“I’m fine. Just used to giving IV’s, not getting them,” she added with a smile.
Before long, the bluish fluid was dripping rapidly into her arm. Everyone relaxed and visited while we waited in the safety of the circle.
Mom gestured for me and I moved to her side. “Is everything okay?” she asked, taking my hand and glancing briefly toward Jett and Seth.
“I hope so. We need to do some talking, but it can wait until we see how things go with you.”
At that moment, a white light suddenly appeared, growing ever stronger as Dee Dee took on full form staring straight at Mom. The others in the room gasped in shock.
“Dee Dee?” I asked in surprise, wondering what she was doing here.
Her face appeared determined and in one swift move, she dove straight toward my mom. A brilliant purple light shattered through the air as my mom’s pendant activated, repelling the entity trying to reach her. Immediately, Dee Dee refocused her attention on me, rushing toward me at full speed. I gasped as she entered my body, feeling her zip through my arm and into my mom.
A swirling vortex developed in the center of the circle, sucking the table completely out of the room.
“What’s happening?” I yelled as I struggled to hang on to my mom.
“She’s going to jump!” Hex yelled, grabbing my mom’s other hand.
“Dad!” I screamed in desperation, reaching out for him.
“Kenna!” he shouted.
The next moment everything around me disappeared. Tumbling through the air, I screamed, my hands clawing at the emptiness around me, searching for anything to grasp onto.
Hitting something hard, the air whooshed out of my lungs as I rolled several feet before coming to a complete stop. Glancing up, I saw my mom standing over me, smiling, the IV still hanging from her arm.
Terror filled me. “Mom? What happened?” I asked, climbing to my feet.
Her smile grew wider. “I am not your mom,” she stated, causing fear to race through me.
“Dee Dee?” I asked in a choked whisper. “Is that you?”
“I have waited a long time to return home,” she replied. Instantly she dematerialized, disappearing completely and taking the body she had possessed with her.
Several loud grunts sounded behind me and I whirled around to find everyone else, rolling on the ground behind me.
“What the hell was that?” Dad asked, standing and glancing around. “Kenna, where’s your mom?”
“It’s not Mom,” I rushed to explain. “She’s been possessed by a ghost that was in the house.”
“We had a ghost and you didn’t deem it something important I should know about?” he growled.
“I didn’t want you to freak out.”
“Well, I’m freaking out now! Where’s my wife?”
“She said she’s waited a long time to come home, and then she disappeared.”
“Where is home, exactly, Kenna? We need to know everything you can tell us about this spirit,” Grandma spoke as she stepped toward me.
“She was never very specific.” I wracked my brain, trying to come up with anything. “All she said was that she was in love with a boy who married someone else after she was forced to marry a madman. She never gave me a time frame to her existence—only that she was tied to something in Salem. That’s all I know. I swear.”
“What about clothing? What was she wearing?”
“She was the same as she looked like now. Just in a long white shift with a ring of flowers around her head.”
“None of this is helping.”
“How’d we all end up here anyway?” Jett asked.
“I have no idea,” Hex said, scratching his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I wonder if the entity somehow magnified the jinn powers and opened a portal of sorts. Because we were all contained in the circle, we all took the jump,” Grandma suggested.
“So where are we?” Seth asked, his hands still pressed to the earth. “The ground doesn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not following.
“It’s . . . cleaner? Not as full of pollutants.”
“So we’re really far out in the middle of a forest somewhere?” Glancing around, all I could see was lush greenery.
“No, you don’t understand. When I feel the earth, I can sense all of it—as a whole.”
“So you’re saying the whole earth doesn’t feel right?” My brain struggled to wrap around this.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It feels almost . . . younger.”
Grandma glanced at Dad. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”
“I’ve had a bad feeling since we arrived.” He stalked away, running a hand through his hair. “Kenna, think harder. There has to be something else we can go on.”
I felt totally helpless, knowing I didn’t have any more information to give them.
“Wait! Look!” Jett pointed and we all followed his gaze to a small road that no one had previously noticed. In the distance there appeared to be a man approaching with a wagon.
“Is it possible that we’ve gone back in time?” I asked, unable to believe my eyes. “Or maybe we’ve landed in the middle of some sort of reenactment?”
“Follow my lead,” Jett said, stepping forward. Immediately all our clothing changed and we looked as if we were a group of peasants standing on the side of the road. I realized, then, we’d been made to match the clothing style of the man walking in front of the cart.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” my dad asked under his breath.
“We have no idea where we are and I can cast illusions and interpret languages. Do you have a better suggestion?”
“No. Go for it,” Dad continued. “Just try not to get us killed, if at all possible.”
“That is the plan,” Jett whispered.
We all watched as the man approached and Jett raised his hand in greeting. The man paused but didn’t say anything, as if waiting for one of us to speak. I knew Jett had no idea what language to use.
Suddenly he doubled over and began coughing. The man rushed to his side, speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue as he pounded him on the back heartily.
“Gaelic.” Jett managed to spit out before being pounded again. Raising his hands in submission, he thanked the man and continued speaking with him.
“Gaelic.” I breathed out in surprise.
“Ask him what year it is,” my dad prodded.
“Working on it,” Jett spoke, exasperation filtering through his voice. He continued speaking with the man, but the man looked confused.
Finally Jett turned and motioned for us all to gather closer around him. “Near as I can tell we are in Ireland, but there is no supreme ruler. The land appears to be ruled by five primary kings, who rule over lesser kingdoms that are governed by different rulers. If I understood him correctly, he said he came to Ireland recently with the Celts.”
“The Celts?” Irritation filled my dad’s voice. “Like as in somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred to one hundred B.C.?” His voice crescendoed as he spoke.
“Well, it’s not like I can ask him that! He doesn’t exactly have calendar or even a clue about what B.C. and A.D. stand for, since they haven’t happened yet. This is the best I can pin it down for you.”
“B.C. Ireland,” Hex said in amazement, staring around.
My dad seemed completely frustrated. “Aw, shit. We are so screwed!”
Acknowledgments
Over the last few years, I have received message after message from readers who have read the Of Witches and Warlocks series, begging for more. Much to their dismay, I constantly hedged on the idea, never feeling like I had quite the right story to tell . . . until now. It is my hope that everyone will enjoy this continuation as much as I have, but there are still so many exciting things left to come in this adventure!
I want to thank my husband, James, for letting me bounce ideas off him for months. I’m sure
he’s totally sick of the story by now. I also thank my children, Brady and Kysee, for helping to give their input when I needed opinions. Also, a HUGE thank to my daughter Kamery Solomon, who did the AMAZING formatting for both the ebook and print interiors. You are awesome! And to my best friend, Belinda Boring, thank you for reading along and letting me know if I was on the “right path.” I love seeing you swoon! A special thank you goes out to Raquel Auriemma, for her help in answering any questions I had about the Salem area during my research for the story. I couldn’t have done this without any of you!
Lots of Love,
Lacey
Stay Tuned for more excitement in the Of Witches and Demons series, coming soon in book two,
CRAFT!
About the Author:
Lacey Weatherford is the #1 International and USA TODAY bestselling author of the popular young adult paranormal romance series, Of Witches and Warlocks, and contemporary series, Chasing Nikki, Crush, and Allure. She has always had a love of books and wanted to become a writer ever since reading her first Nancy Drew novel at the age of eight.
Lacey resides in the beautiful White Mountains of Arizona, with her wonderful husband and children. When she’s not out supporting one of her kids at their sporting/music events, she spends her time reading, writing, and visiting with her readers on her social media accounts.
Visit Lacey’s Official Website:
http://www.laceyweatherfordbooks.com
Follow on Twitter:
LMWeatherford
Or Facebook:
Lacey Weatherford
Did you love Coven? Then you might enjoy the latest time-travel hit from author Kamery Solomon, Swept Away! Get a free look now!
Prologue
Buried treasure.
It’s quite possible no two words, when placed together, incite the imagination of a person so greatly. Immediately, visions of rugged men, tanned from months at sea, bodies bearing scars that tell of a lifetime of battle, their clothes hanging slightly tattered around them, fill the mind of the believer. They imagine old, locked chests carried between sailors, over sandy beaches and into dense forests where the air is so thick that moisture clings to their every movement. Perhaps, just before burying their booty, the pirates decide to have one last look, cracking open their vault and revealing piles of gold coins, strings of pearls, and bright gemstones that spill over the lip of the case, tumbling into the pit below. And then, the buccaneers hide it all there in the dirt, under the leafy greens of the tropical paradise. A map is drawn, where “x” marks the spot, and then tucked away. Maybe the men will come back for the treasure, maybe they won't. Years later, some poor lad will find the map and go on an adventure rife with danger and suspense, winning the final outcome of a better life with more money than he could ever possibly use or want.
At the same time, no two words paired together have caused more eye rolls and explanations of disbelief. People don't partake of such adventures, and anything remotely like that kind of endeavor rarely happens. Surely, buried treasure does exist, but not on such a large and grand scale.
Or does it?
At one point in my life, I would have called myself a skeptic. Lost gold only brought trials to my mind, family issues, and a hate I didn't quite understand. But now? Hidden fortune tells me a story of danger, death, a love that conquered all time, and the greatest adventure of my life.
Chapter One
Tapping the toe of my shoe against the tiled floor, I checked my phone once more, frowning as I looked at it. He was more than an hour late. What a great way to start our unfortunate time together.
In all honesty, I should have known better. If what Mom had said about Dad and his punctuality was even remotely true, I ought to have planned to tell him the plane was arriving two hours earlier than it actually was. It'd been so long since I'd seen him, though, I couldn't remember if she'd been exaggerating or not.
The issue was this: my father was legitimately, one hundred percent crazy. He spent all day digging in the ground, looking for some lost treasure he was convinced lay just beyond his reach. Each night was spent planning to do the same thing when the sun rose again. Because of this obsession, he won himself a divorce after three years of marriage and shared custody of his only child—me. He used to come visit me in Arizona every spring, before returning to his stupid quest, but that all stopped after my tenth birthday. Becoming so involved in the search, he slipped further and further from us, spending more time away, quitting his day job, and eventually disappearing from our lives. We wrote every now and then, but there wasn't all that much to say. It'd been twelve years since he last visited and the basics of what we'd said to each other over that time could probably fit on a piece of notebook paper.
Something had changed when Mom got sick, though. Suddenly, she wanted Dad and I to talk more, to really know each other. She instigated a few video calls, insisted I write letters about school, and even invited him to my high school graduation. He hadn't been able to make it, saying something came up about a swamp he was swimming in. I think.
“Why are you defending him?” I’d practically demanded from my mom, not wanting to admit I was hurt he'd missed my big night.
“He's your father, Samantha,” she answered simply, just like she did any time I asked why I had to stay in touch. “I spent so many years keeping you from him, wanting you for my own. When I'm gone, I want you to have a parent to go to, even if it's someone who believes in buried treasure.”
“He's the one who stopped wanting to see me! That stupid hole in the ground is more important to him than I ever was.”
“That’s not true. I—I asked him to stop coming,” she replied softly, sadly.
Shocked, I stared at her for a moment, feeling guilty when I noticed the slight paleness to her skin and the way each breath seemed to hurt. Her light brown hair had been curled for the occasion, brushing past her shoulders, the red fabric of her dress hugging her skinny form. “Why would you do that?”
“You used to get so excited when he talked about that treasure. I just knew that if he kept coming and telling you those fanciful stories, one day you would go with him when he left. I didn't want that for you. There is so much more in store for you than spending your life trying to dig up something that doesn't exist.” Tears in her brown eyes suggested to me she'd only done what she thought was best, but in that moment I felt a rage like I'd never known toward her.
“But that wasn't your choice to make! If that's what I wanted to do, then you should have supported it! You’re always telling me that everyone should be free to make their own decisions, even if we don’t agree.” Hands balling into fists, I yelled at her, my own hot tears building up. “I spent years feeling like my own father didn't love me. And now, thanks to you, he probably doesn't, because he hasn't seen me! No wonder he didn't come to graduation!”
“I'm so sorry, Sam,” she said, her voice shaking as a single tear slid down her cheek. “I just didn't want you to—”
“What? Be like him? Would you hate me then, too?”
“I don't hate your father,” she snapped, a nerve obviously hit. “He's a good man. He was a good husband and father, too, before that pit entrapped him. He spent every dime we had trying to figure it out, and even after the money was gone, he kept going. It's a miracle our finances ever recovered. He’s the one who stopped spending time with us. He was obsessed. And he probably still is, since he's not found one thing of worth on that island, yet, just like all the men before him. It's not healthy! I was tired of being second best, of feeling unloved. Another woman didn’t replace me, I was replaced by a hole in the ground that people have tried to get to the bottom of for two hundred years. Can you really blame me for not wanting to stay with him? For not wanting you to be sucked in by that as well?”
Her chest heaved as she spoke and, fearfully, I suddenly realized how worked up she was becoming. Rant finished, she began coughing, and small flecks of blood came from her mouth. Hurrying to her side, I help
ed her to lie down, grabbing a bottle of water from the bedside table and offering it.
“I'm sorry.” I cried softly as she drank. “I don't know what came over me. I’m just upset with him, I guess. I feel a lot like you said—like the pit is more important than me.”
“It's not,” she said, placing her palm against my face. “You’re the most important person I've ever had the privilege of knowing. There are great things in store for you, Sam. I'm proud of you.”
She lived for another four years, just long enough to see me graduate from our local university. I thought she was still in remission, but it turned out she’d known the sickness was back for a year and refused to go through chemo again. Instead of telling me, she planned a two-week vacation to Hawaii that September and invited me along.
“Samantha Greene, you’re the most beautiful woman on the beach.” She laughed, watching as I tried to build a sandcastle.
“Whatever,” I scoffed, shoveling more wet dirt into the childish pail. “If anything, you are. All anyone ever tells me is how much I look like you, therefore, you are the prettiest one here.”
She laughed, long and hard, until the terrible, hacking cough I knew so well started. When she uncovered her mouth, there was blood on her hand.
“Mom?” I couldn't even stand to ask the question, but I didn't have to. The answer was in her eyes.
“Oh, Sammy,” she said mournfully, her voice catching. “I simply wanted to end with some happy memories.”
That February she was gone, like a whisper on the wind you thought you heard, but weren't really sure of. She was asleep in her bed and I'd gone to get myself a glass of water. As the liquid poured into my cup from the faucet, it was if the air in the house suddenly changed and I knew she'd left. Hurrying back to the room, I found her with a small smile on her face, her body finally spent from the battle it'd waged.