CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When the door opens on Renée, it's hard to miss the fact that we're in the presence of a witch. Dressed in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket, she's not what comes to mind when you think witch. But beyond her tough exterior is something a normal person might miss - the glow she emanates. Like silver wisps of smoke, it swirls and churns just under her skin, coalescing every now and then to form symbols on her hands, face, chest, and presumably other parts of her body hidden beneath clothing. The symbols strike me instantly as not belonging to this world - whirling, fantastical patterns, sometimes curved and intricate, other times straight and jagged. And just as I see them, they disperse beneath her skin, the silver remnants travelling to other parts of her body.

It's mesmerising. Not to mention her curled white hair and ink black eyes. All together, she looks otherworldly.

"Renée," Ethel says, having opened the door. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Renée nods. "Just paying my debts." Her voice has an ethereal quality, as though it's straight out of a dream.

"Of course. Come on inside."

Renée gracefully steps over the threshold to the house and Ethel closes the door behind her. Her eyes pass over those of us still seated at the dining table, the sun setting out the window. Her gaze snags on Scott, and her demeanour suddenly changes, growing colder. "Scott," she says, acknowledging him with a nod.

He nods back. "Renée." He doesn't meet her eyes.

Ethel comes to stand beside Renée. "This is Melissa," she says, gesturing towards me.

Renée's black eyes flick to mine, and I get the oddest sensation, as though I'm diving head-first into a dark abyss. After a moment - although it feels as though it's been at least several minutes - she says, "Come over here."

I look to Ethel uncertainly. She just nods, so I get to my feet and walk around the table to Renée.

"Your hand," she says. I hold it out. Her fingers are warm to the touch and not cold like I assumed they'd be - like most otherworldly things are. She frowns, her eyes taking on a far-away look. A moment later, she lets go and I let my hand fall back to my side.

"Okay," she says, stepping back. "Where do we want to do this?"

Ethel gestures behind her. "Will the lounge room do?"

"That will be fine," Renée replies, heading off.

"I'll help you set up," Ethel says. And then to me: "Stay here. I'll get you when she's ready."

After they've both disappeared around the corner, I turn back to the table. "Tea?" Katherine asks the group.

"Actually, I should be heading off," Scott says, already standing. He puts on his coat. "Keep me informed?"

Katherine nods. "Of course."

"I'll probably go too, then," David says, grabbing his things. He passes by me on his way to the door. "It was nice to meet you, Melissa."

"You too," I say courteously.

It's like a mass exodus. When both of them have left, the house feels a lot more spacious. I take a seat back at the table, the blonde woman across from me texting on her phone. It takes me a moment to realise why the house suddenly feels so deeply empty - and when I do, it sends a sharp pang of hurt straight to my heart.

Caden.

I look to Katherine. "I think I'll have that tea, thanks," I say.

Katherine smiles. "Coming right up."

-:-:-:-:-

Not long after, Ethel gestures for me to come into the lounge room. Wrapping my fingers around my mug of steaming tea, I follow her.

Inside, all the curtains have been shut, flooding the room with darkness. The only light comes from a few thin candles placed on the coffee table - and from Renée herself, whose swirling patterned skin glows silver. There are bunch of vials and tools laying on the table and she arranges them carefully, cleaning a sharp metal needle with a cloth. The air smells different too - like lavender and sage.

"Melissa," Renée says. "Why don't you take a seat on the lounge?"

I do as she says, careful not to bump anything, and place my tea on an empty spot on the table.

Renée sits down in a chair facing me, almost close enough for our knees to touch. "Feel free to stay Ethel. I'm sure Melissa would prefer to have a familiar face in the room."

I look over at Ethel standing by the door. "My mother?" I ask. With Caden and Sarah gone, Katherine's the only person in the house I feel close too - and even that's a stretch. It feels like everyone I've ever known has gotten up and left.

She nods. "Of course. I'll bring her in."

When Ethel's left, Renée starts talking. "Before we start anything, I want to make sure you understand what this procedure will do and how it works." She rolls up her sleeve, holding up her arm so I get a clear view the swirling patterns on her skin. "What I'm going to do is give you one of my marks. Only temporarily of course, but while you bear it you will have a degree of influence over your visions. It will allow you to choose what you see. It doesn't, however, let you decide when your visions shall begin, only what they will be when they occur. Therefore, I will have to launch you into the first vision. I'll need you to trust me - it will feel a lot like being drugged."

I just nod.

Renée leans to her left and picks up a vial filled with a slightly blue-tinted liquid. "This here is a special concoction - nothing harmful, I promise you. When you drink it, it allows you to temporarily bear one of my marks." She unscrews the lid and hands it to me. Tentatively, I take it from her.

Just then, Katherine enters the room, Ethel following her in. Katherine takes a seat on the couch opposite me and nods, while Ethel perches on the lounge arm. I put the vial to my lips and empty it into my mouth. It tastes like how I imagine cleaning products to taste; I gag.

Renée smiles. "Yes, unfortunately it doesn't taste all that nice." She takes back the vial, setting it aside. "Now for the transfer. And just a warning - it might burn a little."

She places two fingers to the skin of her inner forearm and closes her eyes. As I watch, the silver glow churning beneath her skin gathers at her fingers, looping around and around itself until it begins to form a symbol. When the symbol is completed and glowing steadily, she lifts her fingers. Amazingly, it lifts off her skin and into the air before me.

"Hold out your arm," she says, her eyes still closed. I do as she says. When her fingers touch my skin, they feel like hot coals and I have to resist the urge to pull away. A moment later she draws back, opening her eyes. The symbol - a complex tangle of swirls and lines - remains shimmering on my inner wrist.

Without looking, Renée says, "Ethel."

Ethel leaves her spot by the couch and approaches us, crouching gracefully before me. "Alright, Melissa. You probably already know this, but before all else, we need to know what that first prophecy was. Investigations about possible seers or Lauren can come after. Right now, we need you to focus on that."

I bite my lip, nodding. Renée recaptures my attention. "The way this works Melissa, is you hold what you desire to see in mind and force the vision in that direction. If your mind strays for even a second, you could end up seeing something entirely different. It's important, therefore, that your mind is clear of everything except that you wish to see."

"But how do I hold it in my mind if I don't know what it is? I haven't seen this prophecy before."

"It's the intention. As long as your intention is unshakable, you'll see what you need. The mark will do the rest."

I let out a breath. "Okay."

Renée pulls out a syringe. The liquid inside it is black like tar. "I'm going to inject this straight into your blood stream. That way the effects will be immediate."

"This is the drug one, right?"

"It will induce a vision," she replies, nodding. "Are you ready for this?"

I look over at Katherine. Her lips spread into a quick, small smile before returning to normal. I breathe in and out, trying to soothe my suddenly racing pulse. I shouldn't be afraid; it's not like I haven't had any visions before.

"I'm ready," I say and hold out my arm, still glowing with the silver mark. Renée takes it, injecting the needle into a vein. It barely stings as the black liquid slides into my bloodstream. Before I know it, she's pulled out the syringe.

I look back up at the three of them, waiting. "I thought you said this would be- "

And just like that, I lose my hold on reality. The darkness rushes in and takes me; all at once, I slip away.

-:-:-:-:-

In the moments before the vision comes, when it's just the darkness and myself, I do as Renée said, clearing my mind and focusing intently on one thing - the first prophecy. Slowly, colours appear in the gloom and the vision takes shape.

Very quickly, I realise it's not the vision I wanted.

I'm an outside observer. Sarah stands in a laneway lined by garage doors of various colours and states of disrepair as the last of sun drops below the horizon.

She isn't alone. Someone else stands in the late afternoon shadow cast by the garages.

"You can help," Sarah says to the shadow. It's half a statement, half a question. "Because I don't know what's happening to me. I can't - I can't control it."

They take a step towards her. She steps quickly back. "Don't. I don't trust you, not yet. Not after last time." She pauses. "Why did you run?"

The person takes another step, and their face is illuminated by the last rays of sun. I get a jolt, everything in me recoiling in shock.

It's my father. The one I grew up with. It's Thomas.

"Inconsequential," he tells her. "But I can help. There's so much more you can do. You've barely scratched the surface."

"And I can trust you?"

"Sarah, we are the same. The same blood, the same abilities, the same beliefs. I would never betray you."

"Like you did Melissa?"

He stares at her for a moment, his face unreadable. "Melissa was nothing to me," he deadpans, with that same familiar voice. The voice that cracked jokes when I was younger, that told stories and made me laugh, that comforted and supported me.

Even Sarah seems disturbed by this revelation, moving back a little farther. I can see her thoughts as though they're scrolling across her forehead: Who is this man? she's thinking. How can one be so cruel?

"Sarah," Thomas says, "there is danger coming. If you are with those friends of yours when it strikes, I fear you may not survive."

"I think I'll take my chances," she says, turning away.

He reaches out for her, grabbing her wrist. "Join me. I can help you control your abilities. I can offer you the family you deserve."

Sarah doesn't pull back. She stares at him, as if she's considering it, and the vision fades away.

The darkness returns in a rush. I try again to focus on the first prophecy, but my mind is crowded with emotions and thoughts, still in shock at what I just witnessed. I think, Which one was it? Past, future, or present?

The next vision comes all at once.

A man steps out of a vehicle. It's night out and the clouds glow orange, illuminated by the thousands of city lights. He heads for a building that towers into the sky, the dark night reflected in it's glass exterior. Someone is waiting for him at the door.

"Sir," they say with a nod.

"Bring up my stuff," the man replies.

"Of course, sir."

The man enters the building. It's modern, with vast marble floorings and high, white walls. A chandelier hangs from the mirrored ceiling.

There's a receptionist desk in front of him. He walks straight past, and the receptionist hurries along after him.

"Sir, I haven't instructed you on where to go."

"I know the way, Miss Bouvior."

She seems shocked at the use of her name and falters. After a moments consideration, she returns to her desk.

The man, dressed in a black suit and black shirt, presses for the elevator. It takes only a moment for it to arrive, and he steps inside, shooting up to the top-most level.

When the doors open, he's greeted by yet another receptionist. "Welcome to city office, sir," she says.

He doesn't reply, turning left down a wide hallway. At the end is a set of double glass doors. He swipes a card and pushes them open with both hands, striding into the large room beyond. It's filled with cubicles, each with a desk, chair and computer. At this time of night, they're all empty. He keeps walking.

On the far wall, there's a door made of frosted glass. He swipes again, and the door slides open to reveal an office. It's bare, the skeletal framework awaiting files and folders, boxes and trinkets. The glass desk is positioned in front of a large floor to ceiling window, overlooking almost all of the city.

And at the desk sits a man - a man I recognise: Patrick. He stands up when the stranger enters the room.

"Patrick," the man says by way of greeting.

He smirks. "Keon."

They shake hands, and I sink back into darkness.

The darkness is different this time - thicker, heavier. I feel as though I'm drowning in it with every breath. It takes all my strength to focus on something and when a vision starts to emerge, I face it not knowing where I will find myself.

The last of the dark evaporates, leaving behind a shadowed room, the walls coated in patterned wallpaper. A brunette woman sits in a wooden chair, dressed finely in a nineteenth century gown. Looking around, I realise the entire room is straight out of the nineteenth century - gas lamps, black and white pictures in ornate frames, a dresser with antique perfumes and other eccentricities. I reach out to touch the wall, almost afraid that I've been transported to another era; it all feels so real. But of course, I'm not truly there, and nothing happens.

Looking over at the women again, I see that her eyes are closed. Beneath her lids, her eyes roll around and around, as though she's dreaming. Her face is set in a permanent frown. Not minutes later, she awakes with a gasp, gripping tightly onto the arms of her chair. Her breathing erratic, she calls out, "John!"

A man in a black waist coat and trousers hurries into the room. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The woman pulls out a piece of paper and a fountain pen and starts drawing. "It has come," she says. "I've received the vision."

John's eyes grow wide. "Are you sure it's the one?"

She stops drawing just long enough to look him in the eyes and confirm it. "Indeed. I have seen the end."

"And?" he says. "What happens? When is it to occur?"

The woman doesn't answer him, caught up in her frantic scribbling. A few minutes later, she finally puts down her pen. Exhaling, she stands up and hands the paper to him. He looks down with a frown. "What is this?"

"The prophecy."

I draw closer, aiming to get a look at the paper. But suddenly, everything starts changing. The colours fade away and the scene slowly crumbles apart, details vanishing before my eyes - the wallpaper turning blank, the objects on the dresser disappearing before the dresser itself vanishes, walls, floor and ceiling evaporating into thin air.

The vision collapses in on itself, and I make a final leap for the paper, desperate to catch a glimpse. It dissolves just before I reach it, and I tumble head-first into the void.