Death's Shroud

by Robbie Cox

  “She’s jerking around so much.” Her mother’s voice. “Is this normal? Is she in pain? My baby’s suffered so much already. I just got her back.” Was she locked in a dream, unable to get out or open her eyes? Nothing made sense. Why could she hear her mother but not see her?

  “She’ll be fine, Mom,” Jayden said. “The nurse said the meds will work in a few minutes, and her body should settle down.”

  Mom! Jayden! Why can’t I see them?

  Another scream, the girl in extreme pain as if she was being tortured. Laci spun back around, just as another woman screamed. The sound came from almost the same direction as the first, but more to the side. Turning back to where she heard her family’s voices, she took a deep breath and then moved to follow the screams. This place seemed so peaceful to cause someone as much pain as Laci heard in the women who kept screaming. The cold grass felt ticklish on her bare feet as she walked, the ground soft, as birds chirped in the distance. Everything seemed so tranquil; the only things out of place were the screams.

  And her.

  As she neared the lake, she saw the dirt path split, going in opposite directions.

  “Laci! Laci, I need help. They’re hurting me.”

  Turning toward the voice, she saw Rose Tillery standing there, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, as tears streaked her cheeks. Her body was ramrod straight, her arms straight down and stiff. She screamed again, and Laci witnessed the dark red tendrils of magical power wrap around Rose’s body. She ran to her friend, but then another called out to her.

  “Laci! They’re trying to break into our world. They’re…” Another scream.

  Spinning, Laci saw Renny standing there, just as Rose was, only obsidian streaks of power coiled around her body, jerking it into spasms that twisted Renny’s body in different directions.

  Laci froze, trapped between the two women, unsure of what was happening or who to run to and help, the dilemma yanking at her heart and will.

  Again, both women screamed, their faces twisted to the sky as cords of power rippled over them. Laci screamed with them, her hands flying to the sides of her head as indecision gripped her. Rose was dead, so how was she here? She should be in the Summerlands. Unless, of course, this was the Summerlands. Yet, if this was the place of the dead, why was Renny here? Twisting her gaze back and forth between the two women, Laci moved toward Rose, figuring she could help one and then help the other, but as soon as she moved, a laugh echoed behind Rose as a giant creature with dark, leathery skin, massive shoulders, and a powerful chest, rose up, his thick arms extended out as he shoved at Laci, red flames of power exploding out of his hand toward her. The burst of power hit Laci in the chest, picking her up into the air and flinging her backward. She landed with a rib-crunching thud, the air rushing from her, choking off her scream.

  “Her body just shook again,” Jayden screamed at someone. “Look! There’s blood on her gown.”

  Laci looked down, and where she had been stabbed, blood seeped from her open wound, the pain slicing through her.

  “Nurse!” she heard her mother calling out. “Nurse, she’s bleeding again.”

  The monster behind Rose reached out again, his power twisting Laci into the air. She screamed as she hit the ground once more.

  “Why is she jerking so much?” her mother asked. “Is she having a reaction to the medication?”

  The monster reached out, gripping Laci in his power, and lifted her off the ground. He held her there as he glared at her. When he spoke, his voice was like an avalanche of rocks, each cracking against the other. “Go away, witch. We’ll be coming for you soon enough, using each of you as the vessel for our escape. You will all fall for trapping us in the Nether. We’ve made it into the Summerlands; we will make it to the Land Above.” Then he flipped his hand backward, and Laci flew through the air, arms flailing as she screamed, the pain in her side threatening to take her consciousness from her.

  As she hit the ground again, tears of agony erupting from her eyes, she saw her mother there, holding her hand as nurses worked frantically on her. Turning her gaze to the side, Laci saw Jayden standing there on the other side of her, her face twisted with concern. Laci reached out with a shaking hand and gripped her sister’s wrist. “Rose is in trouble,” she said, her voice a croak of pain and medication. “And Renny, I think. I don’t know. I could swear I saw both of them.” Then she passed out, darkness swallowing her. The last thing she remembered was Renny screaming for her.

  “I just…” Laci took a deep breath. “I just woke up there, in the Summerlands. I don’t know how I got there or even how I returned. I was there one minute, and then the next, I was back in my hospital bed.”

  Nazareth nodded. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that you were in the Summerlands because you were about to die. Your soul had already made the journey, your body barely hanging on. That would have been the moment Hekate touched you, which is why you wound up back in your hospital bed. It was then that she called you for her purpose.”

  Laci just stared at the man. “And just what purpose is that exactly?”

  The older man gave a casual shrug. “To serve the dead, of course.”

  Twelve

  Tharon perched in the recesses of the mind of some feeble woman, old, lonely, a sad existence really. He watched as she wished evil upon the people she thought below her, watched as she belittled them with her sharp comments, her bitter rebuke, taking her insecurity out on them to make herself feel better about her weaknesses. And she had plenty of weaknesses. One of those was her habit of falling asleep while watching her afternoon soap operas. Tharon watched the drivel on the screen as he stared at the images flashing through her mind, watched as she imagined herself as the sultry blonde, locked in Enrique’s arms, their lips meshed together. Such sickening fantasies to compensate for such a miserable, depressing life. What is it with these humans and their tortured souls? Tharon shook his head as he sighed. They didn’t deserve the life they wasted. He grinned. Of course, that’s why I’m here, to put them out of their misery.

  Josephine’s eyelids closed, fluttered really. She fought the sleep that urged her to surrender as it did every afternoon, wanting to watch more of the steamy love scene in front of her, her dog already asleep curled up at her feet. This was her life, her miserable, pathetic life. Tharon would be doing her a favor.

  She shifted on the couch, pulling the small throw pillow further under her head as she nestled down, fighting sleep for as long as she could. She always did the same thing every day, struggling against what her body, her mind, wanted, instead of surrendering to the rest she needed. Tharon knew this because he had watched her every day for the past month, watched her routine as he floated within her dreams, nudging her further and further into her depression, her bitterness, her pathetic reality. She wasn’t as much fun to torment as Roger Sanders, but she was someone Tharon could pass the time with, someone he could practice on.

  Her eyes closed, but the show inside her mind continued. Enrique held her, his hands caressing her back, his body pressed tight against hers. She kissed him harder than the actors had on the television, squeezed him to her, a much younger her, one that had never really existed, but which she pictured herself as whenever she had this dream. After all, you could be anyone you wanted in a dream, right? That was the joy of dreams.

  Then Josephine succumbed to the pull of sleep, and Enrique vanished from her arms. She stumbled, catching herself at the last minute, shock masking her face as she stared around her, looking for the man of her fantasies. Confusion pinched her brows as she stood there, arms outstretched, searching for the man her body panted for, but who was nowhere in sight.

  “Not fair, is it?” Tharon asked, his guttural voice almost echoing inside the woman’s dream state. “Love, right there within your grasp, and yet, it vanishes with a thought. My thought, to be exact.”

  Josephine turned, staring through narrowed eyes. “And just who are you? What did you do to Enriq
ue?” Her tone belligerent, angry at being deprived of her man, even if he wasn’t real. They were always angry. Until they were scared. Josephine needed to be scared.

  “Do you miss his arms? His lips?” Tharon asked. “Wouldn’t the real thing be better? Wouldn’t you much rather be out in the world, living life, feeling a man’s lips pressed against yours, instead of sprawled on your couch, drool dribbling down your cheek as you dream about what you don’t have the guts to take for yourself?”

  Josephine stiffened at his words. “You are a belligerent man,” she snapped. “Leave.”

  He grinned, fighting the urge to laugh at her bravado. He had to admit, she had spunk. Too bad she was about to die. “I can’t leave,” he told her. “I live in people’s dreams. This is where I find the sad little people like you, people who waste an existence deprived other people. You hide here in your tiny house, living through your fantasies because you don’t have the guts to go out and experience life for yourself. You waste the gift that was given to you.”

  “It’s my life,” she snapped. “And I will live it any damn way I please. You’re just some figment in my mind, that’s all. Now be gone with you. Leave me to live my life as I please. Go torment someone else.”

  Tharon shook his head. “No. You see, I’m here to give you what you want.”

  The woman screamed as Enrique appeared in front of her again, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against him. Tharon watched as another Enrique appeared behind her, embracing her as well. And then another. And another. The men surrounded Jospephine, the same man really. They pressed against her, arms grabbing, groping, pulling at her. More and more Enriques appeared as Josephine screamed, begging for them to stop, to let her go. It was too much. They pressed against her too hard until they fell over, her in the middle of them, arms flailing, legs kicking,

  Tharon watched, his head cocked to the side. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asked her as she screamed for mercy. “To be caught up in the arms of your imaginary lover? I thought you couldn’t get enough of him?”

  Josephine’s screams echoed off the walls as the men pressed down upon her, crushing the life out of her. Tharon just stood there and watched.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Regina left The Murky Cauldron, turning toward Washington Avenue and the river. Tansy promised to help her, which didn’t really surprise Regina. It was the whole reason she went to the small New Age shop in the first place. She knew the witches, especially the leader of the coven, could do nothing except help a wayward soul searching for guidance.

  The dybbuk was ready to make her inhabitation permanent, to take over the body of Sherri Rockford, so Regina could enact her revenge on the one who caused her death. She had not lied to Tansy when she said she felt as if she had lived before; well, hadn’t lied too much. She knew who she was in life before she became a dybbuk, her soul wandering, lost in the in between world watching her killer move on with his life, watching as he took a new wife, had new children, moved up in his career. She knew, or at least, she remembered. For now. The longer she remained in the in between, the more her memory failed. Already, she had moments when she forgot who she had been in life.

  She stopped, looking out at the Indian River as a woman in a kayak paddled by, gliding across the water’s surface with easy, even strokes. The dybbuk took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and whispered, “I am Regina Hawthorn, wife of Meredith Hawthorn. I have two kids, Reggie and Mary, now grown adults with children of their own. I did not die; I was killed.” She opened her eyes, the woman in the kayak now out in the middle of the river. “And I will kill the man who murdered me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m coming Cale, for you and your precious new wife.”

  She turned as a car whizzed by behind her, causing her gaze to jerk around as it passed. She needed a car if she was to get around. Too bad Sherri Rockford did not possess one, choosing drugs and the streets over the things of a normal life.

  Loud squealing brought her attention to the south as a huge bus braked to a stop. Regina sighed, realizing she had no other choice if she wanted to get around. Pressing her lips together, she resigned herself to the poorest form of transportation and moved toward the bus. She had waited a decade and a half; she could wait a few more hours. Days, even. In the end, she would still get her revenge. Cale would finally get what was coming to him.

  As would her sister, Cale’s new wife.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Wanda handed Tansy a cup of tea, orange-spice, and offered to watch the front of The Murky Cauldron while Tansy got caught up on some work in the back. “You did the right thing,” the older witch said as Tansy took the teacup. “I think a new student will be a good boost for everyone, especially you. Someone to teach, to mold. Why, the excitement alone is enough to make me eager to move forward again.”

  Tansy sighed as she stared down into the cup. “I hope you’re right. To be honest, I thought about just…” She took a deep breath. “Just ending the coven. It’s just the three of us now, since Kayla and Laci no longer want to be a part of it. We’ve seen so much;I know we’re all tired.”

  Wanda nodded. “We have seen a lot, but that doesn’t mean we should quit, give it all up. You’re usually the one telling us that.” Wanda walked over, placed her hand on Tansy’s upper arm, and gave her a reassuring smile. “This is what we need. I can feel it.”

  Tansy nodded, but said nothing. Instead, she turned and walked toward the back room, still not sure taking on a new witch was the smartest move. It was done, however, so she would have to wait and see whether or not it was a mistake. Hopefully, it would all turn out as Wanda predicted.

  Tansy blew on the top of the teacup, sending the tendrils of steam away from her as she sat down in the rickety chair behind her desk. After a small sip of her tea, she set the cup on her desk and decided it was time to try for some form of normalcy in her life, and nothing shouted normal like inventory. With a slight chuckle, she snatched up her clipboard and moved to the shelves lining the south wall. Boxes and bags filled the shelves, each loaded with some paraphernalia of the witch world, or rather, what others thought of when they considered witches. It wasn’t that none of it connected to the reality of witchcraft as much as it was all more or less a caricature of the truth, a distortion making people feel safe around cute figurines and snarky sayings. Tansy, however, saw the darkness of the world of magic, and she admitted, it scared the hell out of her. Did she really want to bring another person into the danger that had surrounded the coven as of late? But if not her, then who else would teach the searching souls?

  Tansy went about opening boxes, looking at the contents, and jotting them down on her clipboard. She had a computer, but still preferred the handwritten method of doing most things. She would transfer it all later, of course, just because it was easier when making shipment orders or filing taxes, but for now the feel of a pencil in one hand and the clipboard in the other felt comforting. She counted T-shirts, books by titles, figurines, and stones, making note of everything that she had too much of and what she needed to order. After placing a package of T-shirts back on the shelf, Tansy reached for the next…

  She stopped moving, her arm frozen in place as she stared at the shelf.

  It was a small brown box with gold hinges and a Celtic symbol etched into the top. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and ran her fingers over the edge of the box. She had forgotten it was even here, a gift from Rose Tillery, the last gift the young woman ever gave Tansy. She pulled the box from the shelf, placing the clipboard in its place as she kept her gaze on the box. However, instead of the box, she saw Rose, the breeze pulling at her dark hair, the spattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, the way her bright green eyes lit up whenever she talked about things that excited her.

  A sob escaped Tansy as she opened the lid of the box to see the small necklace inside, the back room light catching the jewel pendant, bringing out the Celtic Shield Knot etched in the center, the symbol for protection. Ir
onic that Rose gave the necklace to Tansy when the young witch was the one who needed it that night in Feather Lakes when Tansy came to realize how real the fantasy world truly was. And how dangerous.

  Tansy closed her eyes as the memory flooded over her. The screams from that night filled her ears, the residents of Feather Lakes wailing as the dark elves and gargoyles ripped into them, the ringing of shovels and rakes slamming against swords as people cried out to one another, warnings, threats, cries of pain. Death. Bertram faced them, his gargoyles and dark elves slicing through the humans, the witches using their power to save as many as they could. Bertram had enough, and there was nothing the witches could do to stop him.

  With her hand over her mouth, Tansy pulled the necklace out of the box, setting the container back on the shelf. As the pendant spun in front of her, she saw Bertram Leary jerk his arm out in front of him, his fingers curled in a grip as he lifted his hand into the air. Rose’s scream came from behind Tansy, a scream cut off as Bertram’s power squeezed her throat. Tansy and Wanda hurled poles and rocks at the man, anything they could find to try to force his hand from Rose’s throat. Nothing worked. Then Bertram flipped his wrist and Tansy could only watch as her young assistant’s body was thrown from where she stood, up through the air, and into the pole of a fence surrounding the park. Her young body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

  Tears streamed down Tansy’s cheeks as she stared at the necklace, the Celtic Shield Knot etched on the stone swaying back and forth. Tansy felt the anger all over again as she clutched the chain, the links digging into her palm. It was the first of the deaths to hit the coven, Alex Barrister being the second.

  Tansy swiped at her cheeks. Perhaps death did cover her little coven. Perhaps Laci and Kayla were right to get out while they could. Why would anyone want to be a part of something where everyone kept dying?