Chapter 29
Transiting Mercury in Retrograde Stations Direct
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling of the living room. Still on the sofa, I don’t move.
Morning. It’s morning, and I’ve slept well. No more migraine. No more cervical pain like a deep, internal pilot light searing me. I’m actually refreshed for a change. Not as exhausted as usual. Almost like some of the energetic bonds attached to me for years have been abruptly cut and the holes left behind have filled with golden light and healed overnight. I feel lighter, like I could float away.
I didn’t realize how much other people’s ties to me have weighed me down and sucked away my physical and mental vigor.
Somewhere in the house, Christabel and Sonnet giggle over a noisy video game. I love the sound of their laughter after hearing Sonnet’s nightmares. The kitchen smells of waffles and maple syrup, and now the living room and probably half the house smells of a breakfast I’ve slept through. Again. But the girls are happy. My home is happy.
And then I remember that Jesse is gone, just as I do every time I wake up, and the emptiness that hollows out my soul hits me one more time.
I inhale through my crown chakra, pulling in a blinding white light of healing magick. I breathe in the light until everything within my skin fills with its tingling warmth, all the way to the tips of my toes. I feel more like myself than I have in months, more confidence, more faith in myself and my talents.
Somewhere beyond these walls, beyond my wards, however, the servitor meanders counterclockwise around my shields, weakening them with every revolution.
My phone buzzes under my hip. I fumble to find it. Tom’s name flashes on the screen, above a long list of missed calls.
Sheesh, I must have slept deeply.
“H-hello?”
“Lauren? I didn’t wake you, did I? It’s ten in the morning.”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I—”
“Because that worries me. You’re wanting to keep custody of your younger daughter, and your sleeping in gives the impression that you might be dealing with drugs or alcohol. Maybe a hangover or—”
“Tom, no. Just no. You know me! How can you even think that? I’m recovering from a migraine last night. I have witnesses if you need them.”
Now I’m angry. I have a bad feeling that Tom’s been spending too much time with Quent’s lawyer and that my ex’s point of view is rubbing off. I’m on the fence about firing him because I’m in the final months of my custody battle and by the time I can get another lawyer, probably one from out of town, Sonnet will be eighteen and out of Quent’s reach. I just need my current lawyer to do his job.
“What do you need, Tom?”
He clears his throat. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that I was finding fault with you. I’m only thinking of appearances because they matter more than you think. You may think authenticity is the most important thing, but to your ex-husband, it’s his image versus yours, and he wants to be seen as the better parent. Justine says he’s contemplating a run for mayor.”
Mayor? If I were more awake, I’d chuckle. If there’s anything more important to Quent than money, it’s appearances. Trying to show I’m a bad parent might help his political ambitions but losing track of Sonnet’s whereabouts in the middle of trying to prove he’s Dad of the Year could work against him.
“Anyway, Lauren, Justine said he’s put a hold on taking you back to court for emergency custody and child support. She’s not sure why. Has Sonnet called you?”
“Did Quent say she did?”
“No. It’s weird, but Justine won’t answer my questions about Sonnet. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do that for you.”
I ignore the twinge of guilt that I should tell him Sonnet is safely back with me, but my intuition tells me to stay quiet unless specifically asked if she’s come home. Both lawyers know Quent took her back to his house in defiance of our custody agreement, so there’s no denying that Sonnet’s dad has taken it upon himself to be responsible for her. If I tell Tom, he’ll likely tell Justine, and then my leverage will be gone. I want to trust Tom, but he’s listening to my ex’s lawyer more than he’s listening to me, even if he is inherently a good guy. He was once my champion but he’s now nonconfrontational, and that may be hurting my position.
“Okay, Tom. Just keep telling Justine that I want status on my daughter. Or Quent can drop this latest legal threat. I’m tired of it. I can’t wait for Sonnet to turn eighteen so I can be done with him for the rest of my life.” I didn’t mean to say that last sentence aloud.
“I get it. I do. That’s why I try to work with Justine to keep things on an even keel. I know you want me to fight back more, but sometimes, it’s better to de-escalate than to meet him head on.”
“De-escalation, I understand. Just don’t be a doormat.”
Tom sniffs. “I am not a doormat. If you’re dissatisfied with my services, I can refer you out, but I never even bring to you the majority of problems with your ex-husband. I work them quietly with Justine, so you don’t have more stress, Lauren.” His tone is arctic.
“You’ve never told me that. What kinds of problems?”
Sighing, Tom lowers his voice. The warmth returns. “My apologies. You must think I’m doing a bad job because I’ve been holding back stressors from you. Your ex is using your marriage to Jesse as rationale to try to gain sole custody. Don’t get me wrong: the whole town loves Jesse, but we all know—including Quent—that Jesse has, um, problems. The alcohol, the—” He stops short, knowing I’ll cut him off. “Honestly, Lauren, if Jesse were still living with you and your daughter, I’m certain you would’ve lost custody a couple of months ago. Quentin has suggested more than once that Jesse had drugs in the house, whether you knew it then or not. Jesse’s erratic behavior has only made the rumors worse. As it is, we’re dealing with the aftereffects. Quentin wanted to take advantage of your grief over Jesse and kick you while you’re down, but Justine has been able to temper that. She and I are both looking out for our clients’ best interests long-term. Even if you don’t see that.”
“Thank you, Tom.” His words weigh heavily on me, yet I choose carefully what I want to hear. Some places, emotionally, I’m just not ready to confront. “I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Call when you know something?”
“You’re welcome, Lauren. And I will. That’s why I phoned—to update you on the delay in action.”
I’ll tell him soon that Sonnet ran away from her dad’s. But not yet. Not quite. Today, I’m listening to my intuition.
I check my missed calls and texts. One is from my old friend Belinda, who knew Zephyr in my early days with the Grand Coven and, short of contacting either Dragon or the Elders, is the only person I can think of who might have Zephyr’s contact info. Belinda gives me a phone number, tells me it may not be current, and wishes me luck. I punch the number into my phone.
“Please do not leave a message. Send a text message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
Nothing more. No name, no confirmation of the number I called, nothing.
I craft a message in my head and peck it out on my phone.
Holding my breath, I send the message. Then I stare at my phone, willing a response, but none comes.
My phone buzzes again before I return the next missed call. Patrick. All hell is breaking loose at the bank, and he wants me to drop by to take a look at some photos from their security system.
Next, I call my mom back. She’s having a bad day, complaining that we haven’t talked in weeks. Her mind is slipping. She can’t recall that we’ve had four long conversations this week, each one an iteration of the same revelations, and each one garnering the same emotional responses from her as if I were telling her for the first time.
That alone is hard, but what she does remember includes the times when I was molested as a child—and she didn’t protect me. I’d thought she didn’t know, but as she’s less able to partition her memories, it’s becoming clearer that she did know what was going on and didn’t shield me. I understand why—she was too passive to stand up for herself or for me and she dared not bring down my dad’s wrath.
But that’s anger I don’t have the strength the deal with today. All I want is for her to take responsibility instead of discounting the trauma I lived through as a kid. Now she’s old and fragile, approaching eighty, and she’s stirring up old trauma in me by making excuses. I either want to keep those ancient shadows buried or for her to take responsibility, and she’s doing neither.
As I hang up, the heaviness descends again on my heart. I ignore it and dial Rhiannon’s number instead. I know she’d rather text, but I need to hear her voice, not unlike how my own mom calls to hear my voice.
“Hi, Mom! Are you okay?”
“Sure!” Great. One overly bright word from me, and she’s sure to know that everything is far from okay.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Just, um, just checking on you.”
“I’m fine. I’m walking into class now. Last exam of the semester. I’ll be home soon. Just gotta pack. I love you. Gotta go!”
My intuition is shimmering all around me. “Wait! Rhi, has anything bad happened there?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Anything weird following you? Bad dreams about horse chimera monsters? Anything?” She’s been the victim of Dragon’s dreams in the past, so my questions can’t be that bizarre to her.
“Mom. What’s going on? I gotta go. My professor is closing the door to class.”
“Rhiannon, just answer me.”
“No, Mom. No bad dreams.” She snickers, but without a hint of humor in her voice. No doubt she remembers Dragon’s avatar visit six years ago. “No monsters in my dreams. I’m fine. Really. I’ve got to go—”
Rhiannon is the only person in my closest circle who hasn’t been affected by all this misfortune of the last few months. Even though we talk on the phone once a week and often via text multiple times a day, she hasn’t been home since before the big Winter Solstice Manifestation Ritual at the Center of Light. Normally she and Sonnet would both have been there, but Quent and Sugar Britches took the girls on a holiday cruise, with Sonnet returning home between Solstice and Christmas. Rhiannon hasn’t been home since Thanksgiving, and she’s not been affected, but Sonnet has. Perhaps whoever has such evil intentions for my family has never seen Rhiannon. Only the people closest to me that the chaos witch has seen or encountered in person are in danger.
“Rhiannon! Don’t come home. Not yet.”
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