Emily whirled around to see the gaunt woman. She was freshly dressed in a ceremonial red robe with intricate embroidery patterns. She held a cup of coffee in one hand, which she handed to Emily.
Emily felt the urge to hug the woman. The cup of coffee was the only thing that held her back.
“Aunt Anastacia!”
The woman smiled. It was a motherly kind of smile. She’d always had that smile for Emily. However, for the first time, Emily appreciated it.
“You were in my room?” Emily asked, remembering the weird experience she’d had of sensing Aunt Anastacia soothing her through the nightmares.
Her aunt nodded.
“That tune . . . ,” Emily muttered. A memory of Mom came unbidden into her mind. One of the many times she’d had a nightmare, and Mom had sung to her.
“It was taught to us by our mother,” Aunt Anastacia explained. “You see, Mom was a witch, too. Although she didn’t even know for a loooong time. The curse of the two siblings came from our father’s lineage, but Mom was a witch who brought some of the blessings into our family. Like the bond that existed and exists with your mother and me.”
Emily frowned. “Exists?”
Aunt Anastacia nodded. “She might be dead, but she’s still very much with us.”
“Are you saying I can talk to my mother?” Emily felt her heart rate peak.
Aunt Anastacia’s eyes were teary now. She had a slight smile on her face as she nodded in the affirmative.
Emily felt a cold rush through her body. The thought that she could get a chance to take back all the nasty things she said to her mother the night she had died . . . Emily swallowed hard.
“How long before they break through the internal barriers?” Michael poked his head into the doorway leading to the library. His voice broke Emily out of her reverie. She glanced behind Aunt Anastacia at her brother. He had a chunk of food in his mouth he was munching like a llama. He held a book in his hand. Behind him, Dad was seated at the chair absorbed in a book of his own.
“Twelve hours, if we’re lucky,” answered Aunt Anastacia without turning.
“Twelve hours?” Michael seemed impressed. “How did you accomplish it?”
Anastacia fought back the urge to grin. “Maybe one day, when you become a master rove like your aunty, you might be able to do such a thing.”
Emily was shocked to see the grin of excitement and pride flash across Michael’s face before he vanished out of the doorway.
“What did I miss?” asked Emily.
Aunt Anastacia chuckled. “Good work giving him the book about the history of magic,” she said. “It set him straight on how the supernatural race isn’t all bad.”
“Just like that?” asked Emily, astonished. She’d been expecting a greater resistance from Michael about accepting who he really was. It had taken Emily months to come to terms with Selena. Now that the fire demon was around, maybe it would take her months more to come to terms with the newest stubborn presence.
“Yeah.” Aunt Anastacia smiled slyly. “Never underestimate the power of a good book. Come.” She directed Emily to the living room, where a table had already been prepared for her.
21
Aunt Anastacia waved her hands above the food, and instantly, it was steaming again. “Eat and gain your strength. Our battle is about to begin.”
As if to underscore what she’d said, a terrible shudder rocked through the building. The Alfreds were at it again.
Emily didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. Nor did she look up at Aunt Anastacia and ask about the consistent battering of the house or how she’d magically warmed her food up again. She just leaned in and started eating.
It was a bit inconvenient. As large as the cottage was (on the inside), it didn’t have a dining room. Yeah, sure, it had a library, but not a dining room. Apparently, the rove didn’t think eating was as important as the pursuit of knowledge.
Consequently, Emily had to bend over the small stool every time she wanted to take a bite of her bacon-and-cheese omelette. There was a mug of chocolate milk—add that to the cup of coffee Aunt Anastacia had given her earlier. Aunt Anastacia wanted to pump Emily with enough caffeine to keep her attentive.
Emily sighed. They had a big battle coming up.
Even as she ate, and as she listened to the steady batter—it was as if a wrecking ball was coming down hard on the wall consistently—she knew that the moment the barrier came down, it was war.
The fight was real. It made her antsy.
And as she became more anxious, she found it difficult to eat. She looked up for a bit to see Aunt Anastacia sitting in the armchair and looking intently at her. Emily was a bit taken aback by the solid stare and the intensity of her gaze.
Aunt Anastacia had that look in her eyes—as if she was considering a very complex scenario—a cross between concentration and determination. She sat cross-legged, her hands forming a steeple under her chin. The early afternoon sun bathed her in a golden glow, and her youth was almost startling—considering that only twelve hours earlier, she was a bent old woman.
Emily stopped eating for a moment. “Aunt?” she stuttered.
Aunt Anastacia murmured something unintelligible. Emily first thought it was a spell. When nothing happened, Emily questioned her, “Is everything okay?”
“No, Emily, everything is not okay.” Aunt Anastacia rolled her eyes. “We have three powerful roves outside trying to break down the house. We don’t have nearly enough magic between us to defeat them . . .”
Emily nodded. She was beginning to feel a sense of dread. “Surely, you’ve thought of this. There has to be a way. How about the thing you mentioned earlier? The contingency plan?”
“The tunnel through the land of the dead.” Aunt Anastacia shook her head, but she didn’t need to. Emily knew the moment she heard the phrase that that
