Catalpa's Curse

by Terri Reid

  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I had no idea this shelter was taken. I’ll go…”

  She started to turn, but he placed his hand on her rain-soaked arm. “Stay,” he pleaded. “I’ll leave if you’re uncomfortable. But I want you to stay.”

  A flash of lightning illuminated the inside of the shelter, and Cat jumped closer to him. She looked over her shoulder at the storm and then back into his face. “I suppose that answers that,” she said with a shy smile. “I think we are both staying.”

  A reluctant smile grew on his face. “I guess we are,” he agreed.

  “I’m Cat…”

  “I know who you are,” he interrupted.

  Her smile vanished immediately, and she sighed. “Oh,” she said sadly. “Well, then I suppose you think I’m some kind of freak.”

  “No,” he said with a casual shrug. “Unless you think I’m some kind of freak.”

  He pointed to a small pile of leaves and twigs, and suddenly a wisp of smoke ascended from them. A moment later, a fire was burning, sending its warmth in Cat’s direction.

  “You’re a…” she began, astonished.

  “A witch,” he replied with a smile. “Well, I guess I’m officially a warlock. I’m Donovan. Donovan Farrington. And you’re Catalpa Willoughby.”

  She nodded.

  He reached out and wiped some of the rain drops from her face. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her eyes widened in surprise.

  “And I think that you’re the most beautiful girl in the school,” he whispered.

  Cat pulled her hand away from the stone as if she had been burned. She sat on the ground of the shelter, wrapped her arms around her legs, and wept for the love that might have been.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finias waited until he heard Katie locking the front door before rising from his chair and glancing surreptitiously out his bedroom window. He watched Katie cross the parking lot and get into her small pickup truck, with the name of the Bed and Breakfast emblazoned on the side of the bed. He waited until she’d left the parking lot and drove down the street. Then, once she’d turned left at the light two blocks away, he felt safe enough to turn away from the window.

  He hurried from his room and down to the end of the hall on the second floor. Sure enough, the door to the third floor Katie had mentioned was there, locked and secure. He examined the lock and smiled. It was aluminum and therefore did not contain iron which was an element that bound witches’ abilities. He closed his hand around the lock and concentrated for a moment. The lock sprung open almost immediately.

  He slipped the lock from inside the staple and placed it on a small side table in the hallway. Then he carefully opened the hasp, smiling as he noted that the door hardware was stainless steel and did contain iron. However, all he had to do was move it on its hinge for it to be rendered useless. No magic involved there.

  Once the hasp was open, he turned the black porcelain knob on the door and slowly opened the door to the third floor.

  Dust motes hung in the air as sunbeams worked their way through a threadbare curtain and grimy window. He looked at the wooden steps before him; they seemed stable enough. Ascending carefully, he tested each step as he went, holding on to the peeling handrail just in case.

  When he reached the third floor, he stopped and closed his eyes, reaching inside himself to discern any abnormal energies around him. After a moment, he opened his eyes and walked to the double door at the end of the hallway. The doors had been painted white, but now the paint was peeling and exposing the original wood. A chain was looped through the two door handles, and the chain was padlocked together. He picked up the lock and shook his head, steel this time. Then he looked at the chain and smiled; it was made of aluminum links. He slid his hand down to the middle of the chain, closed his eyes to concentrate, and the link opened in his hand. He unthreaded the chain from around the handles and pulled the door open.

  Immediately, he was struck sideways by an invisible force and thrown across the large, all white room. He slammed into the wall and then jumped up, holding his hands in front of him for protection, gazing slowly around the room to find his attacker.

  “Finias,” the voice hissed, like an old snake. “My old friend.”

  “We were never friends,” Finias replied, keeping himself on alert as he continued to scan the room to discern the source of the power.

  “What a shame,” the voice replied. “I could have made you rich. I could have given you whatever you desired.”

  “You know nothing of what I desire,” Finias replied. “And you never have.”

  “You desire what all men desire,” the demon mocked. “Money, power, and sex. That is how you were created, to lust after those basic needs.”

  “I’m afraid you are speaking about yourself,” Finias said coolly. “Well, except for the sex part. It’s kind of hard to have sex when you don’t have a body.”

  Finias felt a slight movement of wind and was able to protect himself before the blow came. But even with the protection, he staggered back against the wall.

  “When I kill those witches, I’ll take your body, Finias,” the demon threatened. “But I’ll keep your spirit inside with me, so you can see the terror I will create with it. And after we kill them, perhaps we can go after others. How do you feel about children, Finias? Shall we start with some of them?”

  Finias tamped down the rage building inside of him; the anger would only give the creature more power. He took a deep breath and moved away from the wall, slowly walking the perimeter of the room.

  “I don’t plan on allowing you to kill those witches,” Finias explained, as he allowed his mind to continue to search the room.

  “I hadn’t planned on asking your permission,” the demon answered. “However, if you would consider partnering with me…”

  Finias chuckled softly, still walking slowly around the room, to pinpoint the location of the power. “I understand you already have a partner,” he replied. “A young witch, much younger than me.”

  “How do you know that?” the demon seethed.

  Finias stopped walking, now secure in his knowledge of the location of the energy. An old pipe about five feet above the floor, probably left there from when gas was used to light the old house, was the portal the demon was using to gain his entrance.

  “You know who I am, and you know my abilities,” Finias said, hoping to continue to distract the creature until he was ready. “Do you think I would enter a location without understanding who my allies and my foes were?”

  “The young witch is weak,” the demon replied. “He does not have the bloodlust I need for a true partner.”

  “I’m sure, at your hands, he will learn it,” Finias said sadly.

  Finias raised his hands and focused his power on the small pipe.

  “Or, he will die,” the demon said. “As will you, if you do not…”

  “Exilium,” Finias cried, pushing his power forward and across the room. Banishing the demon from the house.

  The demon screamed, and the blood-curdling sound echoed throughout the room. But just as quickly as it began, the sound began to dissipate, like Finias’ hands were on its throat, suffocating its power.

  Finias held his hands in place until he could feel that there was no more evil energy in the room. With a long, deep breath, he focused once again. “Detorquere,” he ordered, and the pipe in the wall twisted around, sealing the opening tightly.

  He slumped back against the wall and breathed slowly, scanning the room for any other possible portals. Once he was satisfied there were no other places the creature could enter, he walked over to the pipe and drew some very old runes in the wall around the pipe, to bar the demon from coming back into the room again.

  “Now, we can see…” he said to himself, then paused. He hurried across the room to the hallway and heard a vehicle pulling into the parking lot. He shook his head in frustration and then quickly pulled the chains back through the handles and sealed the
room up once again. He quickly ran to the staircase and hurried down, replacing the lock into the hasp and staple, before he heard the rattle of a key on the outside door.

  With a stealth that belied his size, he raced to his room and closed his door softly behind him. He leaned against the door and inhaled deeply. “Well, at least now he knows I’m in town,” he mused. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Donovan!”

  Donovan sat straight up in his chair when he heard the demon scream his name inside his head. He looked at the others gathered around the table in the meeting room and was grateful that none of them could hear it.

  “I need you now!”

  He cleared his throat and then smiled apologetically to the partner making the presentation. “I’m so sorry,” Donovan muttered. “I just remembered that I’d forgotten something in my office. I’ll be right back. Please continue, I’ll catch up.”

  He pushed back his chair and hurried out of the meeting room before anyone could question him. He jogged down the hallway, pushed open his office door, and then closed and locked it securely behind him.

  “I told you to kill it!”

  Donovan gasped as he felt his skin ripping beneath his shirt. “What?” he gasped. “What are talking about?”

  “I told you there was an entity in this town, and I wanted you to kill it,” the demon howled. “I gave you that direction yesterday.”

  “I haven’t had time,” Donovan answered. “I don’t even know where he is.”

  “He’s hot for the last witch,” the demon sneered. “The one without a mate. He wants to have her.”

  Jealousy, pure and unadulterated, surged through Donovan’s body, followed by rage. The influence of the demon filled his mind and took away all reason.

  All he could see was Cat in the arms of a faceless stranger. Cat betraying his trust.

  He was doing this for her! He was sacrificing for her! Why didn’t she trust him?

  “I guess you weren’t enough for her,” the demon taunted. “This one is strong. This one has power. This one will satisfy her needs.”

  “Where is he?” Donovan growled as the rage grew larger. He clenched his hands into fists. “I’ll kill him now.”

  “Yes, you will,” the demon encouraged. “But you will need more than your hands. You will need a gun.”

  Donovan nodded. “Yes, a gun,” he agreed, his pupils now dilated and his movements slow and measured. “I need a gun.”

  “You are a witch,” the demon reminded him. “Move a gun from the police department to your desk.”

  Donovan slowly smiled and nodded his head. Suddenly there was a heavy clattering sound coming from the desk in front of him. His smile widened. “I have a gun,” he said obediently.

  “Good. Very good,” the demon rejoiced. “Now, why don’t you call the Bed and Breakfast and ask to speak with Finias? See if he would be willing to meet you tonight.”

  Donovan picked up his phone and dialed the Bed and Breakfast.

  “Hi, Katie speaking,” he heard through his phone.

  “Katie, this is Donovan,” he replied, his voice still stiff.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Long day,” he improvised. “I was wondering if I could speak to Finias.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Finias, he’s staying at your B&B,” Donovan insisted.

  “Sorry, there’s no one here by that name,” Katie replied.

  “She’s a lying bitch,” the demon’s voice echoed in Donovan’s brain.

  “You’re a…” Donovan began, nearly repeating the demon’s words before catching himself. “Maybe my secretary got his name wrong. I was supposed to call a man staying at your B&B. He called me this afternoon when I was in a meeting.”

  “Oh, you must mean Ellis,” Katie said. “Sorry, he stepped out just a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Donovan replied. “Do you know when he’s going to be back?”

  “No,” Katie replied. “But I know he’s going to Second Salem for dinner tonight. He asked me for directions and told me he was meeting some people there at six.”

  “Great,” Donovan said. “I’ll catch him there, thanks, Katie.”

  He hung up the phone and started to reach for the desk drawer with the gun.

  “Oh, no, you don’t need that until later,” the demon coached. “Now you need to get back to your meeting. Then, after five, when everyone else is gone, you can get your gun and take it with you to meet Finias.”

  Donovan nodded, then turned around and walked out of his office. He started back down the hall toward the meeting room, his eyes going back to normal and his movements more natural. He’d nearly reached the meeting room when he froze. “What the hell just happened?” he asked himself, looking around the office. He stared back at his office door and shook his head. Did he even go into his office? He couldn’t remember.

  Man, I’m losing it, he decided silently. I need some down time. Maybe I’ll head over to Second Salem’s after work.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Agnes Willoughby stood at the foot of the path waiting for Cat’s return. She smiled sadly, it hadn’t been that long ago when she had taken the path up to the bluffs to seek answers about their future, and all three of her daughters had stood waiting for her, scolding her for going off without them. So much had changed in those few short months.

  She sighed softly. Rowan had blossomed. Her love for Henry had not only given her faith in herself, but also courage in the research they’d done. And through that research, they had helped Joseph and his entire community. The vaccine Rowan created using samples from Joseph’s blood, was reversing a disease that had wiped out most of the male population in their village. And now that Hazel was pregnant with Joseph’s child… Agnes shook her head and wiped away the tears that sprang to her eyes.

  Hazel, her baby, was going to be a mother. She shrugged, of course, it made perfect sense. Hazel had been a nurturer and a protector to her goats. For all of her sassy remarks and quips, she was the one who sensed hurt or frustration in her sisters. She would be a perfect mother.

  “Which is going to make me a grandmother,” Agnes whispered, and then she smiled. “A whole new generation to spoil and coddle, with none of the ramifications of parenthood.”

  Of course, she thought, she never really dealt with the ramifications of parenthood. She glanced up at the path. Catalpa had been born with a maturity and soberness that belied her years. She was the serious child, the responsible child, the child who reminded her mother of the duties required to run the household. Cat had been there for her sisters, and her mother, if Agnes was honest with herself. And now her beloved Cat was suffering, quietly suffering, because that’s how she did things. But Agnes could feel her pain.

  Agnes’ thoughts were interrupted when she heard movement from beyond the first bend of the path, a place hidden behind the trees. A moment later, Fuzzy, her wolf and familiar, bounding into the clearing, looking over his shoulder to ensure he was being followed. Sure enough, moments later, Cat came into view.

  “How was your walk?” Agnes asked softly, walking up to meet her daughter and enfold her in an embrace.

  Cat relaxed into the embrace, feeling the love and support from her mom. Grateful for the strength it gave her and the courage to do what needed to be done. “Can I be honest?” Cat asked.

  “I wish you would,” Agnes replied.

  Cat took a step back, her hands on her mother’s shoulders. “I feel like a mail order bride,” she said.

  Agnes’ eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that at all,” she replied. “Tell me more.”

  Cat sighed. “When you and I talked about the destiny of the Willoughby witches a couple of months ago, I was more than willing to do whatever it took to banish the demon,” she explained. “And I still am. But this whole new requirement of giving my heart to a companion to help me. I
don’t know if I can do that. And I certainly don’t want to be the weak link that sends my sisters to their death.”

  “Why can’t you do it?” Agnes asked. “Is it that you can’t trust another man?”

  “I wish it were just that,” Cat replied. “I just feel like I’ve already given my heart away. Even when Donovan left, and decided to pursue his other dreams, my heart never healed. I tried to date. I tried to meet other men. They were just never…”

  “Donovan,” Agnes finished.

  Cat nodded. “Exactly,” she said sadly. “I can’t be responsible for his choices. I can’t change him to be what I want him to be. But I wish I could heal myself so that I could love freely again.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t met the right man,” Agnes offered hopefully.

  “Do you believe that?” Cat asked.

  Agnes shook her head. “No. I don’t,” she said. She took her daughter’s hand and led her to a giant tree trunk a few feet away from the path, and they both sat on it. Agnes took her daughter’s hands in her own and then met her eyes.

  “But let me tell you something that I hope will give you encouragement,” Agnes offered. “Your father was the first man I ever loved. I gave him my heart, and he gave me his. Our time together was magical, and when I discovered I was pregnant with you, I was ecstatic and devastated.”

  “Because we had to be three from one,” Cat said.

  Agnes nodded. “Yes, my daughters had to come from three different fathers,” she said. “And your father understood from the beginning that was what was required. We said goodbye…” Agnes closed her eyes. “It was so hard to leave him.”

  She opened her eyes, now moist with memories and smiled sadly. “I thought I was going to die,” she admitted. “But I didn’t. I had a beautiful baby girl, and I saw your father in you. And I knew together we had created a miracle.”

  She lifted her hand and gently caressed Cat’s cheek. “You remind me of him every day,” she confessed. Then she sighed. “And I realized that if I didn’t cut off all contact from him, there would be no way that I could fulfill the rest of my responsibility.”