The pressure to figure it all out was a heavy weight on my chest. The stakes were too high and I’d sacrificed too much for me to fuck this up. And of course, the probability of fucking up was unusually high.
I sighed. If I made it off coven land without killing anyone or getting killed, I’d call it a win.
Chapter Eleven
When I’d finally worked up a sweat and my arms felt like two cooked spaghetti noodles, I popped down on the ground for savasana. The small area rug did little to stop the loose floorboards from poking me in the back. After a second, my breath was back to normal. I rolled off the rug and lay down on bed.
Relaxing must’ve made me lower my guard. I wasn’t even aware that I’d opened myself up to a vision until a figure walked into the room.
The woman’s hair was heavily grayed at her temples, but the rest was dark as pitch. She had it bound in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her loose dress was vibrant pink. Brightly colored flowers were embroidered on the edges. A traditional Mexican dress. She looked straight at me and winked.
What? Could she see me? “Hello?” I sat up, but the figure didn’t respond.
Of course she couldn’t see me. This was a vision of something that happened a long time ago.
The woman knelt on the floor, setting down a brown leather book as she threw the carpet to the side. A teal-colored circular pattern was inked on the book cover.
I studied her face, trying to place her. The woman’s features were familiar, but not. She had to be family if she had free reign of the house…
It couldn’t be Grams, could it?
She slammed her hand on one end of a floorboard, and the other side popped up. Then she placed the little book into the hiding spot.
Finally, she looked up at me and winked.
I hopped off the bed. I waved a hand through her, and I knew it was a vision, but she’d looked straight at me. “Grams?”
She shook her head and pointed down at the floorboard.
Just as quickly as it started, the vision was gone. I was left standing in the guest room, alone.
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped to the ground, threw the rug to the side and popped up the floorboard.
Nothing. I couldn’t see anything except spiderwebs. Yuck. I really didn’t want to put my hand in there. Not even a little bit. But curiosity got the better of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and reached inside.
Still nothing.
I grabbed my cellphone from my bag and turned on the flashlight function. It was empty. There wasn’t a book in there anymore.
Why would I see that book if I wasn’t meant to find it? Or maybe it was a useless vision. Lord knew I had enough of those in my life.
But she’d looked straight at me. As if telling me to find that journal. No one had ever noticed me in a vision before. If someone had asked me if it were possible five minutes ago, I would’ve said no way. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“Tessa!” Claudia shouted from downstairs.
“Yeah?”
“Someone’s here to see you.”
For a second I got my hopes up that it was Dastien or Meredith, but I knew better. I’d have to look into finding the journal later. I straightened the rug back in place and headed downstairs.
“Daniel,” I said when I spotted the visitor. “What do you need?”
“I’m here to start your training.” He was wearing a pair of jeans and a pressed button-down. His hair was still wet from a shower, but I smelled a faint hint of cloves under his soap.
“Training?” I asked.
“Yup. Mom wants me to make sure you’re well versed in our ways. You’re not here for too long, so I figured it was better to get started on it sooner rather than later.”
Daniel was the guy that the coven—or maybe just Luciana—had wanted me to end up with. And apparently they still did. The brujos didn’t have mates like the pack did, but I’d bet my life that if Luciana could arrange my marriage to her son, she would. All the better to bind me to the coven.
I hoped Luciana wasn’t trying to manipulate some sort of relationship between us by sending him here. Because that so wasn’t going to happen.
This was perfect. Dastien wasn’t going to like this at all. “All right. Where do you want to work?”
“They have a room here for working craft. We’ll head that way.”
I nodded. “Okay.” He led me to a room down the hall behind the living room. When he opened the door, the first thing that hit me was the smell. So many different dried and burnt things. The room was dark. Only a small window opposite the door let in a little bit of light. The walls were painted black. Black counters topped the waist high cabinets that surrounded the room, and black-painted shelves took up every inch of wall space starting a foot on top of the counters. I wasn’t counting, but I guessed they held hundreds, if not thousands of glass bottles.
