Helen Neville sat alone in her room. She had always thought that silence didn't have a noise but that wasn't strictly true. It buzzed in the darkness and whispered from the shadows. She shivered in the cold and rose from the bed to retrieve her thick dressing gown from the back of the door.
Helen made the mistake of glancing at the bedside clock. It only made her worry more when Bea was out.
Nearly one o'clock in the morning. There was no wonder people thought she was a bad mother. At seventeen years old, Bea did what she wanted, when she wanted.
As soon as Helen pulled the gown onto her limbs, she felt warmer. December had been milder the last few years, but this week, snow had fallen from the sky on and off all week.
Sitting at the dressing table, she opened one of the small drawers. Reaching right to the back, Helen felt for the soft, velvety touch of the drawstring bag. Guilt rattled in her stomach as she pulled it out and dropped the pale blue band into her palm.
This was something she only ever did when Tom was away. She turned the ring over with her slender fingers. It was a simpler design than the one that now sat on her ring finger, the one that Tom had given her and yet it tore at her heart. The cold material touched the skin on her palm for only seconds before she shoved it back into the bag to be hidden once more.
Just like the life she had left behind.
She'd spent the last decade and a half convincing herself that one day she will throw it away. But again she had failed, today was not that day.
A crash sounded from downstairs.
"Bea?"
No answer.
Leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom, she went to investigate. Relief struck her when she found her daughter standing in a blaze of light from the open refrigerator door, drinking orange juice straight from the carton. It looked like Bea had turned on every light in the house and with a thudding of her heart, Helen knew why.
"Bea, thank the Goddess. I've been so worried. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I can tell the time, thanks Helen." She put the carton back and slammed the door.
"Please don't call me that. I'm your mother. Where the hell have you been? Kickboxing finished hours ago."
"Chill out, will you? I was with Sam and as you can see, I'm fine."
"Sam? Who is Sam? See, I know nothing about you. Why don't you talk to me? Please, Bea." Helen clutched her dressing gown where it gaped at the neck. This was never the sort of relationship she wanted to have with her daughter. She'd imagined cosy talks in front of the television as they watched a programme they both loved or going shopping together and giving each other advice about what suited them. But there had been none of that. Bea had built a wall around herself at twelve and no-one had managed to breach it since.
Helen reached out and tried to grab Bea's hand but she shook her off.
"I'm going to bed," Bea snapped. "And I think you should too. You look like hell."
Bea grabbed her gym kit, barged past Helen and went upstairs.
"I haven't finished with you yet!" Helen followed her. But Bea had already closed the door in her face. "Bea, Beatrix. Just talk to me baby, please. That's all I ask." Helen slumped against the wall, deflated. Another battle lost. There was no point going to bed yet, she wouldn't sleep. Instead, she remembered there was still the washing up left over from tea to be done. With one last wistful look upon the barrier between her and Bea, she headed downstairs.
The water heated her frozen fingers and for a moment or two she held them still beneath the surface. It wasn't until minutes later she picked up the first plate. She caught her reflection in the window opposite. Even her ghostly twin mirrored the dark bags under her eyes and the drained pallid skin. A shower and makeup were very much needed before Bea woke up.
Helen took hold of a glass she'd just washed and held it up. In the light, she inspected every inch of the shimmering surface.
Something moved beyond it, beyond the darkened window pane.
Then she saw it, a face in the window staring back at her as if someone were standing directly behind her. Helen's heart leapt into her throat, almost choking her.
The glass slipped from her fingers. It plummeted to the floor with a deafening crash amplified by the stome floor.
Helen spun so fast on her heels that she felt dizzy. "What are you doing here?" She managed to breathe through gritted teeth.
"As if you don't know. I'm here for my granddaughter. It is time for Beatrix to return to the coven."
"No." Helen hurled the washing sponge back into the sink before bending down to pick up the shattered pieces. There was glass everywhere.
"Let me help," the woman said. A star shaped scare blazed red on her cheek. She rolled up the sleeves of her jumper.
Helen hastily put up a hand in protest. "I do not need your help, Caroline. This is a you-know-what free household."
"Caroline? Not even mother now? Looks like you and my granddaughter are more alike than you think."
If Helen did not know better then she would have sworn she saw Caroline's face fall, but if it had, it was gone again just as quickly. "Mothers don't banish their children. I would never banish Bea."
"I see you are still angry about that. It has been fourteen years, Helen. I have to say, you can certainly hold a grudge. That's your father's side." Her eyes were a strange colour. An unnatural colour, like the pale blue of a Robin's egg.
"You're not taking her. She's having nothing to do with it. Any of it."
Caroline gave a low laugh. "That's not your choice as well you know. You're doing her an injustice. She turns eighteen in the next couple of weeks..."
Helen raised a brow. Of course she wouldn't know when her own granddaughter's birthday was. That would mean caring.
"My point is," Caroline continued. "She is already past the age of maturity for a witch and if she doesn't get training soon, her powers will consume her. A girl belongs to her coven, you know the rules but more importantly, she's going to need us."
Helen leaned back against the kitchen counters, eyes downcast. "Fine."
"Fine? You will allow her to come to us?"
"Yes but only when Tom returns home. I want the time between now and then to speak to her, prepare her. And to say goodbye."
"The coven will respect your wishes."
"Now will you leave?"
Caroline nodded and when Helen looked up, she'd gone. Vanished as though she was made of air and smoke, and of course part of her was.
Minutes went by, a few, several. Helen couldn't tell, but after however long it had been, the first thing she did was dash for her phone. It seemed to ring for an eternity.
"Pick up. Pick up. Please pick up."
"Hello? Helen? Everything okay?" Tom's voice was groggy, heavy with sleep.
"Not really," Helen muttered, holding back the tears. "She found us again. We need to leave."
YOU ARE READING
THE HAUNTING OF BEA NEVILLE
Paranormal**Part of BREAKING SHADOWS UNIVERSE** Bea Neville has always had an unusual ability; she can see and communicate with ghosts. But as a 17-year-old, she has never understood why she has this power. When Bea's mother is kidnapped leaving no trace, she...
