Catalpa's Curse

by Terri Reid

  She glanced at her phone laying on the soapstone counter next to the sink and shook her head. No! She was not going to call them. She wasn’t going to interrupt them when they were doing something important. She wasn’t going to be that kind of mother.

  She started to reach for her phone.

  “Ruff!”

  Agnes jumped and then looked down at Fuzzy. “I wasn’t going to call,” she lied. “I was going to check the weather, that’s all.” She leaned over the sink and looked up into the evening sky. “Looks like rain. That’s what I was thinking. Rain.”

  The wolf yawned loudly and shook its head.

  “I am so not lying,” Agnes replied. “You’re just overly suspicious.”

  The wolf stood up and walked over to the back door, then looked back at her.

  “Oh, so you are just as worried as I am,” she said, walking over to join him.

  Whining softly, the wolf leaned against the door.

  “Fine,” Agnes said, reaching for the doorknob and opening the door. “You can go out. But no running into the fields, you need to stay with me.”

  The wolf loped down the stairs and into the back yard. Agnes followed him out of the house and stood on the deck, watching him. She glanced over at the protective runes on the posts at the top of the staircase, and a shudder went through her body. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back, toward the door.

  “Fuzzy,” she called. “Are you done?”

  Just then a large crow swooped down and landed on the cast iron dinner bell that was on a post at the foot of the stairs. The crow flapped its wings a few times as it settled on the top of the bell and finally roosted.

  “Fuzzy,” Agnes called, her voice urgent with concern. “You need to come in now.”

  The crow turned and looked at her. “Worried Agnes?” it hissed.

  “Get the hell off of my property,” she commanded, tightening her grip on her arms so she wouldn’t shake. “Get out now!”

  “Oh, Agnes, I thought we could try and be friends,” the crow continued. “After all, if we could come to some agreement, then your daughters won’t have to die.”

  “My daughters won’t die,” Agnes replied, a sick feeling twisting her stomach. “But you will be sent back to the hell you came from.”

  “I’ve already tasted their blood,” the crow taunted. “It was delicious.”

  “You lie!” Agnes shouted at him.

  “You heard about the shooting at the pub, didn’t you? Poor Donovan was crazy out of his mind with jealousy,” it continued. “Poor Cat, lying in a pool of her own blood.” The crow turned and smiled. “Delicious blood.”

  “No!” Agnes screamed and ran forward towards the stairs.

  Suddenly, a blur of fur crashed into her body, knocking both of them against the kitchen door. “What are you…?” she screamed at the wolf and then she saw the determination in the wolf’s eyes.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath when she realized she had nearly allowed herself to move out of the protection of the runes — nearly fallen for the demon’s trap.

  “I’m sorry, Fuzzy,” she sobbed, burying her face in the wolf’s fur.

  Fuzzy nuzzled her and then turned, putting himself between the crow and Agnes. He stepped to the edge of the porch, bared his teeth and growled viciously.

  “Order your wolf to attack, Agnes,” the crow taunted. “I would love to disembowel him and scatter his parts across the yard.”

  Fuzzy continued to growl and stand between them.

  Agnes wiped the back of her hand impatiently across her face, pushing away the tears. She stood up, took a deep breath, and then walked across the deck to the wicker table and chairs. Lying on the table was a super soaker water-gun. She picked it up, pumped the piston, and then walked back to stand alongside Fuzzy.

  The crow lifted its head and laughed. “Really, Agnes, you’re going to shoot me with a squirt gun?” it mocked.

  Agnes lifted it, aimed, and shot a stream of water at the bird.

  The crow screamed in pain, and red welts appeared on its body, and the odor of burning flesh filled the air.

  “Did I neglect to mention this was holy water?’ Agnes asked, pumping the piston again. “How forgetful of me.”

  She shot the gun again, but the crow took to the air, cawing in pain as it flew away from their property. Agnes dropped one hand on the top of Fuzzy’s head. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You probably saved my life.”

  Fuzzy leaned against her and whined softly. She chuckled softly. “Yes. Yes, you can have a treat,” she agreed. “You can have a damn ribeye if you’d like.”

  With his tail wagging excitedly, Fuzzy led her back to the kitchen door and barked loudly. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I deserve a treat too.”

  She opened the door, they both walked in, and she locked it securely behind them. “But first,” she said with a long, shaky exhale. “I think I need just to sit down before my knees give out on me.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  When Cat entered the bedroom, she saw that Donovan was still lying on a gurney and not on the queen-sized wrought iron bed in the middle of the room. She glanced over to Finias, a question in her eyes and he nodded. “I thought it would be better to keep him on a surface that’s more accessible,” he said quietly.

  She came closer and noted that his wrists and ankles had been strapped to the edges of the gurney to keep him immobilized. Why in the world were they tying him up? Was this some kind of punishment for his earlier attack?

  “Are we worried that he’s going to run away?” she asked skeptically.

  Finias started to answer Cat, then saw Rowan and Henry enter the room and stopped. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said to them. “I’d like to see what you think before we start.”

  He bent over and whispered a few soft words in Donovan’s ear.

  “What are you doing?” Cat demanded.

  Finias glanced up at her. “He has a glamour spell over him,” he said. “I am merely reversing the spell.”

  “Why would he put a glamour spell…” Rowan began, then gasped in horror as she looked at the change in Donovan’s body. His skin was pale and mottled with bruises; his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, his lips were chapped and were a light purple color.

  “What’s happened to him?” Cat cried softly, looking up at Finias.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” Finias said. “This is not all of his injuries.” With a sweep of his hand over Donovan’s torso, Donovan’s bloodied suit jacket and shirt were removed. The red puckered bullet wound was visible in his right shoulder, but that wasn’t what drew Cat’s eyes. Donovan’s entire torso was riddled with oozing and swollen gashes that were over twelve inches long. Yellow, putrid discharge seeped from the edges of the wounds and coagulated around the gashes. His skin was stretched tightly over his ribcage, and the flesh that wasn’t scarred was bruised.

  “I’ve seen this before,” Finias explained. “Although not so severe as this.”

  Henry stepped closer and nodded. “Demon possession,” he said sadly.

  “No!” Cat argued. “No. Donovan would never…”

  “Donovan thought he could control it,” Joseph said, interrupting her. “Donovan thought he could offer himself to the demon, get it to trust him, and then destroy it from the inside.”

  “Instead, it destroyed him,” Hazel sobbed, turning her face into Joseph’s shoulder to block her view.

  Cat took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, it did not destroy him,” she said firmly. “I would know, in my heart, if he was truly lost.”

  Finias looked at her and nodded. “What would you have us do?” he asked her.

  “We need to save him,” she said.

  “There’s a lot of danger in doing this,” Henry inserted.

  Cat spun and looked at him. “Really? We’re worried about danger?” she cried. “What if this was Rowan lying here? Would you worry about danger then?”

>   Henry looked like he’d been struck. Finias reached over and took Cat’s hands in his. “Cat, Henry was talking about danger to Donovan,” he said quietly.

  Tears rolled down Cat’s face, and she nodded silently, trying to find the words, but unable to speak. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. Finias drew her into his arms to comfort her, but she stepped back. She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him. “Thank you, but I need…”

  She wiped away the tears and turned to Henry.

  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I know…”

  Henry smiled at her. “I understand,” he said. “We’re all a bit overwhelmed at the moment.”

  “We need a plan,” Rowan said. “That’s what we need. And we need to understand why healing Donovan is dangerous.”

  “Donovan needs to want the demon to be gone,” Henry said. “Because if he allows it to return, it will be worse.”

  “What?” Cat asked.

  “When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none,” Finias quoted. “Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first.”

  “Seven times the possession,” Henry said. “If he’s not ready to give it up.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “Look at what it’s doing to him,” Cat said, shaking her head in disbelief. “How can you not believe that he’s ready to give it up?”

  “I’ve seen addicts in even worse shape than Donovan, and they didn’t want to give it up,” Joseph said.

  “But this isn’t an addiction,” she argued. “This was a sacrifice. He did it for us.” Her voice broke. “He did it for me.”

  “Maybe, he started out doing it for you,” Joseph said. “But he got pulled in. I talked to him earlier this week, and for an instant, he was enjoying the power it gave him. I’m not saying that was his motivation, but he’s got to be sure.”

  Cat turned to Finias. “You said you'd seen this before,” she said. “What did you do? What can we do?”

  “We can first heal the body,” Finias replied. “Although, we risk when we heal the body because we make the entire entity stronger. There is a reason his body looks as it does, the body is holy, the body is spiritual; when it is attacked by evil; it will reject it. We are contradicting the body’s natural response to the demon.”

  “But he can’t choose until he’s conscious,” Cat insisted. “Until he’s better.”

  Finias met her eyes. “And if he makes the wrong choice, are you ready to destroy him?” he asked. He stared at her and asked again, his voice a harsh whisper. “If we cure the body, but the spirit has decided to seek the power of the demon, are you willing to destroy Donovan?”

  “Would he kill my sisters and my mother?” Cat asked, meeting his eyes unblinkingly. “Yes, I could, and I would destroy him. Without hesitation.”

  They all heard a weak cough and a soft chuckle. “That’s my girl,” Donovan wheezed. “Such a romantic.”

  They all turned to the man lying on the gurney.

  “Donovan…” Cat began.

  He twisted his arms and felt the bands restricting his movement. “Are these necessary?” he asked acerbically.

  Joseph moved over so he could meet Donovan’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “You tell me. You walked into Second Salem and tried to shoot either Ellis or Cat; we’re not sure which. And then on the way here, you told Cat that you wanted to drink her blood.”

  “What?” he breathed, insult replaced with remorse. “I don’t…”

  “You don’t remember,” Finias said. “Because you were not in control of your mind. Or your actions. So, do you want us to remove the bands?”

  He shook his head. “No,” he agreed vehemently. “And get iron, bind me with iron, just in case.”

  Cat shook her head. “No, we don’t have to…”

  But just as she was arguing, Hazel waved her hand and replaced the fabric bands with iron cuffs. “They’re padded,” Hazel quickly pointed out. “And, he’s right, if someone else is controlling him, we can’t be too cautious.”

  “Donovan, we want to heal as much as we can,” Rowan said, moving up to the gurney and gently stroking his hair from his forehead. “Some of the things we won’t be able to fix because of your connection.”

  Donovan’s eyes widened. “My connection,” he breathed. “Can he hear this? Does he know? Are you at risk?”

  “These are my rooms,” Finias said. “I protected them as soon as I arrived. He will not be able to break through these barriers, which is why I wanted you brought here and not a hospital.”

  “Thank you,” Donovan replied, then he turned to Rowan. The woman he thought of as a little sister. How could he put her at risk? How could he ask her to clean out something as vile as what filled him? “These wounds are filled with evil. I don’t want you to take that in, even if it’s just to expel it out again. Can’t we just use salve or something?”

  “Oh, yeah, Row,” Hazel quipped, staring at Donovan in exasperation and rolling her eyes, “let’s use that demon-out salve we have at the store. I totally forgot about that.”

  Rowan chuckled and shook her head. “I can do this, Donovan,” she assured him. “I won’t put anyone at risk, I promise.”

  Donovan sighed. “Okay, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” he said, then he turned to Finias. “What do you want me to do.”

  “You must fill your mind with visions of love and peace,” Finias instructed. “Instances where you felt warm and safe.”

  Donovan met Cat’s eyes, and she moved forward and slipped her hand into his. “Can I help him?” she asked.

  Finias shook his head. “No, this is his journey, and he must do it with his own strength,” he said. “But, your hand in his is a powerful talisman and reminder of good. So, keep it there. Just, no linking.” He met her eyes. “Promise?”

  She nodded.

  Donovan closed his eyes and remembered the first time he felt accepted.

  The rain had stopped, and the air smelled like wet soil, wet vegetation, and sunshine, a heady combination. But he was sad. He wanted it to rain forever so that Cat would be trapped in little rock shelter with him. Away from the world, away from reality.

  He smiled at her again, and she smiled shyly back. He was amazed that she was still there. She had always reminded him of a timid forest creature with her large brown eyes and hesitant looks. Even in Whitewater, the Willoughbys had been ostracized, either because of fear or envy. But he knew, being the eldest sister, it had been hardest on Cat.

  “It’s stopped raining,” she pointed out, blushing when she thought about what she’d said. “I guess you could see that too.”

  He nodded and looked out over the bluff. “I was kind of hoping it would last longer,” he admitted.

  Her smile brightened. “Me too.”

  They stood in silence for a few more moments.

  “I know,” she said suddenly. “You could walk me home.” She shook her head, suddenly shy. “I’m sorry, I mean if you want to, you could.”

  Donovan shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he hedged.

  Her smile disappeared. “No, that’s okay,” she said, shaking her head. “It was, you know, just a stupid idea.”

  She started to move past him, not meeting his eyes. He had hurt her feelings, he realized.

  “Wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.

  She turned, and he saw her sadness. She shrugged. “I’m good, really.”

  “It just that people don’t like me,” he explained in a rush. “My folks, they were the wrong side of the track kind of people. Not like the Willoughbys.”

  “My mom would love you,” Cat exclaimed with a smile.

  And with all his heart, Donovan hoped that would be true
.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “He’s in a good place,” Rowan said. “I can feel positive energy.”

  Henry nodded and placed his hands on Donovan’s head. “Okay, where do we want to start?” he asked.

  Rowan stepped up next to him and placed her hands on Donovan’s shoulders. She looked up to Finias. “You have the most experience,” she offered.

  He placed his hands over Donovan’s heart. “Let’s start with the bullet wound,” he suggested. “To make sure there isn’t anything damaged in there. Then, let’s examine his organs to see what damage has been done there. The skin is superficial.” He smiled at Rowan. “We can use your demon-out salve for that.”

  She chuckled softly and nodded. “Good plan,” she said.

  They all closed their eyes and began their journey through Donovan’s injured body. “His clavicle was missed, but he’s got some damage to the subscapularis,” Henry said. “I can repair that.”

  “He’s so sexy when he talks like a professor,” Rowan whispered, then she focused on the damage to Donovan’s body. “The bullet’s exit wound — looks like it nicked the suprascapular artery as well as the nerve. It looks like you repaired the artery, Ellis, so I’ll repair the nerve.”

  “The path throughout looks clean,” Finias said. “I don’t see any fragments, so I’ll close up the skin both front and back.”

  They all worked in silence for several minutes, pulling the pain and injury into their own bodies and releasing it into the universe. Finally, Rowan sighed. “Okay, I’m done,” she said, her voice slightly weary. “I’m going to check his lungs while I’m in the neighborhood.”

  Henry nodded. “I’ll check his abdominal area if you want to check his heart, Ellis,” Henry suggested.

  He was so busy concentrating on the wound, Finias didn’t remember that he had told them his name was Ellis, so he didn’t respond.

  “Ellis,” Henry repeated. “Did you hear me?”

  “Oh! Of course,” Finias finally replied. “Yes, I can do the heart.”

  “The lungs are basically good,” Rowan said. “There’s a little residue in the bronchioles that actually look like soot.”