Free T*Witches: Kindred Spirits by H.B. Gilmour, Randi Reisfeld Page A

Was Cam saying, “Wait, no … stop?”
    The shrill ringing stopped abruptly. Into the gap of silence roared something frightening and familiar: someone — or something — groaning in pain, begging to be set free. The wounded beast that had raced toward Ileana’s house! It seemed to be directly below her, underground. And she smelled again the noxious stench of fear, fur, and blood, which someone had tried to cover up nauseatingly with cologne.
    Cam had tried to warn Alex, but she, too, was paralyzed. An icy chill swirled around her. She panted and shivered, goose bumps raised on her arms. And as always when she was about to have a vision, everything blurred, then all at once, came into sharp focus.
    Cam saw a dark tunnel, thick stone walls sweating with moisture, grottoes formed into the walls. And some kind of sleek, furry animal trapped, being taunted by frightening figures.
    The caves! The caves Shane had said ran under much of the island, that’s what she was seeing.
    The next sensation Cam felt was her twin’s hand squeezing hers. The vision faded.
    Unnerved, sweating in the cold darkness, Cam was ready to bolt for the second time that night. “We can’t go in here,” she whispered unsteadily. “That was a warning.”
    “And?” Alex challenged, shaking off her fear, advancing toward the doors.
    “And maybe we should heed it!” Cam swallowed. “Or at least come back in the morning.”
    “When what? You can have the same vision in the daylight? Leave your wuss cap at the cellar door. Get a grip and help me open this.”
    “I’m not being a wuss!” Cam declared. “In case you’re not counting, this is the second warning we got tonight!”
    Alex put her hands on her hips. “Oh, please. That lame poison trail trick was a prank meant to frighten us. Big whoop. What we just experienced was a sign. Karsh taught us that. They tell us what we have to do.”
    “That someone needs us,” Cam conceded. She did not want to be needed, not now, not here on Coventry Island. “Alex, we’re not ready,” she pleaded, wanting more than ever to go —
    “Home.” Alex finished her thought. “This is it, Cam-a-lot. Our real home. And whatever’s waiting for us inside, or underneath it, ready or not — here we come.”

CHAPTER NINE
    LUNASOLEIL
    They descended the set of rickety steps into the basement. It was pitch-black and, save for the creaking sounds they made coming down, absolutely still.
    And absolutely wrong.
    The house had been boarded up, left sunless, bereft, barren, abandoned. Just the shell remained, testimony to the lively, joyous haven it once had been.
    So why did Alex detect a mix of ammonia and some kind of wood polish, as if it had been cleaned recently? Cam’s eyes, adjusting easily to the dark, confirmed it: not a cobweb or dust ball in sight. Someone had secretly been taking care of this house, and had gone to some trouble to hide the entrance.
    This basement, which might have been used for storage, was empty now. A lonely narrow staircase in the far corner led upstairs.
    That, too, seemed wrong. The vision Cam had just had, the cries Alex had just heard had come from
under
the earth, not above it.
    Cam scanned the wooden floor, then searched for some kind of hidden opening in the walls. Nothing so far.
    She was interrupted by the sound of Alex-the-impatient bounding upstairs. In a flash, she was at the top — frozen, terrified of crossing the threshold into the main living area. Cam hurried up beside her. Together they gently opened the door.
    Instantly, they were bathed in a warm, comforting, welcoming feeling. It was, Cam would describe it later, like being in a house of worship: sacred and safe, separated and protected from the outside world. Like the strong embrace of a father, the nurturing arms of a mother. This was Aron and Miranda’s home.
    This, according to Karsh and Ileana, was where they had been born. The vast space they were staring at now must have been a warm wonderful