Chapter 14—Is It A Prophetic Dream Or An Illusion?

Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes ... just be an illusion.

Javan

Bella's POV

The pain and anguish I'd held inside for two years came pouring out. Jacob never let me grieve for my parents, didn't let me go to their funeral, and he sure as hell didn't let me visit their graves. And here I was wrapped in Edward's arms, crying.

"As soon we can, I'll take you to Forks and to the cemetery to visit your parents," Edward whispered. "If you want me to, I'll help you consecrate their graves."

It was exhausting and freeing to finally cry—to mourn. The longer I wept, the harder it was to keep my eyes open.

I walked up the front walk toward the front door, noticing the porch light wasn't on. The living room light was on, so I didn't think much about the porch light.

There was a crunching sound under my feet. Looking down, I saw glass and the newspaper. Where did that come from? Glancing up, the light bulb filament was glowing. Dad was going to have to get on the paperboy again.

I entered the house, and it was a mess. Mom's favorite crystal vase was shattered, and there was a puddle of water on the floor. What in the world?

My gaze shifted to the stairs. Someone was lying face down there, a dark stain visible on his shirt. Moving quickly to the foot of the stairs, I rolled the person over. It was—Edward. I screamed.

Edward's POV

Bella cried herself to sleep in my arms, and I couldn't bring myself to leave the sanctuary of the altar room. It was peaceful and far away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. This morning was the first time in ages that I'd sought out this room.

After placing Bella on the daybed, I moved to the shelves of books. There had to be a book in my collection about death rituals. I knew that the rites could still be done, but how to conduct them I wasn't too sure about.

After searching several books' indexes, I found a reference to different ceremonies. All the ceremonies had two things in common: the physical body was not necessary—only the spirit was necessary—and an altar. As I read each, they all said that Samhain was the best time to hold the service.

A groan escaped me. Samhain was last day of October, and it was mid-September. I would need to speak with Bella about creating a memorial shrine to her parents and then blessing them during Samhain.

Reading once again through each ritual, I made a list of supplies: autumn-colored candles, black stones, autumn leaves, incense, and wood for a bonfire. Of course, there were certain foods and drinks associated with the holiday. Even though Ms. Cope didn't know I was a witch, she knew the Halloween snacks I preferred and would do the shopping.

I was at the work table, crushing herbs, when Bella screamed.

Dropping the pestle, I rushed to find out what was wrong. As I rounded the corner of a bookcase, I saw Bella was fighting the blanket. She screamed again, shooting straight up on the daybed, eyes wide open and gasping for breath.

Not wanting to scare her more, I approached the bed slowly and kneeled down. "Bella?"

She turned her head, and an instant later, she threw her arms around me. "It wasn't real," she muttered.

What wasn't real? I wanted to ask as I wrapped my arms around her, but Bella was still muttering.

"I thought they had killed you."

Oh no! Did she have a nightmare or a prophetic dream? Neither was good, but a nightmare would be better. Nightmares were far easier to combat. "I'm okay, love," I whispered, rubbing her back. "It was only a nightmare."

She nodded and pulled away from me. "Yes, a nightmare. They always seem so real."

It had always helped me to talk about the nightmare with Mom. Maybe Bella would like that too. "Would you like to talk about it?" I asked, thinking that if she did, then I could call Mom for her.

I wasn't prepared for when she started telling me, but I listened.

"I had been dropped off at home after a spending time in Port Angeles with my best friend," she said. "When I entered the house, it was a mess—not something my mom allowed to happen … ever. It was always in order and clean, but looked lived in at the same time. Anyway, there was someone lying face down on the stairs."

I placed my finger on her lips, silencing her. Hating myself for what I was about to ask, I said, "That night, did you rollover anyone to see who it was?"

She shook her head.

I closed my eyes, letting out a breath. "Have you ever seen something before it happened?"

"I felt things were going to happen, but I've never seen it in a dream."

Opening my eyes again, I found myself staring into her brown eyes. "No prophetic dreams?"

"No. My mom used to have them, so there is a chance I could have one."

Please let it be just a nightmare, I thought. "It was just a nightmare."

Bella remained quiet, but her gazed drifted to the room beyond me.

I looked over my shoulder to see what had caught Bella's eye—a collection of crystals and gemstones. "I don't mind," I said.

She gasped and looked at me again. "That's forbidden. Only you should use the tools in this room."

Bella was right. It wouldn't be good to mix vibrations in a crystal. "Did you have any magical tools?"

"Yes, but I'm sure they've been contaminated."

"All right. Time to go shopping."

When we reached the foyer, Ms. Cope was letting in three delivery men. I wasn't expecting anything. Warning bells went off in my mind, and I threw up a shield concealing Bella. "Stay near me," I whispered, barely moving my lips.

"I'm sure Mr. Cullen will want to know who the sender is," Ms. Cope said as she signed the delivery receipt.

"This label says 'Ian McGregor,' and the other says 'Maggie Munroe,'" a scrawny young man answered.

"I don't know anyone named Maggie Munroe," I said, making my presence known.

Ms. Cope turned. "The packages are for Lady McCullough," she said, giving me a questioning look—one that asked who's that?

"Uh … Know anyone from Crail, Scotland?" the scrawny young man asked.

"I do," I answered.

"That's where the one from Maggie came from," he said.

"She was my nanny from when I lived there," Bella whispered, her breath causing me to shiver.

"Very well. I'll deal with them when I return," I said, heading toward the main garage and my Cadillac ATS.

Once safely inside the garage, I removed the concealment spell as I opened the passenger door. Bella looked at me for a moment and then slipped into the car, a smile planted on her face.

I wasn't sure what caused her smile—that we were going out or that I protected her from possible harm—and I wasn't fool enough to ask.

A/N: I know this is a short chapter, and that it was a long wait. I had to do some research before writing it. And, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Wiccan faith, I'd like to share some of what I learned.

Samhain (pronounced "sow-en", aka Halloween) is when the Veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is thinnest, which makes it possible to communicate with our loved ones on the other side. (From a site about Wicca spirituality)

In Northern hemisphere, Samhain is celebrated from sunset on October 31 to sunset November 1. (Wikipedia: Samhain)

Pestle: a tool for pounding or grinding substances in a mortar.

Mortar: a receptacle of hard material, having a bowl-shaped cavity in which substances are reduced to powder with a pestle.

A witch, never shares their crystals, stones, and other altar tools with anyone. They can been given as presents. Their magical tools and crystals should only contain their vibrations along with those of the universe.

Finally, thanks to my wonderful betas.