snaps back as she shakes it, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. She retreats slowly, her body tense and ready for action. “Let her go!” she bellows in her tiny, sweet voice, her words ringing through the air like a barely audible battle cry.

“Only if you come with me. That’s how this works.” The astrologer presses the knife harder against my throat until I gasp and stop squirming. “Get in the car, you little brat.”

“I have a better idea.” Veronica squares her shoulders and tilts her head to look up at the woman. She moves closer, maybe six feet away, and stops. She holds her arms to her sides, palms face up. Her jaw tightens as she sucks in air through her teeth.

But nothing happens.

“Release my mother,” she commands, her childlike voice echoing with authority her body can’t match.

Her old enemy blinks in surprise but keeps her grip firm. “You haven’t changed in a thousand years. Still so arrogant,” she sneers. “I don’t take orders from children.”

“Nor do I take them from you,” Veronica replies calmly. “This is your last chance.”

The astrologer presses the blade harder against my throat. I cry out in pain.

Though I flinch, Veronica does not. “So be it. You chose this path a long time ago, Aetheryx. You didn’t face the consequences then for what you did to me—to Shelby and me—but you can face them now.”

The woman stiffens, her entire body responding as she realizes Veronica remembers their past together as Aetheryx and Jaryx, and all her transgressions against her queen.

Veronica extends her small hands high above her head. The air crackles with energy. Two wolves emerge from the bushes behind Veronica, their hackles raised. Slowly, they begin circling the astrologer and me, their teeth bared in warning. One stands between us and the car door, so there’s no escape.

The astrologer uses me as a shield but waves her athame at the closer of the two wolves. “Get back!” she shouts at them.

I struggle against her, stomping her foot with my bare foot and managing only to draw her annoyance. I’ve had enough. If today is my last day on earth, at least I can give my daughter a chance to run. I’ll give up my dreams of being a researcher in the priesthood’s best astrological library. I’ll give up my hopes of being the astrologer for Siobhan’s reign as Ranking High Priestess. I’ll give up the possibility of one day falling in love and being happy. I’ll give my life to buy her five minutes to escape.

“Run, Veronica!” I cry. “Hide!”

Ignoring the blade that slices through the air toward the wolf, I struggle against the astrologer’s grip. I kick at her with my bare feet and wish I were fonder of wearing shoes. She tightens the crook of her elbow around my throat, choking me.

“Stay put, or you both die!” she snarls.

“No,” Veronica says softly. “That’s not the way this works.”

Veronica doesn’t move, her eyes fixed on the wolves. Two more emerge from the bushes, then a whole pack assembles behind her. They pad silently forward, yellow eyes glowing, deep guttural warnings.

Veronica’s old enemy pales. “Call them off!”

“You should have fled when you had the chance,” Veronica says coldly.

The wolves close in, circling us tighter, closer. The astrologer shrieks, swiping at them with her dagger, trying to keep me in her grip. One of them sinks its teeth into her hand on her next swipe, and she drops the blade. She stumbles backward, taking me with her, but another wolf bares its teeth at her. As it lunges, she uses me as a shield, but the wolf retreats. Two more close in on us, and this time she shoves me at them, kicking me in the seat of my pants with her closed-toed pump.

I sprawl across the ground, the heels of my palms digging into the grass. My swollen ankle aches with a vengeance.

I raise my chin to find myself face to face with the largest wolf of them all. It launches into the air—over me—hitting the woman in the chest and knocking her to the ground. The other wolves crowd in around her, bypassing me. Snarling, bared teeth, savage growls.

She shrieks as the wolves descend on her.

I shield my eyes and scramble to my feet, bile rising in my throat. I limp toward Veronica. “Don’t look, sweetie! Don’t look!”

She grasps my hand as I reach her, but only two fingers fit in her palm. “Dear sweet Mom, I’ve lived through far worse.”

As she squeezes my fingers, I glance over my shoulder. The woman’s arm shoots skyward from a mass of fur and teeth. Her fingers claw the air before her arm drops below the fury.

The cries stop.

“Maeve? The High Council is coming back. I can sense them.”

Crumpling to my knees, I fight the nausea and try to focus on Veronica’s safety. “We can’t risk the High Council getting their hands on you. That woman—that, um, that woman has allies in the priesthood. From the past. From your past.”

“I know. Get up, Maeve. We have to go. Right now,” Veronica says calmly in a voice that grows stronger by the second. “I just remembered this part.”

Jaryx’s voice.


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